A Seductive Lady For The Scarred Earl (Steamy Regency Romance)

by Olivia Bennet

  The carriage ride was interminable. The entire way, his nerves were threatening to get the best of him. It had been so long since he had stepped into a crowded room. Once, he had been accustomed to the feeling of eyes turning to look at him and masking their disgust in polite indifference. He was out of practice now, and when they arrived at the Duke’s estate, his feet were leaden as he was led into the ballroom.

  The room was filled with a soft golden glow. Candlelight flickered off the glistening satin and silks of the ladies dresses and the clinking of wine glasses sounded like tiny bells throughout the high-ceilinged room. Jeffrey tilted his head down, letting his hair fall over his forehead. He knew that it hardly covered the scars that ravaged the right half of his face, but it was a nervous habit he had never been able to completely overcome.

  He slinked along the back wall, walking lightly among the wallflowers and elderly nobles who gazed on at the dancing young people in the center of the room. Passing a servant carrying a tray of drinks, he picked one up and drank half of it at once. The bubbly champagne tore at his dry throat, but the alcohol at least dulled the anxiety that pricked at the back of his neck.

  He gazed about the room, desperate to find someone he knew to talk to. He searched for the Duke himself. At least he could thank him for the invitation, and the Duke would not be surprised by Jeffrey’s scars.

  Seeing the Duke on the other side of the room, speaking jovially to a clutch of older ladies, Jeffrey felt himself smiling. It seemed that the widower was attracting the attention of the ladies. Jeffrey wandered toward the Duke, but hovered around the edge of the group around him until the Duke had disengaged from the conversation before greeting him.

  “Your Grace, thank you for inviting me,” Jeffrey said, with a bow.

  “Captain Pemberton! I must confess I am surprised to see you here, despite your answer to the invitation. And how pleased I am that you have come. It’s been some time!”

  Jeffrey was put on edge by the overt friendliness of the older gentleman. “Ah, yes. Five years, I believe. I saw you last at Bath, if I remember correctly.”

  “Bath, heavens. We really must go back there sometime, eh? You’re looking well.”

  Jeffrey pressed his lips into a forced smile. He was not looking well. The polite lie felt like a needle in his skin.

  “Thank you, Your Grace. And you as well. I’ve come to offer my help and support for the orphanage. If you don’t mind, I can make my contribution now and be on my way—”

  “Nonsense, Captain Pemberton,” The Duke said, patting Jeffrey on the back. “The evening has just begun. And anyway, none of this was my doing. It’s my daughter you will need to talk to.”

  “Your daughter?” Jeffrey asked. The Duke was looking over his shoulder now and seemed to have made eye contact with someone.

  “Yes, darling, now is fine. Go on ahead,” the Duke said. Jeffrey turned around to see who he was talking to but caught only the back of a lady’s head as she walked away. She was wearing a fine silk and lace dress and dainty ringlets fell down along a long and aristocratic neck.

  That must be the daughter.

  He’d known of the Duke’s children by name only, having never met any of them personally. As far as he remembered, they’d all been married and begun their own lives. This daughter looked quite young though, certainly not yet a mother. When she turned around to face the gathered crowd, Jeffrey’s heart thudded. It was the woman from the road.

  He almost didn’t recognize her at first. Her hair now was smoothed and arranged in a precise fashion, so unlike the wild appearance she’d had walking along the country road. Her gown clung to her bosom and the milky swell of her breasts captured his attention for a moment before she began to speak.

  “Attention, everyone!” she called. “If you please.”

  So, this is her voice.

  It was just as he had imagined it. Clear and feminine, charming in the extreme, but apparently not demanding enough to capture the attention of a milling crowd.

  At first, her father and himself seemed to be the only people who were paying attention to her. Jeffrey watched irritation flit across her delicate features. She did not look much like her father except for her green eyes, which just then were flashing with determination. She tried again, raising her voice louder until the heads of the guests craned around to look at her.

  Suddenly, she looked nervous. She chewed on her bottom lip and cleared her throat. His eyes caught onto that small motion; the pink lip caught between her teeth. As much as he had been enchanted by her wilder appearance the other day, the blush of her gown brought out the corresponding pink of her lips and the warm undertones of her skin. He imagined what that skin must taste like if his lips grazed over the pulse point at the side of her neck.

  Pay attention you fool.

  “Right. Thank you. As you know, this ball serves an important purpose beyond mere socializing. To get right to it, the Cluett Home for Orphaned Children does not currently have the funds it needs in order to grow with the needs of the town…”

  She went on to describe the home and its services and how dear it was to her heart. Jeffrey glanced at the Duke from the corner of his eye. He’d thought that the orphanage was the Duke’s own project, but it seemed that he’d been wrong in assuming so.

  The slight lady up on the musician’s platform transformed before his very eyes as she spoke about the foundation. Her nervousness seemed to melt away, being replaced with a fire of passion and devotion. Her large eyes shone with earnestness, and Jeffrey found himself eager to part with as much money as he could bear to give her.

