HEALING THE EARL
CHAPTER ONE
The sigh that erupted from Hugh’s lips was a heavy one and he felt the full force of it escape from him. His shoulders dropped and he pushed himself back in his chair, closing his eyes and running one hand across his forehead.
“Brinsworth?”
He straightened at once, sighing inwardly this time as the door opened and his mother walked in, entirely unannounced.
“Yes, Mother?” Hugh did not lift himself from his chair, for this was now the third time that his mother had interrupted him that morning, and he was tired enough already. “You have something more to tell me?”
Lifting one eyebrow, he waited for her to speak, finding himself weary of her company even though she had only been in his home for two days thus far.
“I am aware, Brinsworth, that you are fatigued from last evening’s entertainment – whatever it was – but I must speak to you urgently about another matter.”
Hugh closed his eyes.
“Mother, whatever it is, I am certain that you can undertake it alone.”
“But I cannot!” she exclaimed, ignoring the fact that he was very pertinently making it obvious that he did not care for her company at present. “Your staff is not willing to do as I ask without speaking to you first, and I simply cannot have this matter left as it is.”
Realizing that had no choice butto listen to whatever it was she had to say, Hugh opened his eyes and pushed himself upright a little more in his seat. Gesturing to a chair, he waited for her to sit down
before he rose, eyeing the decanter of brandy in the corner of the room and wondering if it was a little too early for such things.
“Both the butler and the housekeeper are aware that I am the master of this house, Mother,” he said, mildly. “They cannot simply agree to whatever it is you are asking without first consulting with me.” He shrugged. “I would expect nothing less.”
“Nor would I, save for the fact that this is a particularly minor situation, and my wishes should be followed without hesitation!” came the sharp reply. “Surely not every little thing needs to be brought to you, Brinsworth! Your father never behaved in such a way.”
At the mention of his father, Hugh bristled. He had no eagerness to be considered anything like his father and certainly had no desire to be reminded of him. His father had been the reason he had gone to war in the first place, for it had been expressly against what the late Earl of Brinsworth had told him he could, and could not, do. Having felt that he had never lived up to his father’s expectations, Hugh had rebelled and done precisely what he had wanted – and had never seen his father again, for the man had passed away during Hugh’s time at war.
“I know you do not like to think of him, but he was your father,” Lady Brinsworth said, softly, her grey eyes – so like his own –looking back at him sympathetically. “He did care for you.”
Hugh bit back his harsh response and merely gave her a tight nod. With an effort, he turned his mind back to what they had previously been discussing. There was no need for him to consider his father in any detail, not when it brought him such great distress.
“What is it that you wanted, Mother?” he asked, feeling the tension in his frame slowly diminishing as she tilted her head and smiled at him gently, evidently glad that he had not wanted to discuss his father any longer. “What is troubling you now?”
Lady Brinsworth rose to her feet and, as she did so, Hugh found himself reaching for the decanter, swiftly pouring himself a small measure, and then swirling it around his glass, avoiding his mother’s sharp gaze.
“It is about the room designated for my companion,” she said, startling Hugh utterly. “I do not want her in a smallbedchamber for she is still the daughter of a Viscount and should be treated as such! Besides which, as you may recall, I have no intention of treating her as the companion I told her father I required.”
Hugh blinked rapidly, astonishment seizing him and making it difficult for him to say anything of any sense. A companion? Whatever was his mother speaking of? He had never heard of such a thing!
“Therefore, Iwish to allocate her a bedchamber, but the staff is insistent that you must be in full agreement before they will begin to prepare it,” his mother finished, frowning, and giving himself such an icy glare that Hugh was jolted out of his astonishment.
“Mother, I have no recollection of you ever speaking of a companion!” he exclaimed, as Lady Brinsworth sighed loudly, looking away from him with a roll of her eyes, evidently piqued at his lack of awareness. “A companion? Here in London?”
“Yes, Brinsworth!” his mother exclaimed, throwing up her hands as she shared her frustration in both expression and tone. “I have spoken to you of this at length! I have a companion coming to London who will be with me for the duration of the Season. Whilst she will be here to make certain that I have some company, my intention is to make certain that she enjoys the Season also.” This was more than Hugh could take in, and he lifted his brandy to his lips, taking a long sip in the hope that this might help shake him back into full composure. “You clearly have paid me no heed when I have spoken to you previously,” his mother continued, exasperated, the gentle lines on her forehead becoming more pronounced as she frowned at him. “Do you not recall any of this?”
