A Secret Passion (17 page)

Jane arranged the dark folds of her riding habit around the sidesaddle as she headed toward the footbridge. Her horse could sense her stiff, uneasy state of mind and reacted accordingly by nervously tossing its head. Dismounting, she looked anxiously on the other side of the bridge to see if Harry had arrived. But she knew no one would be there. Harry was late on all occasions.

“Hello, Mrs. Lovering,” the earl said as he came up behind her.

Whirling around, Jane felt herself blush. “Lord Graystock… Sir, you surprised me.”

“I can see that.” The earl tapped the side of his boot with his riding crop as his gaze bore into her eyes. “Jane, I am loath to make small talk. You will tell me now what is going on here. And why are you avoiding me?” Graystock insisted as he moved to within inches of her.

“I am not.” She looked at the ground as she was overcome by the intensity of the earl’s eyes. “Well, maybe I am. But I do not want you here. I told you in Littlefield that I would not marry you. I don’t know why you insist on persevering.”

“Perhaps it is because I am a gentleman. And gentlemen are true to their honor. Jane, I must marry you. And you must marry me. Or are you impervious to all sense of propriety?”

Jane looked around the earl toward the bridge. In vain.

“He is not coming,” Rolfe said.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“A note was sent to the manse explaining that you were unable to keep your engagement with Mr. Thompson.”

“You did
what
?”

“It is not appropriate for a female to meet a gentleman surreptitiously.”

“By your reasoning, it is inappropriate for you to be here now. I am not engaged to you, nor am I answerable to you, my lord.”

“I will not force the issue. I shall give you time, Jane. But I urge you to choose your path with care. And I ask for your word that you will not run away from your problems. That is the coward’s way, you know. Your problems will only follow you wherever you go,” he said with one eyebrow arched.

“I shall not promise you anything. But I do assure you I am not a coward, my lord.”

“I had not thought so. Now, please tell me you will not leave Cornwall without a word.”

Jane looked at the ground, and her heart pounded with confusion. She was angry and flustered that he had managed to guess her plans.

The earl took the last step toward her and lifted her chin with the warm cup of his hand. The intensity of his steel-colored eyes unnerved her. With a rush, his lips met hers, softly and then more firmly as he folded her into his body. Jane did not resist his embrace, as she felt numb from the shock. He stroked the side of her breast down to her waist with one hand while exploring her mouth. Jane realized that she was holding her breath, and inhaled sharply as he deepened the kiss. It stunned her to feel and smell his masculinity again.

He pulled back and looked at her. “Well?”

“Yes, well,” Jane replied with a slight hitch, “I cannot promise you anything, my lord.”

Jane pushed him away from her. She felt the cool morning air and shivered. She had been drugged in the warmth of his embrace. And her acquiescence to him had been at complete odds with her intentions.

“Please, stop,” she whispered, looking off to the side. “Your attentions are unwelcome, and I have told you this must go no further. Really, there is no reason to worry about my virtue any longer. I am to be married shortly. Actually, very shortly.”

He let out his breath. “I see. And who is to be the lucky gentleman? No, let me guess… could it be young Mr. Thompson?”

“Well, yes, it is he.”

“And you are in love with him?” he asked, his eyes hooded.

“You have no right to question me like this. But if you must know, the answer is yes,” she said, lifting her chin.

“And your father and his family approve of the match?”

“No. For that reason, I ask your forbearance in not revealing our engagement at present. This is much to ask, but at least it must relieve you of all your moral obligations to me.”

“Jane, stop calling me ‘sir’ and ‘my lord’ when we are alone. It is preposterous after we have lain together,” he said as he reached for her hand. “Now, I must ask you to think carefully of what you are about. Are you certain Thompson will give you the kind of life that will make you happy? And your father—he is most enchanted with the idea of our marriage.”

“I can very easily picture his countenance when you offered for my hand,” she said. “How much would it have cost you from the Graystock coffers? Ten or more thousand?”

He regarded her and did not answer.

“It is as I thought. The price for my hand has seen new heights. My father will be vastly disappointed, I am sure.”

Graystock stepped close to her once again. He cupped her face in both of his hands and stared into her eyes. “Are you sure this infatuation with Mr. Thompson is not a passing fancy? Will you not be miserable with a man who is unable to match…”

Jane removed his hands from her face. “Excuse me, but do not presume that since we have, have
lain together
, as you so aptly described it, you know everything about me and what will make me happy. Harry will make me happy. You will not.” She stomped her foot once. It was infuriating to have to explain her feelings to the earl. He had no right to question her.

He moved to stroke her hair and once again leaned to kiss her, with all restraint lost. His proximity tormented her body and her mind. When he pulled away, she could not stop her tears.

“Damn you!” she said as she turned to remount her horse. Her last shred of dignity was removed when she was forced to request his aid.

“It would be my pleasure,” he responded with a huge smile. “I live to be at your beck and call,” he continued glibly.

Rolfe still felt the imprint of her delicate form on his chest and remembered the sweet, warm scent of her flaxen hair. He smiled. He could at least be glad that she had allowed him to kiss her. A promising sign in itself. And he felt confident that she would not secretly hasten away. Everything else was not to be counted on, for he was quite sure they would never, ever be of one mind on any subject! It was a great tax on his forbearance.

Chapter Nine

A LIGHT summer rain tapped against the windows of the Fairchilds’ main salon that afternoon. Girlish laughter filled the room as two spirited games of cards began in earnest after tea. Jane had excused herself from play to face the dreaded task of composing a letter to her father.

