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

by Olivia Bennet

  She felt his chest rise and fall with a slow breath. He said nothing. She nuzzled her nose against him, her whole heart aching to hear him say that he loved her too. As the moment dragged on, her hope sagged.

  When she finally worked up the nerve to look up at him, he gazed down at her with an unreadable expression.

  “I’d better get you home,” he whispered.

  Barbara bit down on the inside of her lip to keep from crying like a child again.

  “All right,” she said.

  He doesn’t love me. Why would he? I’m naive and clinging, unrefined and sluttish. I’m a fool. A damned fool.

  Every step back to the road felt like her feet were made of heavy iron. He offered his arm to her, and she took it automatically, but the gesture felt empty. Not like before, when walking next to him had brought her such a lightness and excitement. No, she’d ruined that.

  They didn’t talk all the way back to her home. The silence was thick and terrible and she wished with all of her heart that there was something she could say to undo the disaster that she’d made of their relationship. Never before had she wished to be out of his presence so earnestly.

  Finally, they were climbing the steps to her home.

  “I’m sorry, Barbara,” he said as they stood before the door. “Things…went awry today. It’s my fault.”

  “No, it’s mine.”

  His lip quirked up in one corner and he reached for her hand, raising it to his lips as he bowed. Straightening up again, he stepped closer and lowered his voice.

  “I think no differently of you now than I did before. I want you to be assured of that. You did nothing wrong. Nothing.”

  The sexual guilt gnawed at her worse than ever as he promised her that.

  “All right,” she said, though she felt wooden and cold.

  “I’m sorry,” he said again.

  She gave him a watery smile.

  Please just go away so I don’t cry in front of you like an idiot again.

  He seemed to read her mind, and with another short bow, he turned and descended the steps back to the road.

  Chapter 24

  When Jeffrey walked into Barbara’s home four days later, he was struck by the emptiness of it. It was a grand estate, with lofty ceilings and a grand staircase, but there was something cold about it. It felt empty. As he and his mother were led to the drawing room, he noticed all of the closed doors they passed on the way and remembered that Barbara and her father were the only ones who lived there, other than the servants.

  “It really has been far too long, Your Grace,” his mother said to the Duke of Delistown.

  Barbara had said nothing other than a brief “Good Evening” when first greeting them at the steps. Four days had passed since the encounter near the spring. Four days of silence. He couldn’t bring himself to return to the orphanage, though he longed to see her.

  “Far too long, indeed,” the Duke replied to Jeffrey’s mother. As they were seated in the dining hall, Jeffrey couldn’t help but notice the family resemblance between Barbara and her father. She was seated directly across from him, with his mother at his side. She wasn’t looking at him, at least not into his eyes. A cold shiver went down Jeffrey’s back, and it wasn’t merely the chill of the large room.

  How did I manage to mess everything up so thoroughly?

  Truthfully, Jeffrey had been shocked when the card inviting himself and his mother to dinner had arrived the day before. He had been sure that Barbara would have forgotten the whole thing and never agreed to see him again. The look of hurt and embarrassment in her eyes when he had left her at her front door the last time had been so profound, he knew that things would never be as they had been before.

  It had been impossible to celebrate the invitation though, even if his heart did skip a beat at the thought of seeing her again. It was more likely that she had already told her father about the dinner and she couldn’t see any way of getting out of it without revealing the truth about what she and he had done.

  Looking across the table at her now, he thought he could see the color rise in her cheeks as she stared down at her plate. Was she remembering that afternoon near the spring?

  Images swarmed in his mind, of her on her back in the soft bed of clover, the soft sighs emanating from her parted lips mixing with the sound of the breeze through the trees.

  “Captain Pemberton?” her father asked.

  Suddenly snapped back to the present, Jeffrey realized to his horror that everyone was looking at him, waiting for him to answer.

  “I’m sorry, I…what was that?” he asked, his ears burning.

  He glanced at Barbara. Before, she would have laughed at his misadventures, her mirth lightening the mood. The eyes that looked back at him now were only somber and quiet.

  “I asked how you are managing yourself on land. I take it this is rather a trial for you. We must seem so boring.” The Duke smiled. Yes, Barbara did get her smile from him. The old man was warm and kind, and Jeffrey wished that he was in the mindset to appreciate the Duke’s friendship.

  “Not boring at all,” Jeffrey said, chancing a smile of his own. “I confess I was wary about the length of my stay here, but I find that I am keeping myself rather busy after all.”

  Barbara shifted in her seat, drawing his eye back to her.

  “He’s been visiting the orphanage so much I’ve considered sending a cot and his wardrobe there just to save him time,” his mother quipped.

  The Duke laughed. “You know, there just must be something about that place. Lady Barbara all but lives there, too.”