Hugh shook his head slowly, the heat from the brandy beginning to help dissipate the shock which grasped at his heart.
“A companion,” he repeated, as his mother nodded. “You have hired a companion, even though I, your son, am with you at present.”
“As you are at the estate,” she replied, with a shake of her head. “But you are not the most enjoyable of company, Brinsworth,
as well you know.” She spread her hands. “And I have no intention of treating her as a companion, as I have already said. It was a requirement that her father stipulated, else he would not have permitted her to come.”
This first remark was not one which Hugh took well, although he had to admit quietly to himself that he knew what his mother meant. When he had been at war, she had lived here with her late husband and, thereafter, had endured the funeral and the grieving mostly alone. He had been absent, gone from her side, and had not heard the news of his father’s passing until a month after he had gone. Thereafter, his mother had lived in a quiet house, alone with her thoughts until he finally returned – but not as the son she knew. Instead of being amiable, jovial, and good-natured, Hugh knew that he had become quiet, dark-spirited, and morose. He could barely tolerate the company of any other person and, even though he was now returned from the war, he could not seem to rid himself of it. It dominated his thoughts, his dreams, and his quiet moments until he was quite sure that he would never be able to return to how he had once been. His mother had suffered too, in her own way, and with that came the guilt which still lingered in Hugh’s soul. Perhaps that was why he had agreed to come to London for the Season –although, of course, news that he would be able to assist the Duke of Abernyte in the war effort here in London itself had brought him a little more comfort.
“I have upset you now, have I not?”
His mother’s words pulled Hugh from his thoughts, and he drew in a sharp breath before looking back at his mother.
“You speak honestly, mother, as you have always done,” he told her, seeing the way that her eyes were searching his features for any hint of what he might truly be feeling at this moment. “I have not been the best of company and thought that in taking you to London as you requested, you would find yourself a little more content. Now, however, it appears that I have agreed to something more –something that I did not realize until this moment!” Lifting his brandy to his lips again, he threw back the rest of it in one smooth gulp, waiting until the first sensation had passed before he spoke again. “I
am to have an additional person in my house – someone I have never met and have never once been introduced to!”
“But you know that I have excellent judgment, do you not?” Lady Brinsworth retorted, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I have known of this girl for some time and, given that she could do with a little more enjoyment in her life, I thought it an excellent arrangement.”
“Girl?”
Hugh’s brows knotted for, in his mind’s eye, he had seen his mother’s companion as an older lady, perhaps one who had been living quietly with a decrepit father for a time and required some sort of financial support to live out the rest of her days. He had never once thought that it would be a young lady, for surely such ladies had requirements of their own!
Lady Brinsworth blew out an exasperated breath.
“I do not mean to say that she is a girl of fifteen or the like, Brinsworth, but rather that she is not in any way old. She is still the perfect age for society, certainly. I was not surprised to hear that she has never been in London, for her father is something of an ogre and would never have thought to do such a thing.”
Closing his eyes, Hugh drew in a deep breath.
“You are trying to tell me, mother, that the companion, whom you are to pay for, could well take part in the London Season without any difficulty?”
“Oh, yes, indeed!” This, for whatever reason, brought a broad smile to Lady Brinsworth’s face, although Hugh remained frowning. “Her father would not be so accommodating if he knew of my intentions, but I am hopeful that she will have a pleasant London Season rather than simply being forced to trail around in my wake, as so many other companions do. The girl needs a good match, and I might be just the one to provide her with such a thing.” She smiled warmly up at Hugh and the look on her face forced his frustration away. “Now, the bedchamber?”
There was much to think about in this particular statement, but Hugh did not have the inclination to consider it any further. Whatever his mother wanted to do, she would do, regardless of
whether or not he agreed! Sighing, Hugh waved a hand and then picked up the decanter again for what would be his second measure.
“I will make certain that the housekeeper knows that you are free to do as you wish as regards your companion,” he said heavily, turning away so that he would not have to watch the way his mother bounded towards the door in such evident triumph. “Oh - Mother, what is the name of this young lady?”
He waited as Lady Brinsworth reached the door, began to turn the handle and then, finally, glanced back towards him.
“She is Miss Clara Lockhart,” his mother said, clearly. “She is the daughter of Viscount Coleshill.”
