Enamored with a
Brooding Earl
PREVIEW
Chapter One
The winds whipped the ocean waves, causing them to break with even greater fierceness. Temperance paused for a moment, her hand still holding tight to the paintbrush before she swept it across the canvas.
My heart is like the waves. Unsettled and never finding stillness.
Tears came to her eyes and one dripped to her cheek. Hastily, Temperance wiped it away, only for her fingers to trace the scar there.
Shame burned through her and she closed her eyes, swallowing hard as she shook her head to herself. It had been two years since that dreadful day, two years since she had not only been broken in body but also in spirit. Two years since she had felt any sort of happiness.
Blinking back her tears, Temperance took in a long, steadying breath and once more, looked out at the tempestuous waves. The artwork was beginning to take shape, the waves and the shore clearly depicted but yet, she was still not contented with it. There was so much more she had to do, so many fine details she had to paint in. There was the froth of the waves as they crashed against the coastal cliffs, the fury of the wind as it whipped up the sea and the shadows of the gulls as they flew overhead. She wanted to capture all of it. Every single last moment. It was the only way she could forget about her past, the only way she could set aside all of her pain and her sorrow. Focusing solely on her artwork, thinking only about the scene before her, that was the only course she had for a little relief.
“Do come and sit down for a while, my dear.”
Temperance turned to see her aunt smiling gently at her from the door of the parlor.
“I have a tea tray set out for us in the drawing room. Will you not come and sit with me for even a few minutes?” Lady Hartford offered Temperance a small, slightly wry smile. “I have received a letter from your mother and she did beg of me to speak of some things with you.”
Temperance’s stomach twisted. “I have not quite yet finished my painting, Aunt.”
“But you will stand there and paint until it is too dark for you to see the scene before you and by that time, it will be too late for tea,” came the reply, though Temperance could tell that her aunt was doing her best to encourage her away from what she was doing simply because she wished her to take a little rest, rather than because of the hour. Aunt Matilda had always been very concerned and considerate when it came to Temperance and though she was grateful for that, Temperance wished that, on occasions such as this, she would leave her to paint rather than encourage her to take tea instead. Taking tea would mean conversation and discussion about her present situation and Temperance did not want that.
“Please, Temperance.”
The softness of her aunt’s voice made Temperance’s heart squeeze. “Very well, Aunt.”
Lady Matilda smiled. “I thank you. The tea will warm your hands, I am sure. This parlor is rather cold today. I will have a fire set for you and then when you return, the room will be a little warmer.”
“By then, I fear that the sky will have darkened and I will not be able to paint.”
Her aunt laughed softly. “My dear girl, it is only mid-morning! You will have plenty of time to paint today. I will have the maid set the fire so it is a little warmer for you. Now please, do come and sit down. You need to take a short respite, I am sure.”
Temperance followed her aunt through, pausing only for a moment as her aunt instructed a maid to set a fire in the parlor for Temperance’s return. Once seated in the drawing room, she accepted the cup of tea from her aunt and settled back a little more into her chair. Her body softened, a few aches in her neck and back becoming a little more prominent and she let out a slow breath.
Perhaps I did need this.
“You said you had a letter from my mother?” Temperance asked, seeing Lady Hartford nod. It was not something that she wished to discuss but, knowing that her aunt wanted to say something to her about it, Temperance considered it was best to bring it to the fore rather than hide it away. “What is it that she wishes you to say to me?”
Her aunt set down her tea cup and then reached for a letter which was sitting quietly on the table beside her. “Do you wish to read it yourself?”
Temperance shook her head. “No, I thank you.”
“There is nothing personal within it. But given that she writes a letter to you every sennight, I suppose that there is nothing written within this that she has not already said to you.” Her aunt offered her a small, wry smile. “Aside from the grave concern that she is expressing about your continued residence here.”
Temperance’s eyebrows lifted. “My mother does not wish me to reside here with you any longer? For what purpose?”
Her aunt let out a small sigh. “It is not that she does not want you to reside here, Temperance. It is only that she is concerned about your absence from London.”
