An Earl's Wager: Regency Romance (Gentlemen and Brides) Page 14

  “Indeed!” Sophie grinned, enthusiastically. “There were some performances at the pianoforte, and Lord Stockton sang a beautiful solo. I am quite sorry that you missed it.”

  “Oh,” Eliza replied faintly. “I did not know that he sang.”

  There was silence for a moment as Eliza digested the knowledge that she perhaps did not know Lord Stockton as well as she thought. “And how is Mama?” she asked, changing the subject entirely.

  "I have barely seen her," replied Sophie, laughing a little. "She is having a marvelous time with Lady Bessington. I have only spoken a few words to her since we arrived."

  Eliza smiled at her sister, glad that her mother was having a lovely time with her friend. “What about you?” she asked. “You are having a good time also?”

  Surprised to see a slight blush on her sister’s face as she nodded yes, Eliza put it to one side as the maid arrived to bring her the usual cup of tea. At Sophie’s request, the maid brought a cup for her, and the sisters enjoyed a few moments of silence as they relished the strong brew.

  “It is most unlike you to be awake before the tea has arrived,” Eliza began, quirking an eyebrow at her sister. “What has got you so excited to be awake at this hour?”

  “The ball!” Sophie cried, the tea pitching dangerously to one side of her cup. “I quite forgot to tell you. Lady Bessington has announced that there is to be a ball at the end of the week and, even better, the earl is to be in attendance.”

  Trying to show some kind of excitement, Eliza felt her stomach lurch. Lord Penn would want the necklace that evening, as he had said in his letter.

  "We have some time to prepare, so Mama has sent a servant back home to collect our best dresses," her sister continued, unaware of Eliza's lack of enthusiasm. "Mama has chosen the blue silk for you, and I am to wear the red ball gown." Putting her tea to one side, she got off Eliza's bed and twirled around the room in excitement.

  "It is said," Sophie began again, throwing herself backward onto Eliza's bed, "that the earl is a most eligible gentleman, although he has never shown any great interest in any particular lady. Mayhap you shall catch his eye." She winked at Eliza, who tried to smile back.

  “You do not wish to catch his eye, Sophie?”

  There was that blush again. "No, I do not think I would care for the earl," Sophie mumbled, almost to herself. "No, there is someone else's eye I would very much like to catch."

  Stopping herself from saying too much, Sophie jumped off the bed, giving Eliza a quick kiss before exiting the room, leaving her sister wondering as to whom it might be.

  “Are you quite well, my dear?”

  John took her hand, pressing a kiss to it as she looked into his eyes. How strange that his touch did not excite her in the same way that the gardener’s had.

  “Of course, John, I am perfectly at ease,” Eliza replied firmly, choosing to focus on the present for the time being. She took his arm. “Should you care for a stroll around the grounds?”

  “Certainly,” John replied, patting her hand. “The rest of the party should be here soon, so we should not stray too far.”

  They walked in silence, the only sound the crunching of the gravel beneath their feet. Why could she think of nothing to say?

  “I missed you last evening,” John began, as they walked around the side of the great house. “It was not the same without the pleasure of your company.”

  “I missed you also,” Eliza lied, hating that the words of untruth slipped so easily from her tongue. “My sister tells me you sang, and that it was a most beautiful rendition.”

  “That is very kind of Sophie,” John replied. Eliza frowned, surprised at John’s use of her sister’s given name. She supposed they would be family soon enough, so perhaps it could be forgiven.

  John suddenly grabbed her hand and pulled her towards a small alcove.

  “John,” she gasped. “Whatever are you doing?”

  John's only response was to slam his lips down on hers, crushing her body against him. Stunned with surprise, Eliza struggled to react appropriately, feeling overwhelmed by his ardor. His lips were insistent, as though he was trying to force a reaction from her, but Eliza found no pleasure in his caress. John tightened his grip around her waist, knocking her bonnet back and pulling pins from her carefully arranged hair.

  “Why do you not respond to me?” John asked angrily, suddenly wrenching himself from her. “Why do you feel so cold?”