“I see.” The name meant nothing to him, although the way his mother’s eyes darkened at the mention of the Viscount interested him. “And you do not care much for her father?”
A snort of disdain left his mother’s lips, and she tossed her head.
“I was closely acquainted with Lady Coleshill,” she said, snapping her head back towards Hugh, her eyes flashing. “She was a gentle creature, with love and affection for all that she knew. During our three London Seasons together, we became very dear friends. Her marriage to Lord Coleshill was arranged, but she thought to make the best of it. I wrote to her faithfully over the next five years and, whilst she returned my letters, there was a darkness which began to creep into her replies. When I finally was able to visit, I found my friend a shadow of what she had been.” Her jaw worked furiously for a moment and Hugh’s frown lifted, seeing just how strongly his mother felt, and realizing the pain which still tore at her on speaking of her late friend. “My dear friend was afraid of her husband. He cared nothing for her but expected her to do everything he asked without question, whilst caring nothing about whether or not it might pain her, or trouble her to do so. I believe that she tried many times to provide him with the second required son but, when she finally did bear a second child, it proved to be a girl rather than the expected boy.” She spread her hands, her eyes now a little glassy. “I do not think that she ever recovered after that.”
Hugh swallowed, suddenly feeling rather guilty about his frustration and irritation towards his mother. She was, in her way, trying to do a good thing and Hugh had to admire her for that.
“It will be no trouble to have Miss Lockhart here,” he said, humbly, seeing his mother look away, clearly wanting to hide her tears from him. “I am sorry for speaking harshly, Mother. I do not recall you ever speaking to me about a companion, but that does not mean that you did not do so.” He smiled and shrugged. “It only means that I did not pay you the attention I ought. Tell me, when does she arrive?”
Lady Brinsworth looked back at him, her eyes still a little red, but a smile now on her face.
“Tomorrow afternoon,” she told him, quietly. “Thank you for your understanding, Brinsworth. It does mean a great deal to me, especially when I know that you have your own troubles.”
Hugh waved a hand carelessly, not wanting to allow himself to think on his own trials at present.
“I will speak to my staff at once, mother,” he said, seeing her grateful smile. “You may give Miss Lockhart whatever room you think best. Any arrangements that must be made for her, I leave solely in your care.”
“Thank you, Brinsworth.”
Smiling back at her, Hugh waited until she had left the room before striding back towards his chair and sinking into it. Before his mother arriving, he had been busy thinking about what he might do regarding a particular matter pertaining to the war, but now all he could think of was this unknown Miss Lockhart, and the new situation her presence would bring. He had been expecting the Season to be a somewhat quiet one in society, but now, it seemed, he would have both his mother and Miss Lockhart preparing themselves for all manner of occasions and, no doubt, speaking to him in great detail and at great length about each and every one. And his mother was hoping that Miss Lockhart would make a match. Grimacing, Hugh ran one hand over his eyes and let out a long, heavy breath. It made sense for his mother to hope for such a thing, given that the girl was otherwise going to be left to return to her
father’s care eventually. It would be best for her if she did find a husband, for then she would be removed from what sounded to be a very poor situation indeed. Hugh had to admit that his mother’s care and consideration for others was something to be admired and he, for his part, was willing to do all that he could to support that.
“Miss Clara Lockhart.”
He spoke her name slowly as if doing so would encourage some sort of idea of her character in his thoughts. His mind drew pictures of her, wondering if she was a bright, vivacious character, who would be all the more eager to throw aside the darkness of where she had been living for so long, and instead would step forward into the light, embracing it entirely. A small smile pulled at his lips, and he sat forward in his chair, pushing his mind back towards other matters. Regardless of her character, Hugh was quite certain that his mother would do all that she could to aid the lady. Just so long as his mother did not push her towards him, Hugh would be tolerant of the lady’s company.
Clearing his throat, Hugh reached across to ring the bell, recalling that he had promised his mother that he would speak to the staff about her bedchamber requirements. Thereafter, he would have to return his full attention to the letters which had been received from other gentlemen working near the coast. Both he and the Duke of Abernyte – as well as one or two others – were involved in making certain that a French invasion did not take place. England’s shores were a trifle unguarded in places and, given the threat from those within society who wished for France’s victory, Hugh knew that he could not permit himself to lose focus on the seriousness of the matter, regardless of what was happening with his mother. There were too many enemies hiding in the shadows all about him, and Hugh was not about to forget the responsibilities which now fell upon him. Yes, he was gone from the field of war but here, there was still work to be done. England still had to be protected from the French, and those who supported their enemy had to be discovered and punished.
