Page 17 of A Gifted Earl

Chapter Six

After the dreadful dance with Lord Blatherfort, Venetia stayed close to her mother and the group of other less popular young ladies and their mothers, glad that she had not been asked to dance the next dance, or the one after. The idea of dancing, if each dance might lead to being so tastelessly propositioned, had become far less appealing. Instead, she simply watched others, scanning the room, attempting to remember everyone’s names, and studying the interactions between gentlemen and ladies.

Across the room, movement caught her eye. A group of mostly younger gentlemen stood talking, and they had just been joined by another. It seemed as if they were looking in her direction – but why would they? Then, as they moved a little, she caught a better view of the newcomer to their group and a little shiver of surprise ran through her.

It was him – Lord Templewick – the man she had noticed at a previous Ball. The man whose face seemed so like the face in her dreams…

She wanted, then, to find a way to go to him, to speak to him, to discover if there was any connection, any reason for him to seem so familiar, so like the man she half remembered, after her fall.

She shook her head, and turned her eyes away.

There could be no link between an Earl and a groom – she was simply indulging in wishful thinking, driven by her desire to meet the man who had done his best by her injury, and thank him for trying.

*****

It was late, and Venetia yawned inelegantly. Her mother shook her head.

“We should stop this conversation and go to bed. I think that we have a clear plan for the next week or so. There are so many events to attend… surely, at one of them, you will meet a man who is not instantly judgemental.”

Venetia gave a grim smile.

“I am beginning to doubt that there are any gentlemen of that nature amongst the ton. But you are right – further discussion tonight will serve no purpose. I will just go to the library and select a book, to read myself to sleep. I will see you in our rooms shortly.”

Her mother nodded, and gathered up the embroidery she had been working on as they talked.

The library was quiet, and Venetia went instantly to the section she wanted – it seemed that her uncle had changed nothing in the room, so she easily found her favourite books. She stood there for a moment, the scent of books wrapping around her, entangled with her memories of this house, this room, and a sense of hopelessness filled her. It was so unfair that she and her mother should have lost everything, and that her uncle cared not a whit for their wellbeing.

For a moment, tears made her vision blur, then she dashed them away with her fingers, reached out and selected a book, almost at random, and turned to leave the room. Everything in this house was a painful reminder, through her memories, every day, of her situation. Everything except Lord Jasper, who was simply painful.

Venetia avoided him constantly, and he, when he wasn’t out carousing and gambling, seemed to take delight in bedevilling her. She had been careful not to let him catch her alone again, but he tried, and it was, she was sure, only a matter of time. What she would do then, she did not know.

She hurried up the stairs, the book clutched to her, the dark house around her suddenly feeling threatening. Halfway along the corridor to her rooms, it was as if a shadow detached itself from behind a statue which stood in a niche. She opened her mouth to scream as hands took her shoulders, wrenching her around, but the scream never escaped her, for lips came down upon hers, mercilessly taking a kiss from her.

She knew from the scent of him that it was Lord Jasper, and she struggled in his grasp. He, no doubt the wiser from their previous encounter, avoided her knee to his private parts, but he did not expect her to slam the edge of the book into that area. His mouth left hers, and she screamed then, hoping to be heard.

That hope was answered, when her mother’s door opened, and Lady Hardenwell came rushing out into the corridor. Lord Jasper looked in her direction and cursed under his breath, at which point Venetia applied the book again, and found herself released as Lord Jasper crumpled in pain.

Her mother gave her a look of approval as she reached them, but immediately turned her full attention to Lord Jasper. Venetia recognised the look on her face – Lord Jasper was about to be chastised in a very thorough and pointed fashion.

“Lord Jasper! What is the meaning of this? How dare you accost my daughter in such an inappropriate way!”

Lord Jasper glared at her, struggling to speak. He dragged himself upright again, one hand still cupping his injured parts. His face twisted into a sneer.

“The slattern should be glad that any man wants to touch her, with a face marred like that! It was just a kiss – she should be pleased, rather than seeking to injure me!”

Lady Hardenwell regarded him with disgust - her voice, when she spoke again, was cold and hard, and she delivered her words with knife like precision.

“If you ever speak of my daughter like that again, I can guarantee that you will suffer far worse injury… both physically, and reputationally. Have you forgotten that I know about your debts? Would your father care to know of your debt to Lord Pidwenning?” Lord Jasper paled, and swallowed hard after a sharp intake of breath. “No? I didn’t think so – you believed that I did not have the details? That was foolish of you. Perhaps your father would be interested in just how you acquired that debt – I do believe that it would tarnish his honour rather badly…”

“I… You can’t…”

Lord Jasper spluttered to a stop in the face of Lady Hardenwell’s implacable expression.

“I can. Very easily. And I will, unless your behaviour improves dramatically. Now get out of my sight, and think well on what I’ve said.”

Lord Jasper backed away from her, as if she might strike him.

“You have no authority over me, Aunt. I could cast you from this house.”