This was it. She would go through with it. Following a painful interview with Harry’s father yesterday, in which the latter had refused to grant the couple’s wishes without her father’s consent, Jane and Harry had made covert plans to travel to Gretna Green despite her conversation with the earl. Seeing the reverend’s fright, springing from his idea that Jane’s father would turn him out of the living, she knew that they would have to remove quickly. They resolved on departing in two days’ time via Harry’s dilapidated version of a carriage. Jane had two days to pack and write letters to her father and Clarissa. Her efforts to assure Lord Graystock that he had no further responsibility in her corner had failed, as he had made no plans for his departure from Pembroke. She sighed, knowing she must speak with him again to prevent any possibility of his trying to follow them. An examination of her conscience also made her realize she must also pluck any remaining guilty feelings she felt toward her family out of her heart. There was only the smallest voice inside her head echoing doubts about the intelligence of her plan. A louder demon reminded her constantly about the future plight of her aunt and the rest of her family.

Sitting at a small writing desk at the front corner of the room, she gazed out the large windows to take in the beauty of the vista. It pained her to know she was likely to never again be in the house once she married Harry. But what was that, compared to life with the man she loved?

She turned and looked at Harry’s profile. He grinned as Miss Dodderidge’s hand covered his own. She begged him to help her with the intricacies of the game of Hearts. Between Harry and Miss Dodderidge sat Clarissa, with the earl opposite, dressed in a severe black superfine coat that emphasized his broad, hawkish physique. Jane glanced to the second table of card players when she felt Graystock’s cool gaze turn toward her.

The other table featured William and his three sisters, Sarah, Lillian, and Fanny. Much arguing erupted from that table, as family members were guaranteed to fight amongst themselves when the formality of manners and small titles such as Miss and Mr. were unnecessary and forgotten.

Jane twined the fingers of one hand as she wracked her brain for verbiage. She was on the point of quitting the room to seek the solitude necessary to compose her difficult letters when she spied from the front window Sir Thomas Gooding, riding up the pea-gravel lane in front of the house. His hat was misshapen from the wet, and he handed the ribbons over to a groom, who hurried in the direction of the stables. Jane tried to capture Clarissa’s attention as she rose from her desk to stand before the double doors. Clarissa looked at her with a doe’s innocence.

The doors opened, and a footman introduced Sir Thomas, who stood brushing the last of the raindrops from his coat, which had been mostly protected by his greatcoat. His short dark brown hair was matted where his hat had failed its duty.

Jane moved forward to clasp his hands. “Sir Thomas, how delightful to see you again, sir.”

“Thank you for your welcome, Mrs. Lovering. I am sorry to drip all over you.”

“Nonsense, sir. We are so happy you have come for a visit.”

She knew without glancing at her aunt that it was Clarissa’s turn to feel as ill at ease as she herself had felt the night before, when the earl had arrived unannounced. The necessary effusions of greeting and introductions were well under way when Graystock, with laughter in his expression, slapped his friend on the back.

“What brings you to Cornwall, my good man?”

“I should ask you the same, Graystock. I thought you were in London on pressing business.”

“Yes. Well…” The earl was at a loss for words for once.

William Thompson blurted out, “Why, Lord Graystock is here for a look at the famous Fairchild horses, of course.”

Sir Thomas grinned. “I see. The stallion has not learned his lessons well? I, then, am come to seek a horse as well.”

Jane interjected, “Where are you staying, Sir Thomas?”

“At the Tabard Inn.”

“You are very welcome to stay with us, of course,” Jane said as she looked at Clarissa’s ashen, downcast face.

Gooding paused and looked toward Clarissa as well. “You are very kind, but I would not impose.”

“Oh, come, come, Gooding, let us have none of that,” replied the earl. “Mrs. Lovering has invited you, and you must accept if for no other reason than to even out the numbers at mealtimes.”

“If Miss Fairchild is not inconvenienced, I would be delighted to accept the invitation,” he said quietly.

Clarissa looked up when she heard her name mentioned. “You are very welcome, Sir Thomas,” she said.

“It is settled, then,” Lord Graystock said with satisfaction as Jane handed Sir Thomas a cup of lukewarm tea.

Never one to miss the opportunity of meeting someone new, Miss Dodderidge giggled and asked Sir Thomas if he would like to join their table. Still glancing at Clarissa, Sir Thomas declined and walked to stand by the fireplace to dry his damp boots. Jane dispensed with the idea of composing a letter and moved to converse with Sir Thomas.

“May I inquire about the health of your family, sir? I presume they are all well?”

“Yes, very much so. Or so I believe. I received a letter from my uncle, Lord Rushmore, the day I left Littlefield,” responded Sir Thomas, his smile reaching his brown eyes.

“I believe I had the pleasure of meeting your uncle a few years ago. He was a great friend of my husband’s.”

“Oh, yes, I remember. Uncle Willie used to invite Mr. Lovering to come for the superior foxhunting found on his estate. They would mount up every autumn whether conditions were favorable or not,” he said. “When I was there during holidays as a boy, I used to beg and beg to go with them. But they never would consent until I reached the advanced age of fifteen. They decided along with my father that that would be a suitable age for me to break my neck!” Sir Thomas added with a laugh. Jane took Sir Thomas’ empty teacup and placed it on the mantel.