Historical Trio 2012-01 (44 page)

‘Miss Thompson might encounter any number of…dangerous individuals, roaming about the Devonshire countryside at this time of the night,’ the earl added drily.

As far as Elizabeth was concerned the only ‘dangerous individual’ she might encounter here at night—or any other time—was standing in this very room with her! Nor did she appreciate the earl’s interference in a matter that was none of his business; Elizabeth had so far enjoyed the solitude of her late-night walks with Hector, both in London and here. Moreover, she resented any implication from Lord Thorne that she was some lily-livered miss too afraid to go out into the dark of the night.

‘This is Devonshire, Osbourne, not London.’ Mrs Wilson obviously shared her scepticism.

‘Even so…’

‘I am sure I shall be perfectly safe, Lord Thorne.’ Elizabeth managed to keep her tone suitably demure—at the same time glaring her displeasure at him from beneath lowered lashes.

A glare he met by raising one mocking brow. ‘Perhaps I should stroll outside with Miss Thompson, Aunt?’ he suggested mildly. ‘I can as easily smoke my cigar out there as in here.’

‘I could always accompany Betsy,’ Letitia offered with obvious nervousness.

‘I fear that would only place you both in danger, dear Letitia,’ the earl dismissed kindly.

Mrs Wilson frowned her concern. ‘You seriously think there is danger in Betsy going outside alone at night here?’

Lord Thorne shrugged those broad shoulders. ‘I doubt the smuggling in the area is any less rife now than it has been for several years past.’

Elizabeth had been rendered uncharacteristically dumbstruck by the earl’s suggestion that he accompany her on her walk outside, but now she gaped at him. ‘Smuggling?’

Deep brown eyes regarded her with mocking amusement as he gave an inclination of his head. ‘Still a very lucrative, though totally illegal trade in Devonshire, I believe. One that I am sure the gentlemen involved would prefer not to be interrupted by a young woman walking her dog.’

‘I had not thought of that.’ Mrs Wilson nodded briskly. ‘Perhaps you should accompany Betsy, Osbourne…’

‘Betsy’ could have screamed with the frustration of being discussed as if she had no will or mind of her own. Which, of course, as Betsy Thompson, companion to Mrs Wilson’s pampered and much-loved dog, she did not…

‘Unless Betsy believes it improper to venture outside alone with me?’ the earl asked huskily.

Elizabeth’s mouth tightened as she looked up into his rakishly handsome face, knowing that he was certainly not above mocking her now that his appetite for his dinner had been satisfied. ‘You—’

‘That is as ridiculous as the suggestion that the maid should not tidy your bedchamber, Osbourne,’ Mrs Wilson dismissed impatiently.

Placing Elizabeth firmly in the position of lowly servant, a role she was finding it increasingly difficult to maintain when in the company of the rapidly recovering Nathaniel Thorne…

‘How long has it been since you acquired the name of Betsy?’

The young lady striding determinedly at Nathaniel’s side on the moonlit pathway that ran along the cliff-top now stumbled slightly at the unexpectedness of his question.

That she was furious at his intervention earlier was obvious, considering the frosty silence with which she had treated him since her return from collecting her black-velvet pelisse from her bedchamber. She had taken Hector’s leash from the waiting footman and stalked outside without so much as a glance in Nathaniel’s direction.

He had followed at a more leisurely pace, enjoying his cigar at least as he did so, his much longer strides enabling him to reach her side within seconds. From her continued silence, and the subsequent glance down at her resolutely averted features as they walked along side by side, he realised she had no intention of even acknowledging his presence unless provoked into doing so.

Which, unless Nathaniel was mistaken, he had effectively just done…

She looked up at him sharply in the moonlight. ‘What do you mean?’

It was a clear spring evening, warm enough that Nathaniel had no need of an outer coat, with not a cloud to mask the brightness of the stars shining in the velvet-black sky overhead. Probably not the ideal night for smugglers to be abroad; Nathaniel believed they usually preferred a few clouds to cover the light of the moon and so mask their movements.

In which case, it should have been pleasant to walk in the moonlight with a young and desirable woman and the happy little white dog trotting ahead of them. Instead it had so far been a silent battle of wills between them.

He sighed. ‘I have noticed that you seem to flinch whenever my aunt—or indeed, anyone else—addresses you as such.’