Temperance closed her eyes, her heart dropping low. “She wants me to return to society?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“But why?” Opening her eyes, Temperance shook her head. “There is no purpose in my return to society! It is not as though any gentleman will look at me – will look at my scarred face – and consider me worthy of courtship!” Seeing the way her aunt’s gaze darted away, Temperance closed her eyes again. “She wants me to make a match, does she not?”
Lady Hartford nodded just as Temperance opened her eyes. “Yes, I believe that that is her desire for you.”
Temperance took a sip of her tea, trying to calm the upset which grew up within her. “My mother is thinking foolishly. I cannot make a good match! It has been two Seasons since I was last in society and it is not as though my face has changed in any way. If anything, despite the doctor’s best efforts, my scar remains just as prominent as it has always been.”
“That is not so.” Lady Hartford smiled encouragingly but Temperance did not even permit it to enter her heart. She knew all too well the long, jagged scar which ran from the side of her eye all the way to her jawline. She saw it every time she glanced at herself in the looking glass. Her lady’s maid had, at times, attempted to conceal it by permitting some of Temperance’s golden tresses to fall lightly to one side of her face but even that had not hidden it completely. Temperance was certain a return to London and to society would only make her the topic of every conversation and, what was worse, no gentleman would even so much as glance at her for a second time.
“Your sisters are both married and settled,” her aunt murmured, gently. “It is only right that your mother should now consider you.”
“My sisters both have perfect complexions, Aunt.” A seed of bitterness entered into Temperance’s heart. Her sisters had cared very little about what had happened to Temperance, seemingly to be nothing but relieved that they had been spared such a thing. They had barely spoken to Temperance as she had recovered from the accident and in the two years that Temperance had lived here with her aunt and uncle, neither of them had written to her to see how she fared. The only way Temperance had heard of their marriage was through a letter from her mother. She had not even been invited to their weddings. Evidently, her sisters had not wanted to have their beautiful ceremonies spoiled by her presence.
“You must not let your injury – and the scar which lingers – define who you are. And certainly you must not let yourself believe that every gentleman in London will look at you and see only your scar!” Lady Hartford leaned forward in her chair, a gentle gleam of encouragement in her eye but Temperance only shook her head. “Come now, Temperance,” Lady Hartford continued, gently. “You are intelligent, talented – your paintings are beautiful – and you have excellent conversation, poise and elegance. Your heart is compassionate and kind. There is more to you than your outward appearance, is there not? And the right gentleman will see that.”
“I do not think I can believe that, Aunt.” Temperance sipped her tea so that she could hide her tears from her aunt. In the last two years, she had done nothing but consider what had happened at the time of her accident and, thereafter, considered just how bleak her future might be.
“Do not think that every gentleman is like Edmund, Temperance.”
A harsh note entered her aunt’s voice and, a little surprised, Temperance blinked back her tears as she looked to the lady. Lady Hartford was scowling, a shadow flickering over her expression as she looked away from Temperance and to the window instead.
“I fear, Aunt, that most – if not every – gentleman in London is like Edmund,” Temperance admitted, in a half whisper. Edmund, the Marquess of Barlington, had been her betrothed at one time. He had declared his devotion to her, had stated how much he adored her and how much joy there was waiting for them and Temperance had believed every word. In fact, she had been swept away by him, overcome with hope and excitement as to what their future as man and wife would be – and then the accident had happened. They had been out riding with some other friends and acquaintances at his estate, when her horse had shied suddenly. Temperance had been thrown from it, pain lacing through her body and her head – and her face also. She had been injured, yes, but those injuries had healed. It was the scars they had left behind which had pushed Edmund away.
Her eyes closed, a slight tremble running through her. The moment Edmund had told her that their engagement had come to an end, she had felt her world shrink. He had not been able to look at her, had not been able to keep her gaze and that had told her everything she had needed to know about him. The gentleman was a coward, yes, but he had broken her heart regardless. Too late, she had realized that there was nothing genuine about his supposed affections. He had been nothing but a fraud, pretending that he felt more than he truly did and she had accepted every word from him as truth.