  Completely taken aback by his sudden vehemence, Eliza was left staring at him, mouth agape. “I try to kiss you, to let you know how I feel, and you barely move. You do not act like a woman in love, my dear.” He took a few steps away from her, his fists clenched.

  “I have never said that I loved you, John,” Eliza responded hotly, feeling a flush of anger. “Not once! How presumptuous of you to assume so.”

  They both stared at one another, breathing hard. John's face was still angry in a way she had never seen before. This was not the John she knew. Taking a few deep breaths, Eliza calmed herself, seeing John do the same.

  "I apologize, my dear," he said, his face still flushed but his tone slightly mocking. “I presumed too great a familiarity.” He bowed slightly, his tone reducing still further. “I only wish to prove to you the depths of my affection.”

  Slightly pacified, Eliza made her way to his side, taking his hand in her own gloved one. "I understand that, John, but pulling me to a corner and almost forcing yourself upon me is no way to show your feelings. I have not been kissed before," she blushed a little, "and need to learn such things slowly." She looked up at him, seeing from his face that he understood. His hand touched her face, and he leaned down to gently brush her bruised lips with his own.

  “I understand, my dear.” His face softened as he gazed at her. “Please, I beg your forgiveness.”

  “It is given, of course,” she responded, tucking her hand under his arm, walking together back towards the house.

  The rest of the party had made their way to the waiting carriages and had clearly been waiting for their return.

  “I must fetch a few pins from my room,” Eliza said, her cheeks heating as she saw the knowing glances. “Pray, go on ahead. I can see that Mama and Lady Bessington have not yet come to join us, I shall go in their carriage.”

  “You are certain?” John replied, turning to face her. “I am happy to wait for you.”

  "Please, don't trouble yourself," Eliza replied, needing some time apart from Lord Stockton to sort out the muddle of feelings going on inside. "I shall see you at the picnic." Acquiescing, John bowed over her hand, assuring her he would ask her mother to wait, before making his way toward one of the waiting carriages.

  Eliza stared at herself in the mirror, barely recognizing her own reflection. Her lips were swollen. and her cheeks patched with red. Her hair was untidy, her bonnet hanging uselessly down her back. Was this what a woman in love was supposed to look like? Pulling the remaining pins from her hair, she brushed her hair quickly, braiding it and then pinning the braid in a tight coil. It was simple, but it was neat. Replacing her bonnet, she made her way back to the entrance.

  There were no carriages waiting for her, no smiling face of her mother beckoning her to join them. John had promised he would ask them to remain for her, and either he had forgotten, or her mother had left without her. She closed her eyes in frustration, trying to stop the threatening tears. She had cried too much of late. Her eyes turned to the woods. There was little chance of Phillip’s presence, but she needed a place to be alone, away from the prying eyes of the servants.

  Anthony was surprised at how much he’d missed Eliza that morning. Although he had waited for her a good length of time, it had become apparent that she wouldn’t be joining him and, by then, he’d hadn’t felt like taking a walk alone.

  He’d spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about her, although he tried to convince himself that it was merely an attempt to find a way out of her situation, and not an appreciation
of her beautiful eyes and long, blonde hair. Since then, he’d spent the day closeted in his study, as usual, hearing the voices and laughter of his mother’s house guests all around him. The butler had told him that they’d be leaving for a picnic in the early afternoon and wouldn’t be returning until much later. Anthony had breathed a long sigh of relief.

  7

  On hearing the carriages begin to roll away, Anthony had wandered to the window, enjoying the view of the departing guests. Only a few moments later, a solitary figure had caught his eye, slowly walking towards the entrance to the woods. With surprise, he realized that it was Eliza. Why was she alone? From her dress, he guessed that it had been unintentional, which beggared the question, how had she managed to be left behind?