‘You are mistaken, my lord—’

‘I think not,’ he interrupted firmly; his patience with this young woman was not limitless.

Elizabeth glanced up at him warily, knowing that she had seriously underestimated him, that his insight now showed that there was far more to this gentleman than the affectionate nephew he was to Mrs Wilson, or the flirtatious friend of the scandalous Lord Faulkner who had attempted to make love to her this afternoon.

‘Your lengthy silence betrays your need to think of a suitable explanation for your behaviour,’ Nathaniel said quietly.

She drew in a determined breath. ‘You need only question your aunt to receive that explanation, my lord,’ she replied lightly as she continued to walk along the narrow path.

‘Which, for obvious reasons, I am not about to do!’

No, it really would not do for the Earl of Osbourne to show such an interest in the young lady who was companion to his aunt’s dog! ‘I assure you there is no mystery to the explanation, my lord; Mrs Wilson did not consider my full name of Elizabeth to be suitable for a servant in her household,’ she explained airily.

So her name was really Elizabeth, Nathaniel mused as he continued to stroll along at her side. Yes, he believed the elegance of that name suited this contradictory young woman far better than Betsy. ‘Then in future I shall call you Elizabeth—’

‘I wish you would not!’ She had come to another halt in her agitation. ‘I—your aunt would not like it,’ she added with far less vehemence.

‘I do not recall saying that I intended asking my aunt’s permission,’ Nathaniel said drily.

Elizabeth frowned her displeasure. ‘You have not asked my permission, either, my lord—for if you had I should certainly have refused it.’

‘Perhaps when we are alone together like this—’

‘No, my lord!’

He shrugged. ‘I call Letitia by her given name.’

‘Because the two of you are related by marriage,’ she reasoned primly. ‘Whereas I am merely—’

‘—the young lady I kissed earlier today,’ Nathaniel completed her sentence huskily.

Deep blue eyes flashed up at him in the moonlight as she came to another halt on the pathway. ‘That you attempted to kiss, Lord Thorne! An attempt I believe I successfully routed,’ she added with smug satisfaction.

Her satisfaction alone would have been enough to prick Nathaniel’s masculine pride; that obvious air of smugness was taking things altogether too far!

Something that Elizabeth also became aware of as she began to back away from him warily. ‘You really cannot go around taking advantage of the young ladies who work in your aunt’s household, sir.’

‘There is only one young lady in my aunt’s household in whom I have the least interest in taking advantage of, my dear Elizabeth,’ Nathaniel murmured as he threw away the remains of his cigar to slowly follow her.

‘I am not your dear anything!’ she protested with righteous indignation.

‘Not yet, no,’ he acknowledged throatily.

‘Not ever!’ Her dark curls bounced in the moonlight. ‘My lord, you really cannot—’

‘Oh, but I really can.’ Nathaniel nodded with certainty.

‘You—oh!’ This second protest came to an abrupt halt as he pulled her effortlessly into his arms to hold her tightly against him.

‘And, my dear Elizabeth, this time we will have no unfair advantage taken of my bruised ribs.’ He grinned down at her wolfishly before his head lowered and he claimed her lips with his own.

Elizabeth had not been mistaken earlier; it was both enthralment and pleasure she felt at having Nathaniel Thorne’s experienced lips upon her own. A warm, tingling pleasure began at her breasts, causing them to swell and those tiny swollen buds at the tips to press sensitively against the bodice of her gown, before it surged through the rest of her body and ended between her thighs.

Oh, my!

Elizabeth had never experienced anything like this particular heat before; it felt as if she were swelling there, too, and there was also a dampness that, although slightly uncomfortable, nevertheless made her legs tremble and her knees feel decidedly weak…

Her hands moved to the front of Nathaniel’s silk waistcoat, fingers curling into that material in an effort to steady herself, instantly becoming aware of the heated hardness of his muscled body beneath that waistcoat and shirt—firm, ridged muscle that quivered in response to her touch as his mouth continued to devour her own.

It was, Elizabeth decided completely breathlessly, the most thrilling experience of her life. Unlike anything she had ever known or felt before. The heat that coursed through her body increased tenfold as one of his hands moved to capture the swell of her breast—

Elizabeth felt bereft as he suddenly ended that kiss, blinking up at him as he scowled off into the darkness.