  “I was so glad to hear that my son had struck up a friendship with Lady Barbara,” his mother said. Jeffrey watched her. It was odd to see his mother preen. He was used to seeing her only against the backdrop of the cold mansion where he had been raised, her jaw stern and her eyes disapproving. She seemed like a different person here, all wit and charm. “I think she will be a good influence on him. Jeffrey can be so shy.”

  The Duke answered something about Barbara also being shy, but it was hard for Jeffrey to follow along. Seeing Barbara now, he could only think of how she had said she loved him.

  His mind rioted against her confession. It just couldn’t be true. Such a thing was impossible.

  Look at her, all aglow in the firelight. What could she possibly see in you?

  And yet, he had clearly been in the wrong when he assumed that she was only interested in him as a plaything, a practice beau. He’d never meant to offend her, but now it seemed that he had hurt her beyond her capacity to forgive. She still barely glanced at him across the table.

  Thankfully, their parents carried the conversation essentially by themselves. Barbara offered a few polite interjections here and there, enough to give the impression that this was a normal dinner. It was better than he could do. Jeffrey had never been more uncomfortable.

  “An aviary! My goodness that must be lovely.” His mother’s voice cut into his internal suffering.

  “Yes, my middle daughter had a great fondness for birds. Of course, she’s married and moved to Scotland now, and she couldn’t exactly take it with her. Still, the birds give me something to care for, now that Barbara has become so independent.”

  Barbara chuckled softly. “You still take care of me, Father.”

  “I’ve always thought the idea of keeping birds to be terribly romantic. I suppose it’s too dark for me to see them tonight?” his mother continued.

  “Not at all,” the Duke said, smiling indulgently. “I’m sure Lady Barbara would be happy to show them to you while the Captain and I have brandy and cigars.”

  Jeffrey’s heart dropped into his stomach. The guilt of what he had done with the man’s daughter filled him with dread at the thought of a private tete-a-tete with the Duke. He looked across at him, trying to read the man’s intentions.

  Could Barbara have told him everything? What if this whole dinner was a ruse to get me alone where he will take me to task for defiling h
is daughter?

  The kindly old Duke seemed like the least likely candidate for such a dressing down, but Jeffrey’s heart still pounded in his chest.

  No, she’s far too shy and withdrawn to tell such a thing to her father.

  His self assurances rang hollow in his own head.

  * * *

  Relief washed over Barbara at the prospect of leaving the table. It was agony to sit across from Jeffrey, unable to forget about the feeling of his hands on her. In the past few days, she had tried with all her might to forget about him, to remove all last dregs of hope in her heart that he might change his mind and tell her that he loved her too.

  She had searched for an excuse to cancel the dinner without raising suspicions. It wasn’t as if she could simply go to her father and say, “Oh yeah, I want to cancel the dinner because the Captain made love to me under a tree and when I said I loved him he didn’t say it back so now it’s a little uncomfortable.”

  She shifted in her seat, twisting her hands anxiously in her lap. She’d been picking at a hangnail on her left thumb all evening and now it burned painfully.

  “I’d love to show you the birds, Lady Carlesend,” she said, setting down her spoon as if she meant to bolt from the room right that minute.

  She accidentally locked eyes with Jeffrey then. He looked as though he was going to be sick. She could have laughed, if she were not so miserable. At least she was not the only one suffering through this meal. When one corner of his lip twitched as though to offer her a smile, she quickly turned away.

  After a few minutes, Barbara found herself alone with the Dowager Countess. She was a grand lady, with a regal air that made it impossible to imagine her in any informal scenario.

  “Have you always had an interest in birds, My Lady?” Barbara asked, as she picked up a lamp and led her toward the back of the house.

  “Oh yes, for years and years.”

  “Why not build an aviary of your own?” Barbara asked lightly. As intimidating as the Dowager Countess was, it was still a relief to be away from Jeffrey. Though she shuddered to think of what he and her father might be speaking of.

  “My late husband couldn’t abide the noise.”

  Barbara looked at the woman silently, though her silence was as clear as words would have been to say, “My Lady, your late husband is in no position to mind the noise anymore.”

  “I see.”

  The aviary was a great gilt cage in an alcove of the tall hedge that surrounded the garden. The birds were mostly nestled up against the chill, but many still flittered about, chirping pleasantly. Green finches, nightingales, and larks made up the majority of them.

  “Oh, how sweet,” the Dowager Countess said, with such softness in her voice.

  “There’s a parrot around here somewhere…” Barbara said, scanning the aviary.

  “Here he is!” The Dowager Countess sounded as pleased as a child.

  “Don’t let him fool you, My Lady, he’s a great grumpy old thing.”

