Page 24 of A Gifted Earl

Lady Hardenwell was smiling, and Venetia suspected that her mother’s hopefulness was even greater than her own.

They joined the other dancers forming up, and only then did she realise that it was to be a waltz - which filled her with both delight and consternation. To be held so close in a gentleman’s arms was a thrilling idea, yet it meant that he would be so very close that he could not help but see every detail of her scar, despite strategically placed curls, and the delicate application of face powder.

But… perhaps all would be well, for had they not just actually mentioned her scar, without him appearing in any way disconcerted?

The dance began, and Venetia found herself swept along with him, the steps coming easily. She looked up and met his eyes, their rich brown depths drawing her in, so that, for a moment, everything else seemed to fade away. They moved, carried by the music, without speaking at all, for what seemed like hours, although she knew it to be merely minutes. Eventually, however, he turned his eyes away from hers, almost as if a little uncomfortable. She felt the loss of that contact, intensely.

“Lady Venetia… you spoke, just now, of your scar, and the impact which it has had on how people treat you. Might I ask you a question?”

A shiver ran through her – was it wise to allow this conversation to proceed? Yet she could not really object, for she was the one who had first mentioned her scar.

“Yes, you may.”

They swirled around the floor, and he said nothing immediately, as if choosing his words with care. Every second of silence drove her nervousness higher, and she castigated herself for a fool to have allowed this conversation to happen. But she could not stop it now.

“Lady Venetia, how did you come by that scar? For it appears to me perhaps to be rather recent. If I pry too far, please tell me – you need not feed my curiosity unless you truly wish to.”

It was, absolutely, not the sort of question that a gentleman should ask a Lady! Yet she found herself not offended, somehow, because it was this man who asked. There was nothing prurient in his interest, nothing which spoke of a hope for a salacious gossip feeding tale – she had the impression that he was genuinely, simply, interested to know.

But that didn’t mean she was going to tell him the whole sordid and embarrassing story. It was bad enough that she knew just how extraordinarily foolish she had been – she did not need to lay that out for the only gentlemen who had shown her any kindness, the only man she actually liked – for like him she did.

“I… do not really wish to speak about it, my Lord. Suffice it to say that I made a rash decision, and have paid the price for it.” He nodded, and met her eyes again, searching with his gaze, as if he might see there the answer she had not given him. It made her want to know more about him, in turn, this man who did not outright reject her, who was so different from all of the others. “My Lord, I would ask a question of you in turn.”

A smile crossed his lips then, and her eyes went to them, taking in their perfect shape. She licked her own lips in turn, mouth suddenly dry again. He was a most handsome man.

“Certainly, do ask, my Lady. I reserve the right to be as conservative in my answer as you were in yours.”

Conservative! That was amusing- she would have described it as actively avoidant!

“I have heard it said, my Lord, that you have only recently come into your title, unexpectedly. The gossip suggests that you are an excellent manager of your estates – many good things are said – but nothing is spoken of about your life before the title descended upon you. You yourself have said that you have spent much of your life away from society. Which brings me to my question – if not amongst society, where have you spent your life? For to me, you seem quite different from most gentlemen.”

*****

Morgan concentrated on the figures of the dance for a few moments, as the shock of her question ran through him. How could he answer that, without revealing things which he did not want society gossiping about? It was inevitable that they would learn more of his life eventually, but he wanted to delay that for as long as possible – there was quite enough attention focussed on him already, simply because he was an unmarried Earl, without adding to it!

And… if he told her the truth, what would she think of him?

For he had discovered that he cared what she thought of him, quite acutely.

If she was, as he believed, the young Lady whose face he had sewn up, then would she turn away from him, once she knew that he was one and the same as the groom who had helped her that day? Would that less than aristocratic part of his life horrify her? Weren’t young ladies brought up to expect only gentlemen of the highest stratum of society to be suitable people to associate with, to potentially marry?

Marry…

The word dropped into his thoughts like a stone into a pond, causing ripples of other thoughts to spread from it.

Why should he think of that word, when considering the opinions of this young Lady in particular?

He pushed that question aside for later consideration, and concentrated on finding something to say, now.

“I… I was not in the direct line of inheritance for the title, which meant that my life followed, at least at first, the sort of path you might expect for a man nobly born but not of great significance. The sort of path which is generally a choice between the church, the military, law, or academia. But then fate caused me to cross paths with very different opportunities, so I took them. I was quite happy in that life, and I learnt many useful things – but very few of the things which society places value upon. Coming into the title has forced me to learn an entirely new way of life – which I am still adapting to.”

There – hopefully she would accept that, for it was true, without actually revealing anything.

The music slowed a little, the flourishes leading them to the last turns of the dance, and he trained his eyes on her beautiful face again, assessing her response to his words. Her lips twisted into a wry smile, and for a moment he felt the impulse to bend the small distance between them and kiss those lips. The desire ran through him like lightning, shocking, unexpected.

“You have, indeed, risen to the challenge of being as conservative with your answer as I was with mine. You must realise, of course, that this just makes me all the more intrigued. I will have to forgive you for tonight, sadly, as the dance is ending – perhaps a future conversation will allow us to both edge closer to clarity…?”

Her words sent a thrill through him, for they suggested an ongoing dalliance, even if only of words, an ongoing opportunity to discover more about her, and perhaps, one day, to see if she remembered his fingers on her face.