Part 9 (2/2)
”Yes, of course. Cameron. I knew that. What I was trying to say was that. . . ah . . .”
”We won't suit?” Elizabeth prodded helpfully.
”Exactly!” Misintepreting her last sentence as being her own thought instead of his, he sighed with relief and nodded emphatically. ”I must say I'm happy to hear you agree with me.”
”Naturally, I regret that this is so,” Elizabeth added kindly, feeling that some sort of balm was due him for the emotional torment she'd put him through at the stream. ”My uncle will be most disappointed also,” she continued. It was all she could do not to leap to her feet and put the quill in his hand as she added, ”Would you like to write to him now and explain your decision?”
”Our decision,” he corrected gallantly.
”Yes, but. . .” She hesitated, framing her answer carefully. ”My uncle will be so very disappointed, and I-I shouldn't like him to lay the blame at my door” Sir Francis might well have blamed her in his inevitable letter to her uncle, and she didn't dare risk having the earl do likewise. Uncle Julius was no fool, and she couldn't risk his retribution if he realized she'd bees deliberately discouraging her beaux and intentionally thwarting him.
”I see,” he said, observing her with disturbing concentration, then he picked up a quill and trimmed it. A sigh of relief escaped Elizabeth as she watched him write his note. ”Now that that distasteful matter is out of the way, may I ask you something?” he said, shoving the note aside.
Elizabeth nodded happily.
”Why did you come here-that is, why did you agree to reconsider my proposal?”
The question alarmed and startled her. Now that she'd seen him she had only the dimmest, possibly even erroneous recollection of having spoken to him at a ball. Moreover, she couldn't tell him she was in danger of being cut off by her uncle, for that whole explanation was too humiliating to bear mentioning.
He waited for her to reply, and when she seemed unable to give one he prompted, ”Did I do or say something during our brief meetings the year before last to mislead you, perhaps, into believing I might yearn for the city life?”
”It's hard to say,” Elizabeth said with absolute honesty. .”Lady Cameron, do you even remember our meeting?” ”Oh, yes, of course. Certainly,” Elizabeth replied, belatedly recalling a man who looked very like him being presented to her at Lady Markham's. That was it! ”We met at Lady Markham's ball.”
His gaze never left her face. ”We met in the park.”
”In the park?” Elizabeth repeated in sublime embarra.s.sment.
”You had stopped to admire the flowers, and the young gentleman who was your escort that day introduced us.”
”I see,” Elizabeth replied. her gaze skating away from his. ”Would you care to know what we discussed that day and the next day when I escorted you back to the park?” Curiosity and embarra.s.sment warred, and curiosity won out.
”Yes, I would.”
”Fis.h.i.+ng.”
”F-Fis.h.i.+ng?” Elizabeth gasped. He nodded. ”Within minutes after we were introduced I mentioned that I had not come to London for the Season, as you supposed, but that I was on my way to Scotland to do some fis.h.i.+ng and was leaving London the very next day.”
An awful feeling of foreboding crept over Elizabeth as something stirred in her memory. ”We had a charming chat,” he continued. ”You spoke enthusiastically of a particularly challenging trout you were once able to land.”
Elizabeth's face felt as hot as red coals as he continued, ”We quite forgot the time and your poor escort as we shared fis.h.i.+ng stories.”
He was quiet, waiting, and when Elizabeth couldn't endure the d.a.m.ning silence anymore she said uneasily, ”Was there. . . more?”
”Very little. I did not leave for Scotland the next day but stayed instead to call upon you. You abandoned the half-dozen young bucks who'd come to escort you to some sort of fancy soiree and chose instead to go for another impromptu walk in the park with me.”
Elizabeth swallowed audibly, unable to meet his eyes. ”Would you like to know what we talked about that day?” ”No, I don't think so.”
He chuckled but ignored her reply. ”You professed to be somewhat weary of the social whirl and confessed to a longing to be in the country that day-which is why we went to the park. We had a charming time, I thought.”
When he fell silent, Elizabeth forced herself to meet his gaze and say with resignation, ”And we talked of fis.h.i.+ng?”
