In the Arms of an Earl (15 page)

“He may know him, but, sadly, I am not acquainted with my brother’s many friends, madam.”

“Your brother lives in town, does he not?”

“Yes

in our father’s house, in Grosvenor Square.”

“Do not you live there, as well?”

He placed his glass on the table, resigned to her mother’s questioning. “No, I live at my family’s home in Shropshire.” He turned to Mr. Brooke. “Dornley Park is a half-day’s ride from Everhill.”

“Then you have fine neighbors,” her father replied.

“No doubt, it is a very large house?” Mrs. Brooke interjected.

“It’s rather small, I’m afraid. Hartleigh has the advantage. I don’t prefer large houses.” He smiled at Jane, who had remained frozen, her fork inches from her mouth.

“How many sons had your father, the late earl?”

Jane wondered if her mother would ever eat the untouched food on her plate. Her father, not four feet away, ate with utter relish, ignoring the conversation.

“There are three of us, madam.”

“Three sons! No girls at all. How fortunate! And what is your other brother?”

“I beg your pardon?”

She waved her fork at him like a tiny spear. “Are you the youngest?”

“Yes, madam. My brother Edwin has taken vows and lives in India.”

“Good heavens! All the way across the world in some desolate place. He must miss England, surely.”

“I think not. He has chosen a life of servitude amongst the poor. He is our eldest brother’s successor to our family title, but he has expressed his desire to remain as he is.”

“Such an incomprehensible man, your brother! What, to give up an earldom and a house in London, to work amongst the poor?”

“Some people prefer a life filled with purpose, Mamma.” Jane spoke up for the first time. Her mother’s foot tapped hers firmly beneath the table.

“And what of yourself, Colonel Blakeney? Now the war is over, what will you do?”

He flinched, but his response was polite. “I shall retire to the country.” He glanced at Jane, and she returned his smile, shyly at first, then, when he didn’t look away, more boldly.

“And how is a one-handed soldier going to take up farming, I don’t know!” her mother exclaimed.

Jane gasped in horror, and her father’s fork clattered to the floor. “There goes another one,” he murmured, and she wondered if he referred to a potential son-in-law or piece of cutlery. She pushed away from the table before anyone else could speak.

“Colonel Blakeney,” she said, more loudly than she’d intended, “Would you care to see our pond? I forgot to show it to you when we were outside.”

His face was as pleasant as usual, but his neck had flushed scarlet. He dabbed his lips with his napkin, and stood, bowing to her parents. “Dinner was lovely, Mrs. Brooke, sir.” He nodded at Jane. “Yes, Miss Brooke, I will join you.”

Desperate to escape, Jane walked out of the dining room, the colonel on her heels. She grabbed a shawl from the hook by the door, and he’d barely picked up his hat when she unceremoniously seized his hand and pulled him outside, slamming the door behind them. She couldn’t speak until they were several feet from the house.

“I’m so sorry,” she gasped at last, her eyes brimming with tears. “I can’t apologize enough…”

He led her off the path and behind a hedge, his shoulders shaking with silent mirth. She stared at him in surprise, not knowing whether to cry or give in to hysterical laughter. Either he was about to rail upon her mother’s tactless comments, or he was going to ask her to bring the cart and take him back to Weston.

“She is nothing of how you described, my dear Miss Brooke!
A one-handed soldier!
Oh, she is charming. Should I have mentioned my little place in the country has more than one hundred tenant farmers?”

Relief washed over her. “You’re not angry?”

“I’m not angry.” His face softened, and he released her hand, only to touch her shoulder. A thousand sparks lit inside her at his nearness. “I’m not here to impress your parents, Miss Brooke. I only came to see if you—” His words cut off, his gaze searching hers.

The warmth of his hand filtered through the thick shawl about her shoulders, and she leaned toward him instinctively.

“Jane! Gracious, child, where have you gone? Cook’s brought out the pudding. She made it especially for the colonel, though I fear it’s very soft, as I thought he’d have bad teeth. Jane!”

Her mother’s voice broke through the hazy reverie his closeness had inspired, and she stepped back. Before she considered the prudence of such an act, she took his hand and pulled him past the hedges and toward the road to Weston.

“She still believes I’m eight years old,” Jane explained at length, when her ungraceful trot slowed to a more leisurely walk. “We live such a quiet life, and she has little amusement besides making guests uncomfortable.”

He laughed. “It is a mother’s best wish to see all her children provided for.”

“Certainly, but my mother took it to an extreme, I’m afraid. My sisters were married within two years of each other, and Mamma was desperate to see me married alongside them. She sent me to Everhill to find a husband.” Her words hung in the air. If he’d intended to propose on Jeremy’s behalf, now would be the time.

“I’m glad she did.”

Their gazes locked. The blush warming her cheeks could spread all it wanted.
He’s here on his own
, her heart sang.
He is not here for Jeremy
.

“I’d never have learned that Mozart piece so well, but for you, Colonel Blakeney.”

She had refrained from speaking of the Parkers earlier, in case she reminded him of the dreadful incident at the ball. Too late, she realized she’d inadvertently given life to the memory of sitting beside him in the dark, her hand clasping his for hours as they’d played. A flush colored his cheeks, setting off their tawny color.

“I enjoyed teaching you what I could. You really should have a dedicated music master. Are there any in Weston?”

“I’m afraid not. I know the postmaster plays the violin. I asked him once about lessons, and he tossed my father’s letters at me.”

He threw his head back and laughed. She joined him, recalling her shock when she’d gathered the morning post spread about the garden.

“That’s a shame, Miss Brooke, for I think you’d flourish under the hands of a skilled teacher.”

An inflection in his voice sent a new wave of nervous excitement soaring through her. She shrugged. “My mother would consider it a waste of energy. If I’m too busy with music, I have no time to pursue a husband.” She rolled her eyes. He laughed.