  Ripping his cravat from his neck, he shrugged out of his coat and unbuttoned a few shirt buttons. His boots were polished to a high shine and, with a growl of frustration, he ran the length of the hall to his room, quickly changing into the dull, mud-covered boots of his gardener disguise. Throwing open the front door, he walked quickly towards the wood, hoping that Eliza had not chosen to turn back. He wanted to find out if she had come up with any solution to her current predicament, he told himself, that was why he was chasing her with such fervor.

  Shaking his head, he acknowledged the truth. He was attracted to the lady. She built such a fire in him that he didn't think it could ever be put out. Why then was he donning his gardener persona instead of revealing who he truly was?

  Having no time to consider his question, he entered the woods only a few yards behind Eliza, catching up with her quickly.

  “Miss?”

  “Oh!” came her startled response. “Phillip, I had not expected to see you.” Anthony hated to see sadness on her face once again, wishing he could take the hurt away.

  "I saw you enter the woods," he replied, trying to catch his breath. "I did not wish you to get lost." It was a poor excuse, but one he hoped she would accept without question.

  Eliza, whilst pleased to see Phillip, began to walk again without any further conversation. Everything felt in such confusion, her own heart included. John had both frightened and hurt her with his words and his actions. Lord Penn would not leave her alone. Sophie apparently had a penchant for John. What was she to do?

  Anthony was nonplussed for a moment, at Eliza’s lack of conversation. He had hoped she would be glad to see him again, but it appeared she was lost in her thoughts. With nothing else to do, he walked alongside her for a time, then a few steps behind. Every time he thought about asking her what troubled her or why she had not gone with the others on the picnic, the words failed him. He couldn’t get his mouth unstuck.

  “Phillip,” Eliza began, looking back at him for a moment. “Might you take me to the place we sat at before?”

  “Certainly,” Anthony replied, wanting to do anything he could for her. “This way, ma’am.”

  Following the gardener, Eliza fell into a deep despair. She felt as though she were a puppet in a play, being dragged here and there by some master puppeteer. Sitting heavily on the tree stump, she put her face in her hands and sobbed.

  She didn’t know how long she cried for, allowing her emotions full sway. At some point, she felt Phillip’s arms around her, pulling her to his chest and letting her cry all over him, soaking part of his shirt with her tears. Eventually, her weeping fit passed, leaving her feeling completely empty.

  “Can you tell me what it is that’s troubling you?” Phillip asked her quietly.

  Saying nothing, Eliza continued to lean against him, drawing from his strength. How strange it was to find comfort in the arms of a gardener. She sat up, still sniffing now and again, but giving him a watery smile. She shivered, whether from the cold or her emotions she wasn’t quite sure. Anthony frowned, half wishing he’d brought his own coat.

  “I’ll make a fire, shall I?”

  "Yes, that would be wonderful. The earl won't mind?"

  Anthony shook his head, remembering that he was still Phillip in her eyes. “No, I shouldn’t think so. I often set a small bonfire here.” Showing her the place where he kept his flints, Anthony set about making a small fire to warm her chilled bones. Soon it was crackling merrily, the warmth bringing a smile to Eliza’s face.

  “So,” Anthony began, hoping his questions did not cause Eliza to break down in tears once more. “Why are you here all alone? I was certain I saw the other guests depart.”

  A little anger flared up inside Eliza as she was reminded of her situation. "Lord Stockton was to ask Mama to wait for me as I had to fix my hair, but when I returned from my room, there was no one in sight.” Her mouth drew into a thin line as she thought of John and his behavior towards her.

  “Ah,” Anthony replied, wondering whether it had a deliberate oversight. “What happened to your hair?”

  Eliza blushed, smoothing her skirt to avoid answering the question. “It became a little mussed, that is all.”

  There was more to her answer than met the eye, and it had not fooled Anthony one bit. “I see,” he replied, a sarcastic edge to his words. “I suppose Lord Stockton must steal your kisses when he can.” The thought of Lord Stockton kissing Eliza made him inordinately irate.

  “It wasn’t like that,” Eliza replied, her own voice rising. “I do not behave in such a way with him.”

  “No?” Anthony’s eyebrows rose. “Why else did you need to fix your hair?”

