Page 48 of A Gifted Earl

Venetia struggled to repress the hysterical edge of laughter – that flush on her cheeks was from everything but the crisp morning air!

“It was a lovely ride, Mother. Lord Templewick has a beautiful estate – so large! And Lady Merringbar was excellent company. I do hope that we can ride out again before the end of the week.”

“So do I – if only because it will give you more chances to capture Lord Templewick’s attentions…”

Venetia blushed then, unused to her mother being so blatant in her encouragement of Venetia’s interest in a specific gentleman – but she supposed they were at a point now where they were desperate, and her mother’s fears for their future were showing.

“Indeed, although I suspect that our hopes are in vain there.”

“Perhaps, perhaps not – let us go down to the parlour, and see what is planned for the day.”

Venetia nodded, and they left the room, and turned towards the stairs. A flicker of movement caught Venetia’s eye, in the corridor in the opposite direction from the stairs, and she half-turned, trying to see what it was. Just the other side of a fairly large statue, which was placed on a hall table, she was sure that someone stood – someone of similar build to Jasper. But the hall was shadowy, and she could not be sure. She shook her head, turned back, and followed her mother – if she let every shadow frighten her, she would be perpetually distraught – all for no reason.

But still, the question remained in her mind – what if it had been Jasper, watching her?

For the rest of the day, that unsettled feeling of being watched persisted, and she found herself looking at everyone with suspicion, avoiding shadowy corners, and listening carefully to the voices of all of the gentlemen, attempting to match someone to the voice of the other man who had been with Jasper in the stables. It was exhausting, and fruitless.

By the end of the day, she felt ragged, and very out of sorts. The only bright spot in the evening was that she was seated next to Lord Templewick at dinner, and they had a delightful conversation about horses – he was extraordinarily knowledgeable. And that brought her mind back to the thought of him being the man who had sewn up her scar – the more she knew him, the more certain she became – but how could she ask?

In bed that night, she held the thought of him close as she drifted to sleep, and then dreamed of him – or was it the man sewing her face?

*****

As soon as they had returned to the house after their ride, Morgan had stepped into his study, and written a quick letter to his man of business, requesting that he ask of his contacts for anything pertaining to Lord Jasper Chater, and any debts he might owe. He had not expected an answer for some time, so he was most surprised when, only two days later, a response came in the mail. It helped that his man of business was in the next town, rather than in London, but still, he had expected messages to go to London and back.

The last two days had been difficult – he had needed to play the role of convivial host, keeping people entertained, even while he was watching Lord Jasper and his friends, and ensuring that they had no chance to be near Lady Venetia, unless she was surrounded by company. He had spent as much time as he could near her himself, but he had not yet said anything to her of his growing feelings, indeed, he was not sure how to broach the matter, and felt somewhat ashamed of his hesitance, both now and in London.

Even this morning, when he had thought that they might ride out again, it had dawned grey and miserable, with a steady light rain, and he had found himself trapped in the house, arranging card tables and other indoor activities, with no chance to be close to Lady Venetia with any sort of even partial privacy.

But now, when the letter was handed to him, hope filled him – hope for something which might allow him to act, and to give Lady Venetia good news – assuming that he could ever find a way to speak to her in private. He excused himself from the parlour and went to his study, closing the door after himself and taking a seat at his desk before breaking the seal on the letter.

He read it carefully, a smile growing on his face as he did, then read it again to be certain that he had grasped all of the detail. It was, as he had suspected, well within his capacity to take the action necessary to guarantee that Lord Jasper would no longer be in a position to disparage Lady Venetia, or otherwise distress her. His man of business had been most efficient, and discovered all that was required.

Pleased, he brought out a sheet of paper, uncapped the inkpot, and lifted his pen. Five minutes later, his instructions were listed, and the missive was sanded, folded, and sealed. On his way back out to the parlour, he found a footman, and sent him off to hand deliver the letter to the man of business, with all speed.

After that, the rest of the day was relatively quiet, with most guests choosing either to play cards, to talk amongst themselves, or to read. Morgan found himself, not long before dinner, walking through the house, casually joining various conversations for a short while, making sure that his guests were happy. His mother had been doing the same every day, and had this morning told him, in no uncertain terms, that he needed to spend more time talking to people. He rather thought it excessive, but if she regarded it as necessary, then he would do it.

He was, he realised, looking for Lady Venetia – she being the only person there whom he truly wanted to talk to. He found her in the parlour, sitting quietly near the window all by herself, watching everyone else. That brought a smile to his face, for she had so often done that in London – he wondered what she thought of these people, here?

He walked across to her, taking note of other conversations and the one card game which was continuing in this room, and took a seat beside her.

“Good Day, Lady Venetia. I trust your day has been pleasant, despite the rain depriving us of our ride.”

She started slightly, and turned to him, her cheeks flushed charmingly.

“Oh! I am sorry, I was thinking. Yes, today has been quite pleasant, although I am tempted to take myself to bed early tonight, and read. I have found that I do not have all that much in common with many of the people here, although most treat me with kindness, unlike many I met in London.”

There was an underlying sadness in her tone, and he ached to change that, to make her happy.

“I would hope so – I tried to invite people who would be pleasant to each other – I had no wish to approach Christmas feeling miserable.”

She met his eyes then, and a wry smile flickered across her face.

“Given everything, I cannot see that my Christmas will be pleasant this year – although this house party has given me an unexpected opportunity for some enjoyment.”

Her eyes held his, and everything else faded away for a moment, as he was drawn into their emerald-green depths. He breathed deeply, capturing the scent of her perfume, a rich tone of rose and vanilla, and felt the urge to tell her how he felt. But not here…

“I am glad that even your cousin’s presence has not prevented your enjoyment.”

Her eyes widened at that, and she glanced down, her fingers twining together in her lap. She did not respond immediately. His heart sank – what had Lord Jasper done? For he was sure, now, that he had done something.