Hugh pushed away all thought of the young lady and the opportunity for her to be presented to society. No matter how lovely
she might be, how beautiful her features, nor how genteel her nature, Hugh could not allow himself to be distracted by her. Not even for a moment.
CHAPTER TWO
Clara looked up at the grand townhouse and swallowed hard. The journey to London had not been an easy or a pleasant one, for the heavens had opened just as she had been ready to depart her father’s house and had not stopped in the days it had taken her to arrive. Even now, the rain still fell, splashing in small puddles all around her.
“Please, my Lady, if you would.”
She pulled her gaze back from the impressive facade, a little surprised to see a footman offering her his arm. Blinking, she took it carefully and was then quickly led indoors, with the footman making certain that she did not slip on the wet stone. She had not had time to truly take in the great house, had not allowed herself the opportunity to fully look up at its stone pillars and large windows. Instead, she had been hurried inside and now stood within, feeling herself shirking inwardly as she realized just how bedraggled she must look.
“Might I take your things, my Lady?”
Turning to the butler, Clara reluctantly began to remove her bonnet, knowing full well that her hair would be in a sorry state. It was only then, her hands stilling on her ribbons, that she was interrupted by the sound of a loud voice coming towards her.
“I hardly think such a thing would be fair,” she heard a man say, her stomach twisting as she dropped her hands in front of her, clasping them tightly. “I should expect grave consequences, even if he is –”
The voice stopped and Clara lifted her gaze meekly, seeing two gentlemen before her. Both had stopped walking and conversing and
were now looking at her with curious interest, although one wore a small, encouraging smile which she could not help but return.
“Good afternoon.” One of the men came forward – the man who did not wear a smile. “And you might be?”
Swallowing, Clara dropped into a curtsey.
“Good afternoon, my Lord,” she replied, keeping her gaze low and feeling heat pool in her cheeks as the weight of his studying gaze landed on her shoulders. “I am Miss Clara Lockhart, daughter of Viscount Coleshill. I have arrived at the behest of your mother, I believe.” She prayed silently that she was correct in assuming that this man was, in fact, the Earl of Brinsworth. “I have only just arrived.”
“That is why you have not been informed, my lord,” the butler added, bowing his head. “I would have done so at once, had I had the opportunity.”
“But of course,” Lord Brinsworth murmured, as Clara dared a look up at him. “My mother told me of your impending arrival, but I confess, I quite forgot.”
Clara did not smile, finding her heart a little troubled at this remark and feeling all the more embarrassed. The Earl was, it seemed, less than eager to have her present, and certainly did not seem to give her even a momentary consideration! Her arrival had not been worth remembering, it seemed, and for that, Clara felt quite ashamed.
You are a companion now, she told herself, as the other gentleman came forward. You should notexpect to be treated with anyformofdistinction.
“Daughter to Viscount Coleshill, did you say?”
Clara looked up at the second gentleman, nodding.
“Yes, my Lord.”
She had no knowledge of who this man was but, she considered, he had a kind expression and gentle manner which she appreciated.
“I believe that I am acquainted with your brother,” the man continued after she had confirmed. “He is wed now, is he not?”
She nodded.
“Yes, my Lord. With two children also.”
“Two!” The man looked astonished, although he chuckled quickly. “He has been making certain that he has his heir, I see.”
A slight flush burned on her cheeks.
“Yes, my Lord.”
“In fact, Miss Lockhart, this would be YourGrace.”
Clara looked back at the Earl, confusion knotting her brow.
“I – I beg your pardon, my Lord?”
The Earl gestured to the second gentleman.
“This man is referred to as ‘Your Grace’,” he explained, as the heat in Clara’s cheeks rose all the more. “He is the Duke of Abernyte, you understand.”
There was nothing for her to do but to drop into another curtsey, feeling utterly mortified. She had been addressing the Duke incorrectly and thus he must think her quite ridiculous.
“I do beg your pardon, Your Grace, I did not –”
“Come now, Miss Lockhart, there is no need for apology,” the Duke interrupted, as Clara’s apologies continued to fall readily from her lips. “Pray, do not trouble yourself. It was not your doing and, in fact, Lord Brinsworth here should consider himself to be at fault, given that he has not even introduced me until this far into the conversation!”