  “He frightened me!” Eliza cried, leaping to her feet. Her words echoed around the woods, as she instantly felt a flush of embarrassment over what she had revealed to Phillip. Why did his opinion of her matter so much? She sank back down onto the tree stump, unable to look at him again. What must he think of her?

  Anthony stared at Eliza, dumbfounded. The poor woman. Not only had she Lord Penn breathing down her neck, apparently, Lord Stockton had been pressing his attentions on her as well, quite firmly it appeared. He got to his feet, walking back and forth, trying to rid himself of some of the growing anger he felt towards Lord Stockton.

  “I hope you do not think less of me,” he heard Eliza whisper. In a moment, he was by her side, kneeling so he could look into her face.

  “Of course I do not think less of you, Miss Williams,” he replied, remembering at the last moment that he was meant to be Phillip.

  Eliza looked at him, taking in both his concerned face and his brilliant blue eyes. She wanted Phillip to think well of her, even though he was a mere servant in the earl’s household. She was perfectly aware that it did not make sense but, in that moment, she did not care.

  “I do wish you would call me Eliza,” she found herself saying. “I feel as though we are dear friends already.”

  Anthony smiled at her, her beauty taking his breath away. “I should very much like that, Eliza.” He patted her hand for a moment. “What did Lord Stockton do that frightened you so?”

  “He was just very persistent,” Eliza replied, tears pricking the corner of her eyes. “He was a little forceful, but I know I did not respond as I ought.” She was surprised to see a frown mar Phillip’s handsome face. “Oh, did I say something wrong?”

  “No,” he answered. “No, Eliza, not at all.” Her name tasted like honey on his tongue. “It is your Lord Stockton who is in the wrong; he should not have used his strength against a gentle lady like yourself.”

  Eliza sighed. “He is not ‘my’ Lord Stockton, Phillip. He wishes me to be, and for a long time, I have thought it my dearest wish. Now I am not as certain as I once was.”

  Trying to keep the grin from his face, Anthony continued to hold her hand, not wanting to break the spell that was keeping them bound to each other.

  “Do you love him?” he asked, presently.

  Eliza turned her face to him. “I am not sure what love is, if I am honest. Do I sound ridiculous? You are laughing at me!”

  Anthony couldn’t keep the smile from his face. “I am not laughing, my dear, Eliza. Tis only that I believe you would know for sure, were
you in love with him.”

  “Truly?” Eliza asked, her eyes searching his face. “Do you truly think so?”

  Anthony found he could barely breathe as he looked into Eliza’s face. If he mistook her feelings, then this could all end in disaster, but he was determined to try.

  “Eliza,” he began quietly, pulling her up to stand in front of him. “If you were truly in love with someone, then you would feel something for him.”

  “But I do, Phillip, I do,” Eliza interjected. “I care for him. I respect him. I…”

  “I am not speaking of that,” Anthony continued, briskly. “More than just care or respect. Those are important, of course, but what he makes you feel when you see him.”

  He saw the incomprehension on Eliza’s face and decided to use something other than words to make her understand. He took a step towards her, slipping his hands around her waist. Eliza made no protest.

  “It is something almost too hard to explain. It is butterflies; it is a feeling of being lighter than air, a desire to touch their skin or hold their hand.” He lifted one of his hands to her face and tipped her chin up gently. “Do you feel it?”

  Eliza couldn't catch her breath; such was her reaction to his presence. The touch of his hand set her body aflame, and a blush touched her cheeks as she struggled to hide her response. She knew that she felt nothing like this when John was near her. He did not make her pulse race or her skin tingle. It was only with Phillip. What was happening to her?

  "Don't fight it," she heard him whisper, lowering his head to lean against her own. "This is the magic that you are looking for, to know if you are truly on the path to love."

  Eliza tried to speak but could only make a strangled sound, closing her eyes as she raised her arms and placed them around his neck, her fingers toying with his hair. She heard him inhale sharply, pulling her tight against him. John had done the same, and she had fought him, but with Phillip, she wanted him never to let her go.