‘What have you done, you silly girl!’ he exclaimed.

What had she—?

‘Hector…?’ Too late Elizabeth realised she must have let loose the little dog’s lead as they kissed, and that Hector, barking somewhere far in the distance, had not only wandered off, but already been swallowed up into the darkness.

Chapter Three

‘Y
ou are to blame for this!’ she gasped furiously.

‘I was not the one so taken up with our kisses that I allowed my charge to wander off,’ Nathaniel reminded her grimly as the two of them hurried along the darkened cliff path in pursuit of the mischievous little dog. Or, at least, Elizabeth hurried; Nathaniel’s normal strides were still more than a match for hers.

‘I was not—Hector! Hector!—so taken up with them, either!’ She glared up at him accusingly as she continued to call for her charge. ‘If you had not—Hector! Hector!—taken liberties—Hector!—’

‘A word of caution, Elizabeth—’ Nathaniel decided to interrupt what appeared to be warming up to a tirade worthy of his aunt when she had worked herself into an indignant lather ‘—the smugglers in this area are very real. And if some of them should be abroad at this time…’

‘I believe you are merely trying to frighten me, my lord.’

‘And why on earth should I wish to do that?’ he enquired mildly.

‘No doubt because you take some sort of dubious pleasure in doing so,’ Elizabeth retorted, having had more than enough of this man’s nonsense for one evening, of one type or another… ‘And I have no intention of being frightened by myth and legend—’ She broke off abruptly as she once again heard Hector barking in the distance.

A bark that was accompanied by a sharp command closely followed by the snorting and whinnying of an obviously disturbed and unsettled horse!

‘Hector!’ Elizabeth gasped before running forwards into the darkness.

Nathaniel hurried after her, his heart seeming to stop beating in his chest as he saw Elizabeth hurtling headlong towards where Hector could be seen barking up at a huge and ghostly pale horse that snorted and showed the whites of its eyes as it danced precariously close to the edge of the cliff, resisting all of its rider’s efforts to regain control as it reared up on its back legs.

‘Quiet, Hector!’ Nathaniel rasped at the same time as Elizabeth grasped hold of the horse’s reins, talking soothingly as it came down on all four dancing—and lethally dangerous—hooves in front of her, eyes wild, nostrils flaring as it continued to snort and prance despite the dog having now been rendered silent. ‘Get control, man!’ Nathaniel instructed the black-clad rider harshly, ignoring the pain in his ribs as he stepped forwards to take a firm grasp of the horse’s bridle.

Held captive on both sides, the grey finally began to calm. ‘There’s a good lad,’ Elizabeth crooned soothingly as she stroked and petted the horse’s silky neck. ‘Good boy. Good lad,’ she continued admiringly as the hose became calmer by the second. ‘There’s a fine fellow.’

Nathaniel decided he would deal with Miss Elizabeth Thompson’s recklessness in approaching a rearing horse later, instead concentrating his not inconsiderable wrath upon the rider of the horse as the man slid smoothly down from the saddle to stand beside him on the pathway. ‘What did you think you were doing, man?’ he demanded forcefully as he maintained a hold upon the bridle of the still-skittish horse.

‘What did I—?’ That gentleman seemed momentarily at a loss for words. ‘If you had not allowed your wretched dog loose to startle Starlight, then none of this would have happened!’

Elizabeth was very aware—the slight upon Hector aside—that the gentleman’s accusation was a merited one. ‘I am afraid that was my fault, sir.’ The pale oval of the man’s face turned sharply in her direction. ‘I inadvertently allowed Hector’s leash to slip through my fingers, and in doing so obviously caused—’

‘Who are you?’ the man demanded sharply, his black cloak billowing gently about him in the darkness, his tall hat having also somehow remained secure upon his head. Elizabeth was startled by the intensity of the question. ‘I am Eliza—Betsy Thompson, sir. And I sincerely apologise if I have caused you and your horse any distress. I am afraid I was momentarily—distracted, and allowed Hector to escape.’ She scowled at the reason for that distraction.

‘Eliza Thompson, you say?’ that gentleman prompted tersely.

‘Elizabeth. But I am called Betsy,’ she said. ‘I trust you and Starlight have suffered no harm, sir?’