  The Dowager Countess laughed. “All the better. Though, I can see that you yourself have quite a way with grumpy old things. I simply can’t shake the surprise at how you have endeared yourself to my son.”

  Barbara cringed. “Oh?”

  “Indeed. I expect that he will propose, you know. I wonder how you would answer…?” The older lady asked archly.

  Barbara scoffed. “Oh, no I don’t think he will.”

  “No? I think you’re mistaken, my dear. Perhaps you aren’t aware of just how reclusive my son normally is. Even if his interest seems tepid in comparison to that of the more ardent gentlemen you may be familiar with, I assure you that any interest at all from my son means a very great deal.”

  “Oh,” Barbara didn’t know what else to say.

  “When he does propose, I only want you to know that it is my greatest wish that he marries. I know that he can seem rather cold at times, and of course he will be away often, and then there is the matter of those scars, but I’m sure that he could make you happy, my dear. Or at the very least he could keep you in comfort and be at sea often enough not to trouble you.”

  Barbara blinked. For a mother trying to convince a lady to marry her son, she certainly did paint a rather grim portrait of him.

  “Well,” Barbara stammered. “I still don’t believe that he wishes to propose to me, My Lady. But…if he ever does, I will keep those things in mind.”

  The Dowager Countess nodded sagely as if they had made some kind of solemn pact, then went back to cooing over the birds.

  Chapter 25

  Jeffrey felt as timid as a schoolboy being summoned to the headmaster’s office. The Duke’s study was as dark and imposing as any schoolmaster’s, with rich mahogany wood and dark leather wherever the eye landed.

  The man himself could almost put him at ease though. As the Duke poured out two crystal glasses of amber brandy, he was grinning mischievously.

  “You know, it’s been too long since I have had a drink that wasn’t solitary. I’ve missed having my sons at home.” He handed Jeffrey a glass.

  “My mother could commiserate with you there, Sir. I’m her only child, so as you can imagine I hear no end of torment for abandoning her all alone when I go to sea.”

  The Duke laughed. He was a good-natured man, with an easiness about him that explained so much about his daughter.

  “Yes, it’s not difficult to imagine the Dowager Countess…well…”

  “Complaining. It’s all right, you can say it,” Jeffrey laughed.

  The Duke was mirthful as he sipped his brandy. “I mean nothing by it. She’s a singular Lady. And it’s clear that she loves you very much.”

  Jeffrey bristled, though he tried to hide it. Yes, she could be said to love him, if her meddling anxiousness to see him married and her fortune passed on to an heir could be taken for maternal affection.

  “Still, I can’t imagine being an only son. I’ve got two brothers of my own, and even spread three ways I could still find my mother’s, shall we call it, attentiveness, unbearable,” the Duke continued. “It must put quite a bit of pressure on you.”

  “Yes, well,” Jeffrey sipped the brandy. It was expensive stuff, and it felt thick and hot as it worked its way down his throat. There was really nothing more to say, and the silence stretched on for a moment.

  “So. Lady Barbara,” the Duke began.

  Jeffrey jumped slightly at the sudden change of subject.

  The Duke laughed again. “My, you’re a jumpy lad. If you don’t relax I’ll start to think you’re guilty of something.”

  Jeffrey swallowed.

  Jesus Christ, he knows.

  The Duke shook his head slowly. “I love my daughter dearly, Captain Pemberton. More than I can possibly say. She’s the last of her mother that I’ve got, with her sisters gone and settled. And she’s so much like her mother, more than the other girls.”

  The Duke settled himself into a leather chair, prompting Jeffrey to do the same. The older man had turned thoughtful, and was gazing into the dark liquid in his cup, swirling the brandy around the glass before continuing.

  “These past years since her coming out, I have been so conflicted. On the one hand, it’s every parent’s wish to see their children happily established. On the other hand, I tell you son, I can’t bear to part with her.”

  The Duke looked up at him, fixing Jeffrey with a look that was filled with poignancy. Jeffrey’s guilt at mishandling the daughter who the Duke clearly loved so dearly, felt like hot coals on his heart.

  “Still, she likes you,” the Duke said with a defeated shrug.

  “Oh, I don’t know that she likes me all that much…” Jeffrey said.

  The Duke raised an eyebrow at him. “No?”

  “I…” Jeffrey stammered.

  “That child has had more suitors than both of her sisters combined. Not that she took any note of them. Captain, I tell you, it’s as good as a miracle that her head has finally been turned. I was beginning to think it mi
ght not ever happen.”

  Jeffrey was reminded of what she had said, about gentlemen being paraded out for her and never taking an interest in any of them.

  “I suppose it’s better to be careful about these sorts of things,” Jeffrey said dumbly. “Better than rushing into a lifelong arrangement with the first person who offers.”

  “Have you?” the Duke asked.