He shot a hard look towards the Earl and Clara was surprised to see the faint hint of irritation in the Duke’s eyes.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she murmured, wondering now if she should ever be introduced to Lady Brinsworth, given that she was to be her companion. “When I next write to my brother, I shall make sure to mention that I have met you, for I am certain that he will be glad to hear of it.”
She did not often write to her brother nor he to her, but Clara was quite determined that she would do so now. Whilst her brother might not think of her very often, perhaps news from London would remind him of her and of her current circumstances. Not that she expected him to give a fig for her situation, of course, for he was very much inclined towards the same lack of care and consideration which her father displayed.
“Indeed, indeed,” Lord Brinsworth muttered, waving a hand. “His Grace was just about to take his leave.” Making his way past Clara, he caught her arm for a moment, making her flinch, although it was not done with any undue harshness. “Remain there, Miss Lockhart. I have some more things to discuss with you before you make your way to your room.”
She nodded, dropping her head, and feeling herself all the more diminished by his clear lack of respect towards her. He had not asked her to linger, had not politely suggested that she do so, but had, instead, simply ordered her to wait as he might do one of his servants.
This is a paid position, she reminded herself, closing her eyes tightly for a few moments. Mayhapthatishowheseesyou.Opening her eyes, Clara allowed herself a prolonged glance at both gentlemen, taking them in together. They were almost as tall as each other, with the Duke only a fraction taller, but both gentlemen were fine in their appearance. The cut of their clothes spoke of refinement and opulence, and she was certain that everything they wore would be more than fashionable. Tilting her head, she considered the Earl of Brinsworth, wondering if his morose and somewhat dark expression would change should he have cause to smile. His hair was pulled to one side, notes of brown and red running through it and, whilst his square jaw and dark grey eyes made him appear somewhat intimidating, Clara thought that he might appear a little more likable should he permit his murky expression to lift even a little. This thought had her dropping her eyes again, closing them tightly as she forced all thought of Lord Brinsworth’s expression from her mind. There was no requirement for her to even thinkof him in such a way, not when she had made such a poor impression upon him already, given her appearance.
“It was very good to meet you, Miss Lockhart.”
Opening her eyes, Clara blushed furiously as the Duke bowed towards her, realizing that he had come back specifically to take his leave of her. A small swell of happiness in her chest began to lift her spirits just a fraction as the Duke smiled at her, his gentle eyes encouraging her all the more.
“As it was you, Your Grace,” she answered, lifting from her curtsey. “Thank you for such a warm welcome.”
The Duke chuckled, clearly aware of what she meant by such a remark. Clara’s cheeks remained hot, but she did not take back what she had said, knowing that the man understood just how unwelcoming and, indeed, discouraging, Lord Brinsworth had been.
“I am sure that you will settle into this house very quickly,” he told her, his voice warm. “Lady Brinsworth is quite an interesting character, and I am certain that she will bring you quite a bit of excitement during the London Season. And mayhap, when we are next at an occasion together, we might be able to step out for a dance?”
His questioning look brought Clara a thrill of excitement and, at the same time, a heavy weight dropping into her heart.
“I am not certain that I will be permitted to…” She closed her eyes. “That is to say, I am not certain that Lady Brinsworth would like me to dance.”
“Oh, I am certain that she will.”
As Clara opened her eyes, she saw a brightness in the Duke’s expression which told her more about Lady Brinsworth than anything that had been said of her before. A small swell of hope rose in her chest, and she found herself smiling back at the Duke, thinking to herself that he appeared to be the kindest of gentlemen – which only made her impression of Lord Brinsworth darken all the more. She watched as the Duke made his way to the front door of the house, saying a few more things to Lord Brinsworth before he finally took his leave – and Clara’s tension rose in the very next instant. Lord Brinsworth turned on his heel and came marching back towards her, his eyes a little more hooded than before. His jaw tightened, his gaze roved over her and Clara, once more, felt that biting sense of shame that she was so poor in her appearance.
“My mother is not at home at present,” he told her, as Clara dropped her head, feeling as if she were nothing more than a mere servant before him. “When she arrives, I will have you introduced.” Clearing his throat, he spread out one hand towards the butler, who
had been waiting patiently for Clara’s things. “Your bonnet, mayhap?”
