The Love of a Libertine

by Jess Michaels

  His back was to her, so she had an opportunity to escape. Only she didn’t. Instead she froze as he reached up to casually place the book back on the shelf an arm’s length above him. His shoulders flexed against the white linen fabric of his shirt.

  Once he had replaced the book, he turned and flashed a smile at her that revealed even, white teeth. It was not as if he was surprised to see her, he seemed to have known she was there gaping at him all along.

  “Good afternoon, Lady Elizabeth,” he drawled.

  She shifted. He was being nothing but polite to her, and she still wished to run in the other direction. It was very rude to be that way when he’d done nothing directly wrong. She was just judging him by another man with another face. It was unfair and she knew it.

  “G-good afternoon, Mr. Banfield,” she managed to squeak out. She took a cautious step farther into the library. “Are you settling in well?”

  He nodded as he looked around with a smile. “It is a fine estate, which your brother told me I could explore at my leisure. I was making the attempt when I was waylaid here. It is the best room of the house so far.”

  She blinked, for she agreed about the assessment. She didn’t like being of a mind with him. It felt…a little like a trap. She cleared her throat. “The, er, music room is another of my favorite haunts.”

  Now why had she told him that? He certainly couldn’t care about her tiny little interests. Nor should she offer them to him as if he were anything more than a stranger.

  But to her surprise, his eyes lit up. “Ah, I have not yet found the music room. I assume you play pianoforte?”

  She nodded. “I do.”

  “I have been known to play a tune or two, myself,” he said with another smile. This one felt a bit more genuine.

  She stared at him. He liked to read and to play piano? Those were not the activities she would have guessed were the favorites of such a man.

  She pursed her lips at the connection she hadn’t wished to find and changed the subject. “You are Robert’s brother.”

  His brows lifted. “Yes. Robert. So informal with the great Duke of Roseford?”

  Heat filled her cheeks at the observation and she dropped her gaze to the floor. “Well, I’ve known him almost all my life, so perhaps I am a little more familiar than I normally would be with a duke,” she explained softly. “He and my brother are very close.”

  “Yes.” There was a flicker of something…dark in his stare. Something a little sad. Then he masked it and smiled. As if this were all a game. For the first time, she noticed he had a dimple beneath those whiskers. “And your brother tells me I also work for you, my lady.”

  Lizzie drew back in surprise at that bit of news. “Work for me?” she repeated. “N-no, you must have misunderstood.”

  “Did I?” he asked, stepping a long stride closer. “You don’t have things you need?”

  Her lips parted in surprise. He was being playful, teasing. Flirting with her. And part of her was drawn to that fact. Drawn to this handsome man’s charm. Just as she had been to another man. One who had lied so prettily and played her for the worst kind of fool.

  She folded her arms and glared at Mr. Banfield, hoping he would see that she was not to be trifled with. “You forget yourself,” she whispered, wishing her voice didn’t tremble. “Good day.”

  She pivoted away from him before he could respond and stalked from the room. But the moment she was out of his line of sight, she ran. Away from the library, away from the man so invading her space.

  And away from the unwanted flutter this conversation had put in her belly. She would do well not to feel such a thing. There was no good that could come of it.

  Morgan lay in the narrow bed in his small but serviceable chamber that night. It had been hours since his unexpected encounter with Lady Elizabeth. He should have been able to chalk that up entirely to being busy. After all, he’d had a household to meet and share a meal with. The servants had all been friendly—a little guarded, perhaps, but welcoming. Afterward, he’d busied unpacking and settling into his room. It was a huge estate—it was very likely one could go days without seeing the other inhabitants, and that wouldn’t be because anyone was avoiding anyone else.

  Except he had the distinct impression Elizabeth was avoiding him after their encounter in the library. He’d spent the remainder of his afternoon and evening watching Brighthollow every time they were in the same room, waiting for the moment when he would be sacked. It was clear the duke was protective of his sister, and if she said the word, Morgan would be gone.

  But it never happened, and so he had to assume Elizabeth hadn’t gone to her family and said the same words that she had left ringing in his ears in the library.

  You forget yourself.

  That was the story of his life, really. Forgetting himself. Suffering the consequences. Wallowing in them. Sometimes reveling in them.

  But this time he couldn’t. If he wanted to keep this position—and for the moment he did—he was going to have to charm the duke’s sister by being polite when he encountered her, not chase her off by going too far. By being himself. Now he just had to figure out how, exactly, to be someone else.

  Chapter 4

  Lizzie sat on the window seat in her study, feet tucked up beneath her as she stared out at the garden below. The garden that was accusing her because she had not done a single thing to improve it, not even in the two days since Hugh and Mr. Banfield had returned to the estate.

  She could have lied and told herself that it was the excitement of the new arrival that had kept her from the work. Except that Mr. Banfield had not come around since that first day when she found him in the library. He’d been busy, settling in with the servants, learning about new duties with her brother. She’d only seen him once or twice in passing, and though she’d felt him watching her from time to time, he hadn’t bothered her.

