The Cheer in Charming an Earl (The Naughty Girls) (10 page)

They managed dinner without incident. To her grudging enchantment, Lord Chelford led the conversation along pleasant subjects, even drawing a laugh from her with his disenchanted description of Almack’s. Given that she’d passed the last five years of her life pining for an invitation to its hallowed halls, that was quite the accomplishment, indeed.

“And what is Gloucester like?” he asked her after all that was left of her crème brûlée dessert was a sticky puddle of syrup.

She reached for her wine glass. Unlike the last time they’d dined together, she’d been careful not to let her cup be refilled. “I
adore
Gloucester,” she hyperbolized, for she nonetheless was feeling the wine’s loosening effects. “You cannot imagine how satisfying it is to always know exactly what to expect.”

“Or how dull that would be,” he inferred, drawing another smile from her. “Complacency is the death of delight.”

She adored the ring of truth in that. Nonetheless, she didn’t want to seem so downhearted that he found her pitiable. “It’s not all bad, my lord. The country can be charming, and I was never lonely. I had my sisters.”

“But you did want to make your debut, I imagine. Be presented at court, and cast your fellow debutantes in shadow. Sift your fingers through a bucket of calling cards and choose one at random, just to be disagreeable to the other hostesses.” He smiled rakishly. “All young ladies do.”

She turned to him so quickly she almost planted her bosom in her empty dessert plate. She was about to agree effusively when de Winter withdrew a thin cheroot from a case and rolled it between his forefinger and thumb. “I’d no idea you’d put so much thought into your debut, Chelford.”

A shadow swept across Grantham’s face. Elinor forgot about everything: the Season she’d never experience, her lack of a trousseau, the bucket of calling cards she could only daydream about. She saw only Grantham’s pain. Clearly, he’d known what she’d longed for because he’d heeded his sister’s rapturous planning for her own come-out.

Elinor stole her hand across his. Briefly, she brushed her fingertips over his knuckles. “I would have loved it.”

He stared at the place where their skin had touched. By degrees, he splayed his hand across the fine woven tablecloth. “She would have, too.”

De Winter lit his cheroot using a nearby candle, then held his mother of pearl case toward Aunt Millie. “Cheroot, madam?”

“Why not? I know I said I wouldn’t, but it seems we shall all relish the past tonight.” She selected one and brought it to her curved lips. When she rested her hand on the back of de Winter’s chair and tilted her body toward his, Elinor didn’t mistake the invitation in her aunt’s eyes.

Nor did de Winter. He cupped Aunt Millie’s chin and touched the glowing tip of his cheroot to hers. It crackled to life. “Is madam satisfied?” he murmured.

“Perhaps.” Again the
s
lingered, full of possibility.

Their little performance worked to turn the topic. Although, Elinor wasn’t entirely sure it was entirely put on. De Winter’s submission was especially suspect. It wasn’t that Aunt Millie was beautiful, for she wasn’t. She kept her figure trim and her fiery hair piled in a modern style, but even as a young woman, she wouldn’t have been lovely. Her nose was too bold and her bones too sturdy. But she believed de Winter should want her, and so he did, or at least, he was willing to pretend as much. Elinor was enthralled.

“The thing I like about you, Chelford,” Aunt Millie said to Grantham as she savored a long draw of tobacco smoke, “is your generosity. All of these women whom you invite to holiday, Undesirables who have nowhere else to go. What is it you want in return? I don’t think you are the pleasure-seeking type, not anymore.”

“Aunt Millie!” Elinor exclaimed. How impolite!

Her aunt
shushed
her with an arc of her cheroot. “No need to be prudish. We are all friends here, aren’t we?”

“For better or worse, madam,” de Winter agreed. Amusement played in the flames of his eyes. “Let’s hear more about Chelford’s pleasure-seeking ways.”

Grantham pushed away his wine glass and sat back in his chair. He, too, watched Aunt Millie with subtle amusement. “You’re doing an admirable job of calling me to task, Mrs. Rebmann. Yes, I’ve been a blackguard. I don’t deny it, for there is no point. But that’s just the trouble. There
is
no point in debauchery. Rather, I’ve learned that
this
pleases me.” He motioned at the people seated around him. “Seeing Chelford House used as it was meant to be. I have no cousins and my only sister, my beloved sister, died. But this is a house meant to be shared with others. A dozen rooms standing empty. A dining room that can seat an army.” He caught Elinor’s gaze with such heat, she lost herself in it.

Oh, dear. Grantham wanted a
family
.

“When I die,” he continued, “this estate reverts to the Crown. Or, it can pass to my children. The irony of it is, by using this place as I’ve seen fit, I shall
have
no children to pass it to.”

A drip of wax ran down one candle. It hardened over a buttress of similarly condemned wax and turned pale. No other movement marred the moment.

Grantham wanted a family.

Elinor couldn’t look away. Not even when Aunt Millie’s husky voice broke the silence. “Lord de Winter offered to show me the gardens. I find myself suddenly overcome by a desire to witness this moonlit magic for myself.”

She pushed back from the table. Grantham and de Winter leapt to their feet. “No!” Elinor protested, but Lord de Winter moved behind her aunt to assist her from her chair. “Allow me, Mrs. Rebmann. No, no need for your wrap. I promise to keep you warm, should the need arise.”

With that outlandish suggestion, Elinor’s aunt and Grantham’s friend disappeared, leaving Elinor and Grantham very, very much alone.

Elinor suddenly stood.

GRANTHAM COULD have strangled de Winter. Leave him alone with Miss Conley? Even if her aunt
was
forward-thinking, she provided at least the
pretense
of an obstruction between himself and his baser urges.