Flushing, Clara untied the ribbons and handed her bonnet and gloves to the waiting butler, all too aware of just how lackluster her hair must be at present. It had been sitting under a bonnet for far too long and, given that she had been sitting in a carriage for many days, Clara felt dirty and disheveled. She dared not look at Lord Brinsworth for fear of what would be in his expression and instead, she kept her head lowered and waited for him to tell her what she ought to do next.
“I understand that my mother has hired you as a paid companion, Miss Lockhart,” Lord Brinsworth began, as Clara nodded. “That is not, however, what will be expected of you.”
Clara lifted her head suddenly, looking back at him with wide, uncertain eyes. What was it her father had placed upon her? If she was not to be companion, then what would she be expected to do?
Lord Brinsworth sighed and ran one hand over his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as if distressed.
“My mother was acquainted with your late mother, Miss Lockhart,” he said, as Clara caught her breath in astonishment. “She wants to make certain that you are not entirely neglected, for she has heard that your father is less than considerate.” He shrugged and Clara looked away, mortified that news of her situation had made it to his ears. “It will be required of you to make certain that my mother has company and conversation whenever she needs it.” Sighing, he shook his head. “I am not inclined towards lengthy conversations about gowns and society, Miss Lockhart, so I must pray that you are, in my stead.”
“I am certain that I can do so, my Lord,” she murmured, but Lord Brinsworth immediately shook his head, making her fear that she had made some sort of misstep. This was a most peculiar situation, for she had never known before that Lady Brinsworth had known her mother. What was it that Lady Brinsworth expected of her? Did she hope that, in being her companion, Clara might enjoy a few weeks of society which, in her old age, she might look back on with delight?
“I am not sure of exactly what it is that my mother intends, but I am certain that she will make all things plain to you, Miss Lockhart,” Lord Brinsworth interrupted, as if he had heard her thoughts. “Tell me, have you been to London before?” Darting a glance up at him, Clara shook her head, wordlessly. “I see.” Lord Brinsworth’s eyes narrowed, taking her in again and studying her for some moments without a word. Clara remained silent, finding the courage within herself to look back at him as he studied her. She felt uncomfortable in his presence, uncertain and unsure, especially given the fact that he gave her no indication of what he was thinking. “You will find London quite overwhelming, Miss Lockhart.” Lord Brinsworth’s tone was brittle, his eyes hard. “There are many within it who like nothing better than taking apart one’s life and throwing it asunder, in as many different pieces as they can.”
“I see.” Clara looked away from him, not quite certain what he meant, but seeing in his expression, and hearing in his voice, a great disdain for the society she was about to enter. “I shall be cautious and act upon every instruction, my Lord.”
His grey eyes swirled like thunderclouds.
“Make sure that you do,” he gritted out, appearing to be all the more grave, although Clara still did not know the reasons for such an expression. “There are more dangers within society than many are aware of, Miss Lockhart – and particularly with someone such as you, who has such innocence when it comes to the ton.”
She tried not to allow her embarrassment to take too much of a hold on her, forcing a smile to her lips which she did not truly feel.
“I quite understand, my Lord.”
“Good.” His expression did not lift, did not change, and Clara found herself dropping her gaze, not wanting to look into his dark expression any longer.
“You will, of course, be guided by my mother when it comes to the ton. She is, after all, the one who is to guide you through London society.” Sighing again, he shook his head. “Although given that this will be your debut, I –”
“My debut?” Clara stared at him, hardly able to breathe as she saw the answering frown.
“Yes, Miss Lockhart, have I not made myself clear? You are to have a Season.” Blinking rapidly, Clara pressed one hand to her heart, feeling it thunder furiously as she tried to take in what he had said. “It seems that my mother has always intended for you to have a Season, rather than simply appearing as her companion, Miss Lockhart,” Lord Brinsworth continued, waving a hand as if to say that she ought to have expected such a thing. “As I have said, she was acquainted with your mother and is eager to make certain that you have an opportunity to make a good match.”
Clara shook her head, unable to take this news in. Everything she had anticipated, everything she had believed about her future was suddenly thrown aside, leaving her with a new reality that seemed to blossom with hope. She wanted to laugh and to cry at the same time – only for a sudden thought to hit her full force. With wide eyes, she stared at Lord Brinsworth, fear building with every passing second.
“My father,” she whispered, her face paling, “he does not know of her intentions?”