Darkness had overtaken her, then, and even now, it had not left her. She was torn apart, broken by his betrayal, shunned by the injuries she had endured. Her beauty was marred, her heart shattered and all that had been left for her was to retreat.
“You will not return to London, then? You will not go back to society for the Season?”
Her aunt’s quiet question whispered to Temperance and she quickly shook her head, blinking back the tears which returned to her all too quickly.
“I do not think I can, Aunt,” she whispered, honestly. “It is already too much for me even to think of it.”
Lady Hartford smiled and nodded gently. “I understand,” she said, softly. “I will write to your mother and tell her that we have spoken of it. That will satisfy her, I am sure.”
Temperance managed a slightly wobbly smile but then excused herself to go back to her painting. The room was already a little warmer thanks to the fire which had been lit but Temperance’s turbulent emotions were more unsettled than ever. She picked up her paintbrush, ready to begin again, but her vision was quickly blurred with tears. Temperance sniffed and closed her eyes tightly to press them back but they refused to listen and instead, continued to come. Setting her paintbrush down, Temperance dropped her head and let the tears fall. There was still so much pain within her heart, a pain which never seemed to fade or disappear. It was all she could do to bear it.
Chapter Two
“I am certainly not disappointed that we did not stay in London this Season, not when I can smell the sea air from here!”
James glanced to his mother and permitted himself a small smile though, inwardly, his heart ached heavier still as the very same scent which brought his mother such comfort brought himself a good deal of trouble.
“It is a wonderful place,” his mother continued, speaking as though she were alone in the carriage. “It has been too long since we were able to return here.”
James let out a slow breath. “I am sorry it has taken so long,” he answered, seeing his mother look to him directly. “There has been much to do since… well, since the sorrows which have broken our hearts.”
Lady Calverton reached across and touched his hand. “You know that I do not blame you for your brother’s death.”
A shake of his head was James’ only answer.
“He was not as he ought to be,” Lady Calverton continued, her voice wobbling a little as James turned his head to look out of the window, aware of his own emotions rising steadily. “He should have taken on the title with decorum and with a seriousness which he did not possess. I am broken-hearted over his passing but I am not about to pretend that he was everything that he ought to be.”
“I should have been here,” James muttered, shaking his head. “The Great Adventure was not something I was required to take on. It was something I chose to do.”
“It is something that many a gentleman takes on, however, and you had every right to go and explore this world, just as you pleased! You were the second born, you were not the one who was to bear any great responsibility. Your father was pleased that you were to go to other countries, just as he himself had done.”
“I missed his passing, however,” James answered, his heart aching all over again. “And by the time news reached me of the funeral, Simon had already taken on the title and had not even considered the mourning period! I returned home to find him in such a degenerate state, he could not be saved from it. Had I been in England, had I been present at the time of father’s passing, I might have been able to do something to protect him from such a path.”
Again, his mother reached across to take his hand, though this time, she held on a little longer. James was forced to turn to look at her, seeing the tears glistening in her eyes but also the tightness about her jaw.
“You did nothing wrong in behaving as you did,” she said, firmly. “Your brother chose to go to that gambling den. He chose to place a bet with coin he did not have. He chose to take on a foolish fight when he was already heavily in his cups. His death might not have occurred had he not chosen to do all those things but when we consider what happened, we have no choice but to place the guilt solely upon his own shoulders.”
James shook his head. “It was such a waste, was it not?”
“The money he threw away?”
Holding his mother’s gaze, James’ heart turned over in his chest, guilt still rattling around him. “His life, Mama. I mean that he threw away his life because he was chasing pleasure rather than responsibility. I do not think that such a choice was worth it.”
A small, sad smile came over his mother’s face. “No, it certainly was not. No amount of money is worth one’s life. But your brother would not listen. I tried to reason with him but he refused to listen to me. I can promise you that, had you been in England, he would not have listened to you either.”
“Ah, but I could have tried,” James muttered, closing his eyes and pulling his hand away from his mother’s. “That might have assuaged my guilt just a little.”
“It is guilt that you do not have to bear,” she said, firmly. “Release the burden from your shoulders, my son. We have enough pain to deal with already.”
When James opened his eyes, he saw the smile on his mother’s face, though he did not understand it.