  No, her own thoughts were guilty of that, but not the man, himself. But now the other guests had arrived. Lizzie had watched their carriages roll onto the drive that afternoon and the friends tumble out. She’d watched the usual warmth and brotherhood between Hugh and Robert and Ewan. Observed the laughter between the couples and the true friendship and bond. And then she’d sat up just a little higher and watched as Morgan shook his brother’s hand with no more connection than he had with Ewan or Hugh. They weren’t close, that was clear.

  She jerked her head up at the memory and got to her feet. It was none of her business what the situation was between Banfield and Robert. Or Banfield and anyone else, for that matter. He was her brother’s employee, nothing more.

  She walked toward her escritoire in the corner of the room, ready to write down a list of things to do for the garden, when there was a light knock on her door.

  Amelia ducked her head into the room. “There you are!” she said, face bright with pleasure.

  Lizzie shrugged her thoughts away and forced a smile in return. “Were you looking for me?”

  Amelia worried her lip a moment, and then stepped into the study and shut the door behind herself. She leaned against the barrier a moment and Lizzie felt her sizing her up. Fretting over her. The focused attention was uncomfortable and she shifted beneath it.

  “Are you well?” Amelia asked at last and with great care to her voice, as if she thought just the question would shatter Lizzie.

  Lizzie fought the urge to sigh. She wasn’t glass, no matter what her family thought. “Of course,” she said, and broadened her false smile a fraction.

  Amelia’s brow wrinkled. “It is just that you have been so quiet since our arrival in Brighthollow.”

  “I’m always quiet,” Lizzie said, clenching a fist at her side gently and trying to maintain eye contact when what she wanted to do was run away.

  “So you aren’t…troubled?” Amelia pressed.

  “No!” Lizzie burst out, a little too loudly, a little too quickly. She ducked her head and repeated it, this time with more control. “No. Not at all. Ther
e has been so much excitement with all the newcomers, I’m sure it’s just that.”

  Amelia nodded slowly, but from her expression, Lizzie wasn’t certain her sister-in-law believed her explanation. But she didn’t pursue it and instead smiled brightly. “Speaking of newcomers, I’m sure you heard that Robert and Katherine and Ewan and Charlotte have arrived.”

  “Yes,” Lizzie said, and now she could breathe again, for this topic was far less fraught. “I saw from my window a short while ago.”

  “Well, we were about to have tea once the ladies settled in. Won’t you come join us?”

  Lizzie nodded and linked her arm through Amelia’s without hesitation. “Of course.”

  Amelia led her out of her study and down the hall toward the parlor. As they entered, Lizzie smiled. It was all laid out perfectly, but of course it would be. Amelia had taken to her duties as duchess with enthusiasm in the three years she and Hugh had been married. It was as if she were born for the role…and for the man. Despite a difficult beginning, now it felt like everything was in place for the pair.

  “Later I want to talk to you about something,” Amelia said. “Hugh and I wish to discuss it with you together.”

  Lizzie’s goodwill fled as she pivoted to face her friend. “What is it about?”

  Before Amelia could answer, the door to the parlor opened and Katherine, the Duchess of Roseford, and Charlotte, the Duchess of Donburrow, entered together, laughing at once. Whatever Amelia was going to say was lost as the two women rushed forward, greeting Lizzie and talking about what they wanted in their tea.

  Although Lizzie felt anxious as she glanced at Amelia and wondered what in the world she could want to discuss with her, it was impossible not to feel comfortable in the room with the three women. All of Hugh’s friends had married exceedingly well, to women who were perfectly matched to them. Katherine and Charlotte were no exceptions. Katherine kept the once-wild Duke of Roseford in line, and the man seemed to adore her for it. And Charlotte had developed an intricate hand language with the Duke of Donburrow, who had been unable to speak since birth.

  Both women were kind and welcoming, funny and sharp. And though their friendship was more firmly with Amelia, Lizzie never felt anything but welcomed by any of the duchesses in their friend circle.

  Welcomed, yes. Though not exactly comfortable. After all, the common factor for them all wasn’t their position, but the fact that they were all in love. Every duchess was head over heels for her duke. They all had faith that the future was a beautiful thing where that love would not, could not die.

  And that was what kept Lizzie on the fringes of their circle more than anything. She wasn’t like them. She never would be.

  “And how is Morgan settling in?” Katherine asked as she took her cup from Amelia with a smile. Lizzie stiffened at the mention of their unwanted new addition. “Robert has worried about him greatly, though he likes to pretend he isn’t fully invested in his half-brother’s success.”

  “He has settled in well enough,” Amelia said. “He’s only been here a few days, but has been studying Hugh’s books.”

  “Tell me more about him,” Charlotte said. “I’m endlessly fascinated by Robert’s pursuit of his half-siblings.”

  Katherine nodded. “Well, Robert’s father is where they all got their wild streak. He was an unkind man, but he must have had charm like his sons and daughters, for he never had a deficit of lovers at his door.” She glanced at Lizzie. “I’m sorry, my dear.”

  Lizzie shrugged one shoulder even though her throat felt like it would close at the uncouth subject. “I’m fine.”

  “The old duke supported his by-blows, obviously,” Charlotte pressed.