  When she spoke of the orphans, the ache in her heart reverberated through his own.

  His breath caught in his throat when her eyes drifted over him. For a moment he thought she was looking right at him, but then realized that, no, she was looking at her father next to him. The old gentleman smiled encouragingly.

  But then, she did look at him. Her voice faltered for a moment as her eyes landed on his own, then darted down the side of his face. Jeffrey was overcome with the urge to turn away and hide his scars from her gaze which was so penetrating even from many feet away. He saw recognition flit across her face. She remembered him.

  But her hesitation lasted only a moment before she went on.

  “So please, if you think there is any way you can help, speak to Mister Bradley,” she motioned to a man who had his mouth unfortunately full of cake at the moment. “Or myself, and we will be most exceedingly grateful for your contribution.”

  When she stepped down from the platform, the ballroom again returned to the buzzing mass of noise and movement that it had been before she spoke. At least, for all except Jeffrey. He stood, stock still, and watched the honey-haired lady as she meandered through the crowd.

  Chapter 9

  Jeffrey watched, transfixed, as the strange lady bobbed through the crowd. He wanted to follow her, to hear her speak more, but he knew that to be approached by a man such as himself would only distress her.

  He turned back to the Duke.

  “Your daughter is a singular lady. Does she often give such speeches?” Jeffrey asked.

  The Duke chuckled. “No, that was the first time I’ve ever seen her give one, in fact. She did quite well, didn’t she? I’ve already got most of my income tied up in her charity foundations, and even I am feeling inspired to dig deeper into my pockets.”

  “She has the makings of a politician,” Jeffrey said casually.

  The Duke’s chuckle evolved into a hearty laugh. “Don’t tell her that! I know it’s true, but if she got it in her head that such a career was possible for her, I would never get her to marry.”

  “Is she not married?” Jeffrey asked, feigning casual interest when really the thought of being her man himself made his head spin.

  “She hasn’t even got a beau. Plenty of suitors, of course, being who she is. But, and I don’t mind being candid with you, she’s far too picky. It will take a king among men to
sweep her off her feet.”

  Although Jeffrey had not consciously been thinking of it, the buoy of hope and interest at learning that she wasn’t married was sunk completely by this last statement.

  A king among men he most certainly was not and would never be.

  “I suppose I should go and speak to this Mister Bradley, then,” Jeffrey said with a short bow to the Duke.

  The ballroom was almost uncomfortably full then. People milled about and danced and joked so that the entire large room vibrated with energy. Jeffrey was unaccustomed to being among so many people, and he felt himself adjusting his posture to try to make himself smaller. He hunched his shoulders, shrinking away from any accidental brush against them.

  “Captain Pemberton!” A lady’s voice called out. Jeffrey whirled around to see a graying lady arrayed in such a mass of silk and ribbons that she had the appearance of a porcelain doll. She bobbed up to him on petite feet and beamed up at him. Her round face was exuberant, and wholly unconcerned with his scars.

  “My Lady, good evening,” he said to Lady Withington, who had once been close to his family.

  “It’s been so long since you’ve been spotted out and about. I was beginning to worry,” she said.

  “You needn’t worry about me, I can quite take care of myself.” He meant it to sound reassuring, but he found that his voice sounded rather gruff to his own ears.

  “Of course, no one could be surprised that a ball such as this would be the one to finally draw you out. You always did have such a soft heart. Isn’t it terribly strange though?”

  “Isn’t what strange?” he asked absently. He was looking over the small old lady’s head, searching for Mister Bradley in the crowd. Instead, his eye was caught by the sight of the Duke’s daughter. She was grinning and laughing with a young gentleman who seemed to be asking her to dance. Something about the sight unnerved him.

  “Why, Lady Barbara. She’s what’s strange. I hear that she is the one who is really in charge of the orphanage, as well as half a dozen other charitable foundations in the area. The Duke is merely the financial underpinnings of it all. I can’t imagine how she finds the time for it all. She should be busy, you know. She is of two-and-twenty years, now..”

  “Are two-and-twenty year-old ladies often very busy?” He asked, though his mind was elsewhere as he saw the gentleman take Lady Barbara by the elbow and draw her toward the dance.

  “Busy finding husbands, Captain Pemberton. Really, the Duke is far too lenient with her. If her mother were still here, God rest her soul, she’d be married with two bouncing babies underfoot already.”

  “She seems happy enough,” he offered weakly.

  “For now, I suppose. But an orphanage isn’t going to provide for her in her old age. An orphanage can’t come and visit her when she’s old and withered like me.”

  Jeffrey smiled, finally looking back down at the Countess. “Withered like you? I’ve never heard such nonsense. You look as fresh and bright as when I was a lad.

  The lady blushed, shaking her head so that the ringlets around her face bounced excitedly. “You are a flirt, My Lord. Were your parents still here, I’d give them an earful about your continued bachelorhood as well, you know.”