“You must know how proud I am of you,” she said, when James’ frown grew heavier. “You are a gentleman who has done nothing but shoulder the responsibility that you were never meant to have. Your brother almost ruined us but you have brought us back to respectability. I know how hard you have worked to regain our fortune. I know how much you have taken on, the decisions you have had to make, the struggle that the last few years have been. But we are now returning to the smaller estate by the shoreline, an estate which we feared we would have to sell, but instead, we are now returning there for a short respite.”
“It is to be your Dower house, mother,” James reminded her, seeing the smile that spread right across her face, sending light into her eyes. “I would have done anything required of me to keep it for you. I know how much you adore this place.”
Lady Calverton pressed his hand tightly one more time, then released it as she sat back up into her seat. “My dear son, you bring joy to my weary heart.” She tilted her head. “But you like this place also, do you not? The curl of the waves on the sea, the wind which runs wildly through the trees?”
“The howling gales and the torrential rain?” James added, a little wryly as his mother laughed. “I am not certain that I shall appreciate such things as that.”
“Though there are many memories of such things, I know,” came the reply as James nodded, his smile fading. “We came here many a time when you and your brother were boys. I have always been fond of it. Besides which, I believe that it is very good for one’s health and perhaps now, more than ever, we need to have such a respite!”
James nodded but did not smile, turning his head to look out of the carriage window again. The carriage turned into the long, gravel drive but before it could go any further, James reached up and rapped on the roof.
“I think I shall walk for a short while before I return to the house,” he explained, as the door was opened for him. “I have been sitting in this carriage for much too long and require a little fresh air. Will you be quite all right by yourself?”
His mother nodded, not questioning what it was that he desired to do. “I shall be perfectly contented. I intend to take tea in the parlor and look out across the estate towards the sea.”
James smiled briefly, nodded and then stepped outside. Giving the driver the instruction to take his mother and all their other belongings to the manor house, he turned and strode away from the carriage, making his way out of the driveway and instead, along the path to the side of the estate. Many a time he and his brother had walked along this path as boys, many a time had they escaped together from whatever his father had been intending for them to do. He knew exactly where it led and, all these years later, the path itself was still intact. It led him through the moorland, moorland which was damp under his feet, until he came to the top of the cliffs.
It was there that James paused, his hands going to his hips, his face turned to the wind as he looked out across the waves. The spray of the sea blew up towards him, coating his skin but James made no effort to wipe it away. Here, at least, he felt as though the wind were blowing away some of the heaviness which had clung to his soul for the last few years. Here, he did not have to think about his bills, about his income, about the crops and the many debts he had still to pay. Here, he could be free of all of that for a time.
This last year, his stocks had done marvelously well and, thus he had been able to pay off the last of his brother’s debts. It meant that he had very little to put into the rest of his business, but it was enough to know that there was nothing else required to be repaid. He had succeeded in keeping the dower house and his own estate – albeit in the knowledge that some improvements would soon be required – and that had been a great blessing to his mind. For the first time in some years, he was going to permit himself to do nothing as regarded his estate and business affairs. He was going to take some time to walk through the moors, to walk along the shoreline, to let himself feel a freedom which had evaded him for some time.
I am sorry I did not come back in time to stop you, Simon.
James dropped his head, the guilt which had forever plagued him returning back again with force. It did not matter what his mother had said, it did not matter what she had tried to encourage him with, he still felt responsible for his absence. If he had been present, then Simon might never have fallen as far as he had done – and his death might never have come about. He would be the Earl of Calverton and James would have his own position under that but now, James himself had the responsibility to the estate and to his mother. A responsibility that he had never been meant to have.
“But I will do my utmost to keep our name and the family title respectable,” he muttered, as the wind chased the words away as soon as they had been spoken. The shame which Simon had brought to them all had been great but James was determined to restore it.
Though that means that I must find a suitable match.