”No,” he said. ”Of boar hunting.” Elizabeth closed her eyes in sublime shame. ”You related an exciting tale of a wild boar your father had shot long ago, and of how you watched the hunt without permission-from the very tree below which the boar was ultimately felled. As I recall,” he finished kindly, ”you told me that it was your impulsive cheer that revealed your hiding place to the hunters-and that caused you to be seriously reprimanded by your father.”
Elizabeth saw the twinkle lighting his eyes, and suddenly they both laughed.
”I remember your laugh, too,” he said, still smiling, ”I thought it was the loveliest sound imaginable. So much so that between it and our delightful conversation I felt very much at ease in your company.” Realizing he'd just flattered her, he flushed, tugged at his neckcloth, and self-consciously looked away.
Seeing his discomfort, Elizabeth waited until he'd recovered his composure and was looking at her. ”I remember you, too,” she said, tipping her head sideways when he started to turn his head and refusing to let him break their gaze. ”I do,” she said quietly and honestly. ”I had forgotten until just a moment ago.”
He looked gratified and puzzled as he leaned back in his chair and studied her. ”Why did you choose to reconsider my proposal, when I scarcely made the merest impression on you?”
He was so nice, so kind, that Elizabeth felt she owed him a truthful answer. Moreover, she was rapidly revising her opinion of Lord Marchman's acuity. Now that the possibility of romantic involvement had vanished, his speech had become incisive and his perception alarmingly astute.
”You might as well confide the whole of it to me, you know,” he urged, smiling as he read her thoughts. ”I'm not quite the simpleton I'm sure I've seemed to be. It is only that I am not. . . er . . . comfortable around females in a courts.h.i.+p situation. Since I am not going to be your husband, however,” he said with only a twinge of regret, ”perhaps we could be friends?”
Elizabeth knew instinctively that he would not mock her situation if she explained it, and that he would continue probing until she did. ”It was my uncle's decision,” she said with an embarra.s.sed smile, trying to gloss matters over and still explain to him why he'd been put through this inconvenience. ”My uncle has no children, you see, and he is most determined that is, concerned to see me well wed. He knew of those gentlemen who'd offered for me-and so my uncle that is to say. . .” Elizabeth trailed off helplessly. It was not so easy to explain as she'd hoped.
”Selected me?” the earl suggested. Elizabeth nodded.
”Amazing. I distinctly recall hearing that you'd had several-no, many offers of marriage the Season we met.
Yet your uncle chose me. I must say I'm flattered. And very surprised. Considering the substantial difference in our ages, not to mention our interests, I should have expected him to choose a younger man. I apologize for prying,” he said, studying her very closely.
Elizabeth almost bolted out of her chair in dismay when he asked bluntly, ”Who else did he chose?”
Biting her lip, she looked away, unaware that Lord Marchman could see from her stricken expression that although the question embarra.s.sed her, the answer distressed her terribly.
”Whoever be is, he must be even less suited to you than I, from the look on your face,” he said, watching her. ”Shall I guess? Or shall I tell you frankly that an hour ago, when I returned, I overheard your aunt and your coachman laughing about something that occurred at the home of Sir Francis Belhaven. Is Belhaven the other man?” he asked gently.
The color drained from Elizabeth's face, and it was answer enough.
”d.a.m.nation!” expostulated the earl, grimacing in revulsion. ”The very thought of an innocent like yourself being offered to that old-”
”I've dissuaded him,” Elizabeth hastily a.s.sured him, but she was profoundly touched that the earl, who knew her so slightly, was angered on her behalf.
”You're certain?”
”I think so.”
After a moment's hesitation he nodded and leaned back in his chair, his disturbingly astute gaze on her face while a slow smile drifted across his own. ”May I ask how you accomplished it?”
'I'd truly rather you wouldn't.”
Again he nodded, but his smile widened and his blue eyes lit with amus.e.m.e.nt. ”Would I be far off the mark if I were to a.s.sume you used the same tactics on Marchman that I think you've used here?”
”I'm-not certain I understand your question,” Elizabeth replied warily, but his grin was innocuous, and she found herself having to bite her lip to stop from smiling back at him.
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