  “Excuse me, My Lady. I see this Mister Bradley just there, and I need to speak to him,” he said, bowing to the lady.

  “Yes, of course.”

  Jeffrey sidled past the Countess, eager to remove himself from the trajectory of her conversation. Mister Bradley was alone for the moment, and Jeffrey was able to command his attention.

  Mister Bradley’s gray eyes widened at the sight of Jeffrey’s scars for a moment, but his politeness took over and he recovered quickly.

  “Mister Bradley?” Jeffrey asked.

  “Yes, Sir?”

  “I’m Captain Pemberton, the Earl of Carlesend. I’d like to make a contribution.”

  “Wonderful. Yes. I’ll just—” The old man seemed overwhelmed by the great influx of attention he’d been subject to ever since Lady Barbara’s announcement. As he reached into his pocket to retrieve a card, several others fell out, tumbling to the ground.

  “Gracious!” the old man said.

  “Let me,” Jeffrey said, crouching down to collect the many calling cards from the ground. It seemed that Lady Barbara’s plea had been effective, as Earls and Dukes and Counts from all walks of life had filled her manager’s pockets with their information.

  “You’ll be busy answering all these,” he said, handing the small stack back to the man.

  Mister Bradley smiled. He looked happy, but overwhelmed. “It was a brilliant idea, and Lady Barbara is an unexpectedly persuasive orator, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Yes, I was rather—”

  “Ah, here she is now,” Mister Bradley interrupted.

  Jeffrey whirled around, a spike of fear coursing through him as he saw that the lady herself was just behind him. She was smiling at Mister Bradley, and at first, she didn’t look at him at all.

  “Well, Mister Bradley?” she asked.

  “I think you’ve done it, Lady Barbara.” Mister Bradley said. “Er, this is Captain Pemberton, Earl of…”

  “Carlesend.”

  “Carlesend, right. Captain, this is Lady Barbara.”

  “How do you do, My Lady?” Jeffrey asked. Her eyes were transfixed on his face and, inwardly, he writhed uncomfortably under the scrutiny of her gaze. He saw her gaze flit over his scars and his breath caught in his throat as he waited for the twist of her mouth that would betray her disgust before she could hide it behind a mask of well-bred manners. The look of horror never came. Her gaze flicked back to his eyes, seeming to have quickly disregarded his scars as unimportant.

  “Quite well, Captain Pemberton. You must know my father?” Although she seemed to recognize him, she did not bring up their passing on the road.

  “Y-yes,” he stammered. Her eyes were startlingly green at this close distance. “He knew my father. It’s been some time, however. I don’t…often mix with society.”

  “Because of the scars?” she asked, with the innocence of a child.

  “Lady Barbara—” Mister Bradley whispered.

  Jeffrey laughed. With that sincere and blunt question, she had evaporated much of the fear that wracked him. He squared his shoulders, standing up straighter. If she had the boldness to speak her mind and not worry about giving offense, then he reasoned that he, also, could be bold.

  “It’s all right, Mister Bradley. Yes, My Lady, because of the scars.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’ve come tonight, anyway,” she said. Her gaze was unflinching. Jeffrey was accustomed to watching people’s eyes as they spoke to him, how they would land on the right side of his face and either stare in horror or look away quickly. It was often difficult to speak to people, knowing that they likely were not listening to him at all, but rather fixating on his looks.

  This was not so with Lady Barbara. Her gaze was direct, yes, but if there was any horror in her look, it was overpowered by what he could only describe as fascination. Her lips were parted slightly, and her chest rose and fell with her breaths.

  Had he been alone for so long that the sudden proximity with a beautiful lady could be so overwhelming? Or was it merely her lack of disgust that so magnetized him to her? His heart pounded.

  “I…I’m glad I was invited, My Lady.”

  Have you nothing more interesting to say? Quit stammering or she will think you have an impediment!

  “Lady Barbara,” the young gentleman who had danced with her before suddenly approached. The use of her name jolted Jeffrey and he was left to wonder if the Countess had been wrong about her not having a prospective fiancé.

  The lady slid her arm through the gentleman’s as she turned back to Jeffrey.

  “Lord Brookham, this is Captain Pemberton.” She introduced the gentlemen with a practiced air of gentility. Jeffrey nodded to the gentleman, but he felt his hackles rise as Lord Brookham started at the sight of
his scars.

  Lord Brookham greeted Jeffrey curtly, before turning his attention wholly over to Lady Barbara.

  “Come and dance,” he said. It was less of a request and more of a demand, Jeffrey thought.

  She glanced back at him and Jeffrey again felt the sudden elevation of his heart rate when her eyes met his.

  “Oh. Yes, of course. Pardon me, Captain. Mister Bradley,” she excused herself gently before she was whisked away.

  To see her be drawn away felt like having the air sucked out of his lungs. Jeffrey stared after her as she was led toward the other dancers. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her as the music started. She danced sedately, looking rather shyer with Lord Brookham than she had seemed when she spoke so directly about Jeffery’s scars.