‘I cannot vouch for that until I have Starlight back in his stable and a lantern to see by,’ the man growled.

‘Is that you, Tennant?’ Nathaniel asked suddenly.

‘My name is Sir Rufus Tennant, yes.’ The other man eyed him down the length of his nose. ‘And you are…?’

‘Osbourne.’

That single name had the desired effect as some of the tension appeared to leave the other gentleman’s broad shoulders. ‘Nathaniel Thorne?’

‘Just so,’ the earl confirmed tersely.

‘You are staying at Hepworth Manor with your aunt?’

‘Obviously,’ Nathaniel said drily. ‘What on earth are you about riding the cliff-top in the dark, Tennant?’

‘A gentleman does not discuss his night-time pursuits in front of a lady, Osbourne.’ Sir Rufus Tennant sounded ruefully amused.

And so leaving Elizabeth, as she knelt on the ground stroking the heavily panting Hector, in some doubts as to whether he was involved in smuggling, after all, or was simply a gentlemen returning from a lovers’ tryst.

‘You surprise me, Tennant…’ Nathaniel murmured slowly, obviously believing it to be the latter.

‘Indeed?’ the other man came back coolly.

‘I believe it is time we were returning to Hepworth Manor, my lord.’ Elizabeth straightened, Hector’s leash once more safely secure in her hand.

‘Introduce the two of us, Osbourne,’ the other man instructed curtly.

‘Betsy Thompson. Sir Rufus Tennant.’ The earl’s terseness was evidence of his irritation at the other man’s high-handedness.

‘Miss Thompson.’ Sir Rufus Tennant sketched her a bow. ‘Do I have your permission to call upon you tomorrow?’

Elizabeth was rendered momentarily speechless for the second time in the past few minutes. That Sir Rufus believed her to be a guest at Mrs Wilson’s home was obvious. That she was not was made glaringly obvious to Elizabeth as Nathaniel answered the other man.

‘Miss Thompson is my aunt’s companion, and will no doubt be busy about her duties if you should decide to call tomorrow,’ he bit out harshly. ‘But I am sure Mrs Wilson will be only too pleased to receive you.’

Elizabeth, although aware that Sir Rufus’s searching gaze was still fixed firmly upon her, remained stoically and uncomfortably silent, having been reminded all too forcibly that companions to wealthy ladies did not receive visits from titled gentlemen.

‘Are you going to remain silent for the whole of our walk back to Hepworth Manor, too?’ Nathaniel snapped, his ribs now aching abominably from the force necessary to quieten Tennant’s mount, an ache not helped in the least by the quickness of the pace Elizabeth had set for the both of them. No doubt in her hurry to be free of his company!

‘I had thought you would prefer it, my lord,’ she responded. ‘I am sure that the tedious chattering of a mere lady’s companion would grate upon a gentleman’s nerves!’ she obviously could not resist adding waspishly.

Once again Nathaniel was alerted to the contradictions that surrounded this young woman. That Tennant had also believed her to be a lady of quality from the mere sound of her voice had been obvious from his request to call upon her tomorrow—a request Nathaniel had found not in the least pleasing! Any more than Elizabeth had obviously found the sharpness of his reply to Tennant to her liking.

‘I do not find the chattering of this particular lady’s companion in the least tedious,’ Nathaniel admitted.

Glittering blue eyes were turned to him in the darkness. ‘I find that very hard to believe, my lord!’

‘Why is that, Elizabeth?’

‘I have told you not to—’

‘And I have told you that when we are alone I have every intention of addressing you as Elizabeth.’

She gave him an exasperated glance. ‘And as I am employed by your aunt I am to have no say in the matter?’

He gave a shrug. ‘Do you prefer the name of Betsy?’

She gave an inelegant snort. ‘Of course I do not.’

‘Then why object to my calling you Elizabeth?’

‘Because you did not ask, my lord, you told.’ There was the heat of anger in her voice.

‘Very well.’ Nathaniel gave a slight inclination of his head. ‘May I address you as Elizabeth when we are alone?’

‘No!’ she obviously took great delight in denying him.

‘Now you are just being deliberately difficult,’ he rasped impatiently. ‘Is all this indignation because I told Tennant that you are employed by my aunt?’

Elizabeth stiffened. ‘Why should I be in the least concerned at your having stated the truth?’