“Is that what she wants for you? Even with both your sisters married?”

“Mamma is in competition with Lady Simpson, her great friend and rival.” She quirked an eyebrow. “Mamma hopes to have all her daughters married before Lady Simpson’s poor daughters.”

“And what are your dreams?”

Jane looked at the countryside around them. The hedgerows were dark green and thick, the hayfields waving in the breeze. The homely sounds of Weston drifted over the rustle of falling leaves from the great oak.

“This is where I’m happiest. My dream would be to stay here and play my music all day on a shiny, new pianoforte.” He smiled, and she laughed at herself. “I do want to marry someday. But it wouldn’t be for a man’s fortune, as my mother wishes. I would marry for love, just as my sisters have done.”

They stopped walking and faced each other. When she’d said the word
love
, she was looking straight into his eyes. She gulped and turned away, suddenly too aware she was an awkward young woman who’d never left her family for more than a month.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be in London, Miss Brooke,” he said at last, taking her hand. She stared down in mild shock at the broad fingers encompassing hers. “I’d consider it an honor if you’d condescend to write me. With your father’s approval, of course.”

Her pulse thudded so hard she could feel it in her throat. “I’m of age, Colonel Blakeney. If I write to you, it will be of my own choosing.”

He grinned. “Then I hope you will choose.”

She studied him to memorize every feature, every curve and shadow of his face. An eternity would pass before she’d see him again.

They resumed walking, her hand still locked with his. She concentrated on placing one foot before the other, as her mind reeled with jumbled thoughts and questions she hardly dared express. But mostly, she heard her own exuberant conscience rejoicing.

Despite her happiness, the ball and its miserable outcome still weighed heavily on her thoughts.

“Colonel Blakeney, I want you to know how distressed I was at the assembly ball.” She bit her lip, unsure of how to continue. He gave a slight frown.

“And I want you to know I saw to Mr. Parker’s just punishment for taking liberties. I doubt he will be so forward to any other young lady in the future.”

She longed to ask how he had punished Jeremy, but didn’t want to sound uncharitable. “Thank you, but I wanted you to know…” She struggled to phrase it right. “I didn’t want Mr. Parker to be the first…I mean, I didn’t want to kiss him. I was glad when you came upon us and…” She wanted to say,
rescued me,
but it didn’t sound very grown up, and she didn’t want him to think she was anything but grown up.

He sighed. “Mr. Parker has quite a lot to learn about controlling his desires. I regret he chose you on whom to practice.”

She could barely feel the ground beneath her feet. “It was nothing. I mean, I didn’t feel anything.” He was silent, and she began again. “I feel things, of course, but not…”

Confused, she withdrew her hand and turned away so he wouldn’t see her blush. He caught her elbow, making her face him again. “Miss Brooke, there’s no need to explain. I think I know what you’re trying to say.”

“You do?” She was glad, because she certainly didn’t.

“I pity Mr. Parker that his kiss was not more…inspiring and memorable.”

She didn’t know if he was teasing but laughed a little despite her remembered shame. “If his was the ideal of what a kiss ought to be, I don’t think I’ve missed much.”

The thrum of his pulse raced from his fingers to hers.

“And how was this infamous kiss performed?”

The fading sunlight gave her cover from his gaze. “It was…all over the place. His lips felt like a scurrying mouse, and I was the cheese.”

His rich laugh filled the air. “Show me.”

Without hesitation, she lifted his hand and imitated the kiss as best she could, though the first touch of his skin against her lips jolted her senses. Suddenly embarrassed, she released his hand and twisted her fingers in her skirt.

“It was like that.”

The amused look left his eyes.

“This is how it should have been,” he murmured.

His eyelids lowered as his lips skimmed her palm as lightly as air. The pressure increased until she gasped. Her limbs weakened in euphoria.

“Oh, I see,” she said faintly.

They resumed walking, and it was a few moments before she could even speak. “Does your business require you to come to Hampshire often?” she asked, once she was certain her soaring emotions were in check.

He hadn’t released her hand. The pressure of his fingers increased as they walked. She was so thrilled to touch him she didn’t even care if it was appropriate. She laced her fingers with his, and he squeezed them briefly.

“Not often, I’m afraid. In fact, I have a confession to make. I came here with the sole purpose of seeing you. Have I shocked you?”

It was as if she had never spoken before. She had to force her lips to move. “No, not at all.”

“I haven’t been happy for a long time, Miss Brooke, not since before the war. I thought my life would continue on its empty, lonely path.” He sighed. “And then I went to the home of my old friend and found you at midnight, playing my symphony.”

He stopped again, and she caught her breath, knowing in the furthest reaches of her mind something wonderful was about to happen—the impossible dream she had hardly dared consider was about to come true.

He released her hand and touched her cheek. His fingers brushed across her lips, which trembled.

“I was out of my mind when I discovered you’d gone. I did not know your thoughts…”

He struggled with his words, and she gazed at him in disbelief. Could it be possible his feelings were the same as hers?

“I wrote your father, requesting a visit to your home, so I could gauge your feelings.” He blanched when she didn’t respond. “Evidently, I’ve overstepped.”

“No. No, you haven’t.” She finally found her voice and clasped his hand between hers. He closed the foot or so of space between them. His eyes bored into hers until she had the feeling she was swimming in their dark depths.

“I will return to you, Jane. I should not be in London very long. Will you…will you see me again?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

She’d lost all feeling in her legs and wondered how she was even standing. She swayed dizzily away from him, and he caught her, placing both arms around her and drawing her naturally and gently against his chest. His heartbeat thudded beneath her ear, and she inhaled his scent. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, absorbing as much of him as she could while thinking she was right where she’d yearned to be since meeting him at the musicale.