Scowling, James shook his head to himself, turning away as he walked back along the path towards his estate. He had eschewed the thought of making his way to London for the Season. He did not have enough of a fortune to consider matrimony, not as yet, and, were he honest, the thought of stepping back into a society who would still look at him and whisper about all that his brother had done was not a pleasant one. No, for the moment, James would keep his thoughts away from such things. When the time was right, then he would force himself back to society but for the moment, his place was here. Here, in the wind and by the waves; a place where he might be free.
Chapter Three
Temperance hummed quietly to herself as she made her way down the familiar path from the estate to the cliffs. Her uncle, Lord Hartford, had taken great care to show her the way when she had first arrived at the estate, telling her that he often found great solace there and thinking that she might find the same.
How right he had been.
She smiled to herself, thinking of her uncle and wondering when he might return from the continent. He had been gone some months now, though his letters assured both herself and her aunt that all was well – and that his interests abroad were doing very well indeed. Both he and her aunt had encouraged her love of sketching, drawing and painting in a way that no-one else ever had, insisting that she purchase whatever she required and with her uncle firm in his resolve that he would pay for it. How grateful she was to them both for the love they had shown her, as well as their gentle understanding. It was clear to Temperance that her own parents – her mother especially – did not seem to understand just how much sorrow and pain she still bore from her scar. Her mother’s urging to return to London had been difficult for Temperance to hear. Did her mother not realize what society would think of Temperance and her outward appearance? Did she not see that there would be nothing but whispers and rumors flying around the ton about her? Was she truly so desperate for Temperance to marry that she would force her back into London society?
She cannot force me, Temperance told herself, aware of the slight trembling which ran through her. I will not go, no matter how hard she tries.
A little breathless from the quick walk she had taken, Temperance paused at her favorite spot, catching her breath and looking out towards the sea. She stood at the lowest point of the cliffs, the shore beneath her, though her uncle had warned her never to climb down to the shore from this part. Instead, there was a path a little further along the way which Temperance took sometimes. But not today. Smiling to herself, Temperance sat down on a large rock which, she sometimes thought, had been placed there by God himself, knowing that she would one day use it to sit on so she might draw, and took out her paper and pencil.
Her eyes searched the horizon, taking everything in and then, she let herself begin to draw freely. There was a darkness to the sea today which caught her attention. Some parts danced with light as the sunshine bounced from the tops of the waves and the breakers, whereas most of it held a strength of deep color which she could not help but take note of. She sketched quickly and carefully, already eager to return home and begin to paint this very scene. She wanted to remember all of it, wanted to take in every part and thus, she made every single press of her pencil with great care and precision. Her lips pressed tight together as she gave all of her concentration to her sketch, hearing the cry of the wheeling gulls above her head, mixing together with the crash of the waves beneath. The sketch quickly came together and Temperance offered it a small smile. She was pleased with what she had captured, all too aware of how quickly the landscape could change and just how much of it she could miss if she was not hasty enough.
Rising to her feet, Temperance placed her pencil back in her pocket, ready to return to the house and begin painting, only for a sudden gust of wind to snatch the paper from her hand.
“No!” Temperance rushed after her paper, her heart pounding furiously. Already, the sky and the sea had changed and if she were to lose that paper, she would not be able to keep a hold of the scene in her mind for long enough to paint it. The wind teased her, pulling the paper away from her grasping fingers and then letting it fall again, letting it settle on the grass for only a few moments before tugging it away again. Temperance stumbled a little, her mouth going dry as she thought of the paper being pulled into the sea, losing it forever. Her art was her only passion, the only thing which made her heart sing and her spirits lift. Others might say that it was only a sketch but to Temperance, it was of great importance.
“Please!” she cried aloud, as though the wind might listen to her and stop what it was doing. Instead, it ignored her cries, pulling the paper down over the edge of the cliff and down towards the shore. Her heart in her throat, Temperance made her way to the edge, looking down helplessly, watching as the paper dropped lower and lower… only to snag against a piece of driftwood which stuck out from between the rocks and stones which lined the top of the shore.
She hesitated.
The path which led down to the shore was much further along the cliffs and if she were to take that, if she were to make her way there and, thereafter, hurry back towards the paper, then she had very little hope of finding it again. The wind, in all its mischief, would have taken it away from her again and, no doubt, flung it onto the soggy sand or the sea itself and then what would she do?