‘I have no idea, I only know that—damn it to hell!’ Nathaniel had turned to take a firm grasp of Elizabeth’s arms, only to then draw his breath in sharply as the agony in his chest caused him to abruptly release her and fight back the urge to double over with the pain.

‘My lord?’ Elizabeth was full of concern as she turned to him in the darkness.

‘I apologise for my language,’ Nathaniel grated through clenched teeth as he slowly straightened.

‘Never mind that now.’ She gave an agitated shake of her head, dark curls bouncing beneath her bonnet. ‘You have hurt yourself again—’

‘I have merely exacerbated the original injury,’ he corrected, jaw tightly clamped to ward off the pain. ‘Owing, no doubt, to the fact that I had to step in and save you from your own recklessness!’

Her indignation returned. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I expected at any moment to see you trampled to death beneath the horse’s hooves.’ Nathaniel glared down at her accusingly. ‘What on earth did you think you were about, leaping into the fray in that way?’

‘I assure you I knew exactly what I was doing.’

‘Indeed?’ Nathaniel scorned.

‘I was put upon my first horse at the age of—’ She broke off abruptly, lips closing firmly together as she realised she had said too much.

Or not enough, Nathaniel thought with considerable frustration. If it should turn out that Elizabeth Thompson was the daughter of some minor and impoverished gentleman, as he was seriously beginning to believe she might be, then his behaviour towards her earlier could place him in a very awkward position. A very awkward position, indeed…

‘Yes, you were saying?’ he encouraged persuasively.

Elizabeth straightened. ‘Let me help you back to the house, my lord.’

‘I am in pain, Elizabeth, not crippled!’ Nathaniel gave a wince at the excess of aggression in his tone as she attempted to take his arm.

Her hand fell back to her side. ‘Then perhaps, sir, you should look to your own actions before criticising my own.’

‘How so?’ Nathaniel frowned.

She gave a curt nod. ‘If you had not become involved in a drunken brawl, then you would not have received the injuries from which you now suffer.’

‘And if I received these injuries in the defence of a lady?’ he offered drily, the waves of pain starting to recede now.

She raised sceptical brows. ‘I find that very hard to believe. A lady of quality would never have placed herself in the position of needing such a defence,’ she added as Nathaniel looked enquiringly at her.

That might well be true. Although, as Nathaniel’s friend Lord Dominic Vaughn, Earl of Blackstone, had stated that he intended making the lady in question his wife as soon as was possible, it would perhaps be prudent on Nathaniel’s part to keep that opinion to himself! ‘I am sure that you would never place yourself in such a position,’ he drawled instead.

Elizabeth frowned, obviously suspecting that he was mocking her. ‘I am a lady’s companion, my lord, not a lady,’ she informed him haughtily as she resumed her walk back to Hepworth Manor.

A haughtiness that rendered Nathaniel no more convinced of that statement than Tennant had obviously been minutes earlier! ‘But no less deserving of a gentleman’s protection, surely?’ He fell into step beside her.

Elizabeth looked at him sharply, the earl’s features becoming clearer as they approached the candlelit house, harsh and uncompromising features that she found wholly disturbing to her already troubled peace of mind. ‘The only person from whom I have needed protection this evening was you, my lord!’ she sniffed.

‘All evidence to the contrary, Elizabeth—it has been my experience so far in our acquaintance that you are more than capable of protecting yourself,’ Nathaniel muttered with feeling.

She eyed him disdainfully. ‘Perhaps that is as well.’ The front door was duly opened by the butler, allowing the two of them to step inside out of the cooling night air. ‘If you will excuse me, my lord?’ Elizabeth kept her eyes demurely lowered in front of the butler. ‘Mrs Wilson will be anxiously awaiting Hector’s return.’

Nathaniel stood in the hallway, watching through narrowed lids as Elizabeth ascended the staircase accompanied by the scampering dog, making a note to speak to his aunt tomorrow as to exactly what she did or did not know about the young lady she had so recently employed.

‘I will take brandy in the library now, if you please, Sewell,’ he instructed the butler distractedly.

‘Very good, my lord.’

Having settled himself beside the fire in the library, a much-needed glass of brandy in his hand, Nathaniel turned his thoughts to that strange encounter with Sir Rufus Tennant.