Page 47 of A Gifted Earl

Venetia managed to laugh, although to her own ears it sounded a little shaky.

“I’ve saddled and unsaddled my own horses many a time. It’s not a concern. But I’ll leave him to your care now, with thanks.”

Lord Templewick offered her his arm as she stepped out into the corridor, and she placed her hand on it, feeling somehow safer for his touch. He spoke softly as they walked towards the door.

“Is all truly well? You seem a little… disconcerted?”

She did not want to lie to this man, but she had to.

“I am well. But… can you please adjust my hat, and my hair, so that I look respectable? Without a mirror, I really can’t achieve that.”

He gave her a conspiratorial smile.

“I do not profess to be an expert at dressing a lady’s hair, but I will do my best.”

So she paused, and he reached up, tugging her hat gently back into position, resetting the pins in her hair, and the hat pin which held the hat in place. It was a shockingly intimate thing for a gentleman to be doing to her, and it made her breath come short, her mouth go dry, and her heart ache, for the intimacies she might never know with a man who cared for her.

He set the last pin, and stepped back to assess the result.

There was something in his eyes, some warmth, and yet something of sadness, which confused her. Then he nodded.

“Will I do? Do I look respectable enough to walk through the house?”

“You do indeed look respectable – and beautiful, as you always do.”

The words shocked her utterly, but he simply offered his arm again, and they set off back to the house, both in a contemplative silence.

*****

Morgan didn’t believe her.

He’d spoken with her enough, in London, and here, to know that there was something wrong. Just what might have happened in the stables in that short time he had left her alone, he did not know, but something had, of that he was certain.

But he could not demand answers – he had no right to demand anything of her, no reason to expect anything.

Which did not mean that he did not ache to know, ache to make whatever was wrong, right.

He feared for her, even though he did not know what there was to fear.

It was nearly Christmas, and this should be a joyous time of year, yet here he was, considering a Lady being fearful – it was not right.

And the strength of his fears, the ache that her discomfiture roused in his heart, startled him, and made him, yet again, realise just how much he had come to care for this woman.

Still, he allowed the silence, and simply escorted her back to the house – there would, hopefully, be time later to discover what was wrong. And in the interim, he would watch closely, and perhaps find, in what he saw, an indication of what the problem truly was.

*****

Venetia was surprised that she had managed to walk back to the house at all, for inside, she was still shaking. But manage she did, with the comforting support of Lord Templewick’s arm beneath her hand. The fragile composure she had managed to gain he had near destroyed by calling her beautiful, but she had, somehow, stayed steady, and kept walking.

Now, in her rooms, and putting her hair to rights properly, as she changed into a suitable day dress, her mind was in turmoil. It would, she knew, be entirely possible for Jasper to make good on his threat to utterly ruin her reputation – it did not take all that much gossip to stain a woman’s reputation, whether there was any truth in it or not. And she did not know what to do, for almost any action she might take could be enough to make him, simply out of petty spite, set out to ruin her, by gossip, if not in physical fact.

She was also greatly disturbed that there had been another gentleman with him in the stables – for that meant another man she needed to avoid – which was somewhat challenging, when she did not even know the man’s name, and had not seen his face! The only thing she could do was go on as if it had not happened, as if Jasper was not here, spoiling what had seemed a pleasant way to approach Christmas, spoiling what had seemed a last chance to find a match.

And as she thought that, the only face which rose in her mind was that of Lord Templewick. If she had to marry someone, why, oh why, could it not be him? She pushed that wish aside – deluding herself by dreaming of the man she might never have, no matter how much she was coming to care for him, was ensuring that she would be miserable in the future. For, in but a few days’ time, after this house party, she would have to face the reality of her situation, and likely marry Lord Peterley.

That thought caused a small shudder to run through her, but she internally castigated herself sternly, pushed the last pin into her hair, and went out into their small sitting room, where her mother was waiting for her.

“You look very nice, Venetia – your cheeks have a nice flush to them. It seems a ride in the crisp morning air was good for you.”