  Katherine frowned. “Financially. And I think there were some he tried to influence personally. But there was little relationship there. Robert decided a few years ago that he wanted to change that. He has always continued the financial support of the estate, but also begun to forge relationships with his siblings where he can. Some are…easier than others.”

  Lizzie frowned at this new bit of information about Morgan Banfield. “I assume this means Mr. Banfield is one of the difficult ones,” she said softly. “Does that bode well for Hugh and his goals?”

  Katherine glanced at her from the corner of her eye and then toward Amelia. “Don’t mistake me. Morgan is…yes, he is a challenge at times. He’s wild, but that’s not his entire personality. He’s very intelligent and a good judge of other people. It’s amazing sometimes to watch him call out the truth of a person with just one look.”

  Lizzie’s lips parted. This man could read people so easily? She didn’t like that idea. She didn’t want to be read by a stranger. She didn’t want the truth that she protected so jealously to be revealed by a cavalier person like Morgan Banfield.

  “That’s a good skill for a man of affairs,” Charlotte mused. “The ability to read people could mean he will sense their intentions all the easier. Ewan can do the same, I think. See into a person’s heart.”

  “Yes,” Katherine said. “Morgan is also of an artistic bent. He plays the pianoforte beautifully, though it’s almost impossible to get him to do it for company. And he is…good. I just see it in him, behind all the other foolishness he chooses to share with the world. In the end, I think he is much like Robert before…”

  “Before you,” Charlotte said with a laugh the other two women joined in. Lizzie couldn’t bring herself to do the same, especially when Charlotte added, “That would solve the problem, wouldn’t it? We just need to find this Mr. Banfield his Katherine and he’ll come right in line, the best reformed rake in the country.”

  “Second best,” Katherine said with a giggle. “I refuse to think that anyone else could reform better than my Robert has. But perhaps you’re right. We need to match the young man, that is all.”

  Lizzie had been shifting as this conversation unfolded, but now she couldn’t stay still any longer. With a gasp, she got up and paced away to the sideboard, where she fiddled with the teapot as she tried to regain her equilibrium.

  “Lizzie, are you quite well?” Amelia called out, and concern was thick in her tone.

  Lizzie glanced back to find all three women staring at her with open, warm expressions. They were so loving and nonjudgmental. She knew she could talk to them about anything, and yet what would she say? That Morgan Banfield made her nervous due to his mere existence? That sounded so foolish and churlish when the man had done nothing more than harmlessly flirt with her a little in the library.

  So she pushed her thoughts aside and shook her head. “I’m very well, pardon my woolgathering. I’m only thinking about a project I’m working on.”

  “What project is that?” Charlotte asked, her eyes lighting up with interest. Everyone in their circle knew that the Duchess of Donburrow was always finding something new to pursue. She seemed to be an expert at every pastime she tried.

  “The garden,” Lizzie admitted, and her anxiety eased as she said the words. Yes, that’s what she needed to do. Refocus. Nothing else mattered but this, did it?

  “Hugh and Lizzie’s mother left a redesign behind at her death,” Amelia explained more fully. “We found the plans last Christmas, and Lizzie has been determined to see them through this summer, which is why we came here.”

  “Rather than finish your Season, my dear?” Katherine asked, her brow wrinkling with confusion. “I would think you’d want to dance away at balls and return to this in the autumn.”

  Before Lizzie could answer the question, she saw Amelia give her head the very tiniest shake, and the look that came over Katherine and Charlotte’s faces was humiliating. She knew their entire circle was aware of her fall from grace years before. Their club didn’t keep secrets from each other. No one had ever spoken of it to her beyond Amelia and Hugh.

  But seeing the dawn of understanding felt like it yanked her past from under her feet and caused her to fall flat on her back. Her breath came shorter and she dug her fingernails into her pal
ms as she fought to remain light and carefree.

  “I do not care much for London,” she managed to choke out.

  Amelia got to her feet and hustled over. She took the pot of tea Lizzie didn’t even realize she was still holding and freshened first her cup, then Amelia’s own. She smiled at her kindly. “You know, perhaps this would be a place where Mr. Banfield could assist you. Katherine says he is of an artistic bent. I’m certainly not.”

  The room laughed, for if Charlotte was a master at any craft she tried, Amelia was the opposite. Everyone had received her crooked needlepoint for one holiday or another. Lizzie tried to join in on the inside joke, but her throat was closing all the faster.

  “Mr. Banfield said something about assisting me, as well,” she said with a shake of her head as she tried to forget the way he’d held her stare, the cheeky wink that had haunted her ever since. “But I don’t need help.”

  Katherine’s smile fell. “That’s too bad. I think Morgan does.”

  Lizzie gaped at those words. Morgan Banfield needed help? She wanted to doubt it, but she’d never known Katherine to be anything but honest, and her expression was filled with genuine worry. Everyone had talked about Mr. Banfield being wild and also…lost.

  She frowned. It was in her nature to help others. It always had been. Now she was torn between a desire to offer a hand to another in need…and to avoid the touch of a person who terrified her because he was just too…too much. But perhaps that would be the buffer she needed. All those years ago with Aaron, she had been tricked by the game he played. She’d believed in him simply because he told her she should.