Temperance swallowed tightly, then began to descend. This was the lowest part of the cliff face but all the same, it was not as though there was a simple path for her to follow. Instead, there were jagged rocks, sometimes hidden by the outcrops of earth and green grass which she stepped onto cautiously. Thereafter, large boulders greeted her, smaller rocks in between them and, once she had climbed over them, smaller stones and even pebbles which slipped beneath her feet.
Temperance let out a gasp of fright as she wheeled back, her arms spread wide, her hands reaching for something – anything to find. There were a few feet of a somewhat steep descent still to make and if she were to fall…
“Ho! You there! Whatever do you think you are doing?”
Temperance started in fright, having never once expected to hear someone else shouting through the wind. She could not even turn her head, ending up falling back and sitting down heavily rather than falling forward. Her body cried out in pain, her skirts putting only a little softness between her skin and the rocks, though she did not let a single sound come out of her mouth.
My sketch!
“Whatever are you doing?” the voice said again – but Temperance ignored it. Rising to her feet, she kept her attention fixed to her sketch. The driftwood still held it fast, though the edges fluttered in the ever-present wind. With urgent feet – but feet which still slipped across the stones and pebbles – Temperance made for it, her worry pushing her into a faster pace than she ought otherwise to have gone. With a cry of relief, she caught up her sketch, holding it fast, only for her feet to slip again. Letting out a cry, she half fell, half ran down the remaining stones to the shore. She did not think she could stop, her eyes wide, the wind whipping at her hair and her skin… and then something solid stopped her.
“Ho, there!”
Her breath ran out of her body as she blinked furiously, only to look to make quite certain that her sketch was safe in her hands. Sagging with relief, Temperance closed her eyes, only to then realize that whatever had stopped her was still very much present.
“Are you quite all right?”
A flare of fright rushed up Temperance’s spine and she quickly turned her head away, hiding her scarred cheek from this somewhat imposing gentleman. “Yes, I thank you.” Her voice was quiet but she focused on folding her sketch back into her book. “The wind stole something from me and it was imperative I found it again. I was afraid it would be taken to the sea.”
“You ought not to have climbed down that way,” came the reply and this time, Temperance dared a glance at her unexpected companion. Her stomach twisted, her heart pounding rather furiously as she looked into the gentleman’s face and saw the deep frown which settled across his forehead. There was a rather serious expression etched there, his hazel eyes fixed and firm as they looked back at her, dark hair over his forehead though his hat, despite the wind, remained quite steady. Temperance looked away again, taking a step away from him.
“As I have said, I was afraid that it would be taken to the sea and I would have lost it forever,” she answered, afraid now that this fellow might be someone nefarious and all too aware that she was standing alone with him on the otherwise deserted beach. “I thank you for your help.”
Much to her surprise, the fellow took off his hat and, just as any gentleman of the ton might, bowed very low indeed.
“But of course. I am only glad that you did not fall and hurt yourself! I presume whatever you took back from the wind is now safely secured?”
Temperance nodded, making sure to keep her scarred side of her face away from him. “I have. “
“Very good. Then might I escort you back?” He offered her his arm but Temperance quickly shook her head. This fellow, whoever he was, was certainly dressed as a gentleman but that did not mean that he truly was one. She did not know his name and certainly could not guess at his motivation and thus, refrained from accepting his company.
“I am well able to make my way back to my aunt’s house alone, I thank you.” She took another step back. “I have lived here for a long time and am well acquainted with the path.”
“Then I am surprised you did not take it as you came down,” he said, not offering her a single hint of a smile. “Did you say that your aunt’s house is nearby?”
“I did not but yes, it is,” Temperance answered, making another step away from him. “Lord and Lady Hartford?” She lifted her chin, thinking to herself that to mention the name of the Viscount Hartford would mean something to this fellow. Mayhap he would be more cautious in approaching her if he knew that she was highly connected. Much to her surprise, however, the gentleman’s expression cleared and he smiled, suddenly.
