Page 29 of A Gifted Earl

Chapter Ten

Venetia stayed to the edges of the excited conversation around Miss Hanson, unable to raise the required enthusiasm to be part of it. She was staring blankly across the room to where the acknowledged beauties danced with the most handsome admirers, desperately wishing that she could turn back time, that she could choose not to take that jump, that she could be one of those girls, rather than the outcast that she had become.

It was pointless wishing, for nothing could be changed, but that did not stop her wishing it, regardless.

“Dreaming of what might have been?”

The voice was soft, barely a whisper, and from so close to her ear that she could feel his breath on her skin. A quiver ran through her, her heart raced, and her mouth went suddenly dry. She did not turn, however, but simply smiled, knowing who it was, immediately. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips before she spoke, her whisper just as low as his.

“Indeed. Although perhaps with a better understanding of what I actually wish for, now, than I would ever have had before.”

She heard his sharp intake of breath, and knew, with an odd pang in her heart, that he understood what she meant.

How was it that this man could so easily reach the truth of her, could understand her, and not only accept, but actually seek her blunt and baldly honest statements, rather than expecting bland platitudes? And, even more importantly, why did she feel comfortable with that, why did she trust him to hold her secrets close, rather than spreading gossip? For she did trust him, she had come to realise, in a way that she did not trust any other man she’d met.

“Is that pragmatism I hear? Surely, an unusual quality to find in a young Lady.”

“Having one’s choices severely restricted commonly leads to the development of pragmatism.”

He was silent, after another sharp intake of breath. She waited a moment, steadying herself, then turned, to find him standing very close indeed. Her eyes met his, and the world went still and silent around her as their brown depths drew her in. There was peace in that sensation, but danger as well – oh so much danger, for if she allowed herself to fall into those depths, she could fall forever, could be caught up in feelings which she could not permit herself to have.

She forced herself to break that eye contact – which led to her eyes considering the rest of his handsome face – and that was almost as bad! She drew a ragged breath.

“Lady Venetia, might I hope for a dance?”

She laughed then, with only a little of bitterness in it.

“You need not hope, my Lord, for you know full well that the availability of a dance is guaranteed, or you would not have found me here, dreaming.”

“Then, if you will allow it, I will take full advantage of that fact.”

“I will allow it, gladly.”

“I shall keep you company here, until the next dance is about to begin.” He angled his head towards the cluster of women nearby. “Has something happened to cause this scene of excitement?”

Venetia sighed softly, and he raised an eyebrow enquiringly.

“Miss Amelia Hanson has become betrothed to Lord Merringbar. She is lucky, for he seems a decent man, and all of the other girls are excited for her – and dreadfully envious.”

“Ah, I see. Let us speak of other things, then. When we spoke at the musicale, neither of us had yet decided when we might be leaving London – that, on my part at least, has now changed. I do not feel that I can achieve much more in London – not until the spring. I am therefore going to take myself back to Templewick Grange, leaving in a few days’ time. I want to be certain that the tenants are all well set up for the colder weather, while I still have time to arrange repairs to their cottages if required.”

Venetia turned her head away for a moment, struck with a pang of sorrow at the thought of not seeing him, of having his company taken from her so soon.

“We will also be leaving London within the week. It has become obvious that I am unlikely to make a match at present, so we will go home for the winter, and return to London in March. Perhaps, by then…”

A tightness passed across his face, fleetingly, and she wondered what had caused it, but he said nothing in response. She was almost certain, however, that he had heard the unspoken end to her sentence ‘by then, my scar may have faded…’.

The current dance ended, and he offered his arm, ready to lead her to the dance floor as soon as the current dancers moved off. She took it, and soon they were dancing, letting most conversation drop in favour of simply enjoying themselves, of ignoring all things serious for some time. If only she could forget her troubles entirely…

*****

In the carriage on the way home, Morgan was silent.

His mother, uncharacteristically, left it at that, and he immersed himself in his thoughts. Thoughts of his own feelings, which disturbed him.

When Lady Venetia had spoken of making a match, something sharp had twisted inside him – yet he had always known that she was hoping for such a thing. Nonetheless, he found that he did not like the idea of her marrying any of the gentlemen who might be a possibility. She deserved far better than lechers and wastrels!

The intensity of his response surprised him – she was not his to worry about, indeed, she deserved a better man than him, for she needed someone who was stainless in the eyes of society, who had no unsuitable history to be discovered. He shook his head – was he truly considering her as if there might be something between them? Did he want there to be?