“I do not believe so.” Lord Brinsworth’s eyes darkened, and his brows drew low over his eyes as he studied her. “You need not have any concern, however. My mother will make certain that, should anything come of a particular acquaintance, he is made fully aware of it.”
Clara wanted to cry that this was not what she was concerned about but that rather she feared what his response to her doing so would be. No doubt Lord Coleshill would be angry that she was in London for a Season rather than as a companion, for he had never thought her worthy of such a thing in the first place. In addition, any gentleman who might want to pursue her – should there be one in all of London – would then have to secure her father’s consent, and Clara did not think that he would be likely to give it. It was better for him for her to be a paid companion rather than a bride, for then he would be able to receive whatever money she brought in and would be able, in addition, to keep hold of her dowry.
A hand touched her arm and she started violently, only to see Lord Brinsworth looking back at her steadily, no frown on his face
now.
“I suppose you should like to rest for a time, Miss Lockhart, before you are introduced to my mother?” he asked, his voice far more gentle than before. “You must be fatigued. Forgive me for keeping you here so long.”
Clara nodded, relieved that the conversation with Lord Brinsworth appeared to be over and that she would now have time to consider what had been said.
“I will have one of the maids show you to your room.” Making his way to one of the open doors, Clara heard Lord Brinsworth say something and, the very next moment, a small young lady scuttled out, quickly bobbing a curtsey in front of Clara.
“This way, my Lady.”
Following the maid up the staircase, Clara resisted the urge to look over her shoulder, for she felt quite certain that Lord Brinsworth was still watching her. She could practically feel his eyes on her back and, feeling a trickle of perspiration run down her back, blushed with shame. No doubt she had made a very poor first impression and, in doing so, would have Lord Brinsworth all the more frustrated with her entrance into his busy London life. She could only pray that all that he had said of his mother was true and that she might find herself enjoying her time in London.
Notas acompanionbutas ayoungladyofsociety, making her comeout.
The words in her mind spun all manner of furious emotions deep within her and Clara had to catch her breath, feeling a trifle faint as she reached the top of the staircase. Holding onto the rail with both hands, she bent forward and took in long steadying breaths, hearing the murmured concern of the maid but having no ability to answer her. It was all too much to bear. The concerns about what her father would say, about whether or not she would have any gowns at all suitable for the events she might need to attend, and the opportunity now to free herself from the dark future her father had laid out for her, all began to enter Clara’s heart at once. She found her eyes closing tightly and had to force herself to breathe with great slowness.
Compelled by the weakness in her limbs to seat herself down on the top step of the staircase itself, Clara leaned forward and put her head on her arms, feeling the maid rub her back gently. After a few minutes, her strength began to return, and Clara managed to open her eyes, her vision a little blurred. She saw a figure at the bottom of the staircase, looking up, and knew it to be Lord Brinsworth. All the more ashamed of herself and her poor behavior, Clara closed her eyes once more, taking in one final, long breath before she rose to stand.
And when she opened her eyes again, Lord Brinsworth was gone.
“A
CHAPTER THREE
nd how is Miss Lockhart settling in?”
Hugh lifted one eyebrow and then rolled his eyes.
“It has been two days since you were first introduced,” he stated, as the Duke grinned. “I do not know how well she is doing as I have not yet asked her. In fact, I have barely even seen the lady.”
The Duke chuckled, shaking his head at Hugh.
“You know what I will say,” he replied, as Hugh grimaced. “You are not the most welcoming of gentlemen and I am afraid that you frightened that poor creature half out of her wits!”
“I did no such thing,” Hugh stated, firmly, ignoring the flicker of guilt that entered his heart at the Duke’s words. “Miss Lockhart is quite well, I am sure.”
What he did not mention to the Duke of Abernyte was that he had found himself rather concerned for Miss Lockhart, on seeing her almost collapse on the staircase once he had dismissed her. Had the maid not been with her then, he would have immediately hurried up to her, but when a second maid had joined them, he had chosen to step away. He had done so out of the realization that he had, first of all, most likely been the cause of her weariness when he should have encouraged her to rest at the very first moment after she had arrived, and that he had also behaved in a somewhat intimidating fashion.
He had not meant to be so, of course, but the fact that his mother’s companion had arrived at a time when Lady Brinsworth had been out of the house had been something of an irritation, and he had allowed himself to speak out of that frustration. And on top of all of that, Hugh had to admit that he had been in something of a depression that morning, even with the Duke’s company. His head