His expression transformed. Instead of a frown sending shadows into his eyes, there was a brightness there which filled his entire expression. His hazel eyes seemed a good deal more vivid and even his cheeks seemed to fill with a little more color.
“Ah, how wonderful! I am very glad to hear that the Viscount and Lady Hartford are still present here.” He bowed suddenly, then stepped closer to her. “Did you say she was your aunt? Then you must tell them both how eager I am to see them again – my mother will be eager for a reunion also! It has been some years since we have been able to return to the manor house here but now that we have come back, I am hopeful that previous connections can be reestablished.”
Temperance blinked in surprise, though she still did not turn fully towards him. The moment she did so, Temperance was certain that shock would replace the evident happiness in the gentleman’s expression and nothing but mortification would fill her. “My uncle is away on business in the continent,” she said slowly, as the gentleman nodded. “My aunt is still at home, however. Might I ask as to whom I should say is eager to speak with her again?”
The gentleman dashed one hand over his forehead. “But of course. Forgive me, I have not yet introduced myself. Goodness, I am not as improper as I appear, I promise you!” He smiled again, then inclined his head one more time. “The Earl of Calverton. My mother is Lady Calverton, and I am certain she will be utterly delighted to see Lady Hartford again. It will mean a great deal to her.”
“I – I am glad to hear it.” A little uncertain as to what to say, Temperance dropped her head, keeping her gaze on the book of sketches she had in her hand.
“Are you certain I cannot escort you?” he asked, as Temperance quickly shook her head. “The path is rather far away and – ”
“I have walked this way many times,” Temperance told him, relieved now that she could take her leave of him. “Do excuse me, Lord Calverton. I will, of course, pass on your words of greeting to my aunt.”
“And I will tell my mother of Lady Hartford’s presence also,” came the reply. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss…” A frown flickered across his forehead, stealing his smile away. “I realise now that I do not yet know your title, my lady. Might I ask for it?”
Letting out a slow sigh as urgency pushed her away from him, Temperance forced a small smile. “Lady Temperance, my lord. My father is the Duke of Danfield.”
Lord Calverton blinked. “I see.”
He did not smile and Temperance flushed hot, despite the chill in the wind. Did he know of what had happened to her? Had her name brought about a flash of understanding as he recalled whom she had once been engaged to?
“I should return now,” she murmured, making her way back towards the path which led a winding way up the cliffs. “Do excuse me, Lord Calverton.”
“Good afternoon, Lady Temperance.”
Temperance scurried away as fast as she dared, without making it appear as though she were hurrying away from him. Her face grew hotter still as she wondered if he were watching her, afraid now that he would be gazing after her with the realization as to why she had hidden her face from him. Making her way to the path, Temperance paused for a moment to catch her breath, all thoughts of her sketch and her upcoming painting now gone from her. That had been a most unexpected meeting and, all of a sudden, she felt herself unsettled and filled with concern rather than the quiet happiness which had filled her as she had sketched. A good deal more slowly now, Temperance made her way up the cliff path, daring a glance back over her shoulder as she climbed. Lord Calverton was still walking along the shoreline, though away from her rather than coming back towards the path. Feeling a little more secure now, Temperance slowed her steps even more, considering him and their strange introduction. He appeared to be a somewhat serious gentleman given his demeanor and his expression, though that had lifted for a few moments when he had learned who her aunt was.
I do not think that I will be often in his company, she thought to herself, comforted by the thought. His mother can visit my aunt and I am certain that my presence will not be required. Nodding to herself, Temperance made her way back along the top of the cliffs towards the house, doing her best to turn her thoughts towards her sketch rather than Lord Calverton. Her breathing still quickened from her ascent and her walk back towards the house, Temperance shook her head hard, for no other reason than to clear that gentleman out of her mind. By the time she had arrived home, however, she had still not succeeded.
Let me know your thoughts!
I’m glad that you finished reading the preview of “Enamored with a Brooding Earl”. It will be on Amazon very soon!
This Post Has 5 Comments
Can’t wait!
Can’t wait to read this book!!!
I would like to finifsh the book
I loved it so far! Can’t wait!!!
A very nice introduction to the characters. The people as well as the environment. I look forward to reading the book.