He reached for his wine glass. “We seem to have lost our chaperones. Or do you prefer to follow them? Lord de Winter didn’t exaggerate. The gardens are undeniably magical at night.”

Elinor’s head whipped around. A gasp parted her lips. After that…

Just her wide blue eyes searching his. Oh, how he adored her guilelessness.

“In more usual circumstances,” he said, twirling the stem of his wine glass between his fingers, “I’d insist upon it. I have no desire to be caught in a compromising position. But as you have plenty to condemn me with already, I see no reason to be propriety’s slave if we prefer to stay warm inside.”

Her bosom leapt as if she’d drawn a sharp breath. “Do you trust me so thoroughly, Lord Chelford?”

His brow dipped as he considered whether he did. “I hadn’t thought of it that way, but I suppose I do.”

“Oh,” she said quietly. Then she sank into her seat.

He watched her scratch spirals against her dessert plate with the tine of her fork. “Is something amiss?” he asked. It wasn’t a trick of the waning candlelight; she’d gone pale.

Her gaze didn’t leave the plate. “No, my lord. And…thank you.”

Intuition told him something
was
wrong, but just as strongly cautioned him against pressing. Still, he couldn’t leave the topic wholly alone. “The pleasure is mine. I
am
sorry you met my accomplices. I hazard to say we would have started off much better had I never invited the sorry lot of them to Chelford.”

She turned the wane color of candle wax. Then a furious blush crept across her face. Poor darling. If only he’d known she was coming when she did, he would have gone about things differently. But the past couldn’t be undone, and besides, until her arrival, he hadn’t realized the extent of his revulsion for the life he’d lived since the passing of his sister. He’d needed her in order to see it.

Her gaze finally lifted. “You’re not in the wrong, my lord. What a man does in his own house is his business alone. You shouldn’t have to fear strange creatures descending on you without warning.”

He chuckled at that. “Strange creatures? No, Miss Conley, there is nothing strange about you. You’re an angel. In fact, I believe you have delivered me.”

She hunched even nearer to her plate. “A man is allowed his peccadilloes. You shouldn’t feel remorse for doing only what is expected of you.”

He sat up straighter. “I’m sure you don’t mean to offend, but I don’t think I like that depiction. Is patent debauchery
expected
of me? Am I so despicable?”

She looked up. Her head cocked as if she were considering his question with her usual wholesomeness. “
I
didn’t expect it of you,” she admitted. “To be perfectly honest, it never occurred to me that you’d be…” She blushed deeper. “Experienced.”

The word sent fire through his loins. It shouldn’t have. Not when they were talking about what they were talking about.

He needed to turn the subject. “At any rate, you shouldn’t have been exposed to such vulgar people as my guests. I promise in the future to maintain an impeccable household.”

“Oh,” she said, wide-eyed. He was beginning to realize it was her version of speechlessness.

He couldn’t help teasing her. “You would, of course, find that to your liking? My reformation?”

She shrank away. “Please, my lord, don’t rehabilitate yourself for me. It certainly wasn’t your fault that I descended on Chelford at that particular time.” She swallowed thickly.

He couldn’t bear her taking any more blame upon herself. “Nor was it yours! Your brother’s equipment was in deplorable condition. You’re only lucky you survived. In fact, I’ve come to think of our meeting as something of a godsend.”

She blanched again. With one fell gulp, the last of her wine disappeared.

Pure thoughtlessness on his part; he shouldn’t have reminded her of that horrid ordeal. “The truth is,” he said, moving his chair so they were almost side by side, “I detest Christmastide. Your presence has made it survivable for the first time. But I’m embarrassed. My mother would be disappointed in me if she knew what I’ve been up to. And my sister…I’m sure I don’t have to explain that Hannah wouldn’t have known what to do with my poor manners.”

Miss Conley’s grip on her fork whitened her knuckles. “She would have loved you.”

“Of course she would have.” He gently pried Miss Conley’s fingers from the warm silver and set it beside her plate. Then he smoothed his hand over hers, savoring the silkiness of her skin and the race of her pulse beneath his thumb. “But would I have been
deserving
of such unconstrained adoration? She might have been a mother today. Instead, I failed her.” It was his turn to swallow past the lump in his throat.
This
was why he invited Lord Scotherby, Mariah and the lot of them to Chelford. Christmas was the time of year when he was sure to remember his sister in vivid detail. ’Twas the season of her death, when all the world returned home and he was left alone. If only he’d
known
she’d intended to climb into the hayloft. If only she’d better understood the nature of fire, and the danger of straw waiting to be turned to tinder beneath her feet. Only if he, Grantham, had realized just how determined a young girl could be when presented with the unreliable regard of a man several years older. If he had foreseen her decision to shadow the groom with a lit candle in her hand…

He might have saved her.

“Do you think often of Lady Hannah?” Miss Conley’s blue eyes were worried. She slipped her hand from his and her fingers danced across the white tablecloth, just out of his reach.

“It can’t be helped,” he admitted. “I adored her. She was my only surviving family, and I failed to save her. It all happened too fast.”

Miss Conley set her hands in her lap, then clasped them. Because she didn’t want him to touch her again? Or because he made her pulse race? “I still feel I owe you an apology,” she said.

He laughed outright. An apology? As if anything she could do could change the outcome of his life.

But perhaps there was
one
thing. He pushed away from the table and the buffet of memories being served upon it. “Don’t. I’m glad you’re here, for you make me remember there is one very
nice
thing about Christmastide. I believe I still have two berries left.”