Page 53 of A Gifted Earl

“Then we have been fools together, my Lord, for I could say the same. The more time I spent with you, the more I liked you, the more I came to care for you. You were the only man who did not flinch from my face, who treated me kindly, always, yet I could not trust myself to believe that it might be anything more than kind friendship. I was too afraid that if I hoped for more, my heart would be broken.”

He kissed her lips again, a butterfly soft brush, yet one which sent heat through him, as if he had been struck by lightning.

“Then let us be fools no longer, and explore what we have between us.”

She nodded, and then, after drawing her lip between her teeth for a moment – which only made him want to kiss her again – she spoke.

“Then if we are to do that, there is a question I must ask you. Are you the man who sewed this,” her fingers went to the scar on her brow momentarily, “with such neat stitches? For you look so like my faint memory…”

He was startled, all over again. He had not thought that, with the laudanum, and the blow she’d suffered to her head, she would have any memory of him at all, from that day.

“I… yes. I was that man.”

She shook her head in bemusement.

“But… that man was a groom, come to collect a horse – how can it have been you? My memory of the day is faint, but still, you were so like, I have wondered – when you first looked on my face and did not flinch, I felt that it was almost as if you already knew the scar was there, as if you were not surprised…”

“In that you are right. I had heard that there was a young Lady with a scar, and when it was described to me, I was almost certain that it had to be the one I had repaired – so I was not surprised. I do apologise though, that I did not do a better job of stitchery, for the scar was still noticeable, and people have mocked you and treated you badly as a result. Please forgive me for the lack in my skills.”

She shook her head.

“There is nothing to forgive. You are truly gifted – you did a remarkable job, after the utter mess I had managed to make of myself. Mother has always told me that I am too rash, that bad things would come of it, and she was right. If you had not been there, I would have had a far worse scar, and never been able to show my face in society again. And you know… I think that I am coming to like it, in a way. It is fading, so that the colour is now like a pale autumn leaf, as if one has tangled in my hair, and stuck against my face. Which is suitable, given the number of times I’ve fallen off horses into piles of leaves. But… I still don’t understand why you were a groom…”

Morgan swallowed – this was the part where her aristocratic upbringing might make her disdain him – but, if they were being honest with each other, he must answer her. As if she knew his doubts, she gently squeezed his hand with hers.

“Generally, there are not many ‘respectable’ occupations for the son of a second son.”

“But… you are Earl now?”

“Yes, only because my father has been dead for some time, and my uncle, who was his older brother, and Earl before me, died, with his wife, and all of their children, in the cholera plague of this past spring. I went into the military, when I was old enough, but I hated fighting. I learnt how to care for the horses, to heal them when they were injured, and from that, I was co-opted into the medical corps. I preferred healing men to fighting them. When I came home, I put those skills to good use as a groom, and then a stablemaster. I was so far from the line of inheritance for the title at that point, that I saw no reason to try to stay within the expected aristocratic behaviour – I chose to do something that gave me pleasure. So there I was that day, when you were carried in on a makeshift stretcher, with blood everywhere. All that battlefield experience took over – I just assumed command, told them what to do, and set about fixing you, because that was something I knew how to do. And now, as I remember it, I suspect that I have loved you from that moment, when, as they carried you in to the parlour, to set you on the table for me to work on your face, you opened your eyes and looked into mine. I fell into your gaze then, and I have never really escaped your thrall since.”

She moved then, her eyes shining with tears, and rose on her toes to bring her lips to his.

“And I you. For I dreamed of your face, of your eyes, almost every night after I woke from the laudanum daze. I still do dream of it. I would wake from the dreams, and wish that you were real, were there with me, then I would get up and face another dreadful day.”

“Then perhaps we should start today, to see what might truly be between us. But first, much though I would prefer to hide here with you, eventually someone will come looking for us, and I do not want to be found in a scandalous situation – not because I dislike being scandalous with you, but because I have no desire for any more nasty gossip. And also, we should make sure that Lord Jasper actually leaves within this next hour, and obeys my commands.”

“We should. But thank you, again, for everything, from the moment you sewed up my face, to what you have done for me today.”

*****

Venetia hurried up to her rooms, and stood before the mirror, not just to see what she might need to do to make sure that she looked perfectly respectable, but to stare at herself in wonder. He had said that he loved her! How could that be? Everyone told her that the scar had made her ugly, made her almost completely unmarriageable. Yet he had said….

She shook her head and two pins slipped free from a coil of her hair, allowing everything to collapse. She laughed then, broken out of her stunned state, and set about fixing it. Then she examined her dress carefully, and concluded that she should change. It was late afternoon by now, she realised, and her changing into a dress which would do for dinner would not surprise anyone.

She rang for Molly to help her change, but all the while that was happening, her mind was on Lord Templewick’s words, about marrying her. ‘If you’ll have me’. It had been said jokingly – hadn’t it? She hadn’t responded, because she hadn’t known how to. Had that been, in actuality, a proposal? Would she be, even now, betrothed, if she’d answered? Or… did he actually think that they were betrothed, that her words afterwards were tantamount to an acceptance?

Oh! She was so confused.

But still, if he loved her, then surely everything could be sorted out?

Even so, it was going to be dashed difficult to sort it out – how does one casually ask a man if one is betrothed to him or not? Perhaps she would wait for him to say something, cowardly though that was.

Molly finished with all of her dress buttons, and then adjusted her hair, adding sparkly bejewelled pins.

“There you are my Lady, all pretty. Those amber coloured gems look so nice in your hair, and the necklace is lovely, I am sure that the other young ladies will be jealous.”

“Thank you Molly, although I’m not sure that I’m actually pretty.”

“Of course you are. You always have been!”

And with that, the maid hurried off to assist Lady Hardenwell.

Venetia contemplated the evening ahead, and realised, with overwhelming relief, that Jasper would not be there, that she could relax, and enjoy herself – unless, of course, Jasper had already succeeded in poisoning the minds of the other gentlemen against her. She would see.

*****

Morgan watched the rather shabby carriage drive off with satisfaction. It was the one and only hireable carriage in the local village, and as Lord Jasper had come with Wilborough, he’d had no choice but suffer the indignity of its aging springless structure. Morgan had paid for it, to make sure that Lord Jasper went as far away as possible, and as soon as possible. In fact, he’d overpaid, to ensure that the coachman wasn’t bribeable by Lord Jasper.

His mind ran back over the events of the day – a most remarkable day, all in all.

A day on which he had realised that he loved Lady Venetia, and told her so. A day on which she had told him that she returned that love. A day on which he had declared his willingness to marry her, if she would have him. A day on which she had…. Not actually answered that implied question.

Damnation!

Tomorrow, early, he would have to find a way to ask her for an actual answer, before he proceeded with anything like wedding plans…