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He shook his head. He had denied his lust in favor of honor. To seek another meeting with Heloise would tarnish the integrity of his noblesse oblige. There were others more suited to Château Follet. Perhaps he could amuse himself by seducing Anne Wesley into retracting her unkind words. He was confident she would sing his praises before long.
Time would ensure that Miss Merrill became but a faint memory. If only that were what he desired.
* * * * *
The weeds resisted, and Heloise welcomed their defiance as she tugged at them—anything to command her attention and keep her mind off Château Follet and the Earl of Blythe. A sennight had passed and still it was no easy matter to forget him, especially in the quiet of night. Lying in bed, she would caress the parts of her that he had caressed. Her body longed for his touch and the way he made her feel alive. She missed their exchanges.
But she had not heard from him since leaving Château Follet. She knew not if he had attempted to contact Josephine. Somehow she suspected he was done with both Miss Merrill as well as Miss Josephine.
The afternoon sun shone brightly and perspiration trickled down the side of her face as her uncle approached her. He looked very much like her father, only a bit more stout about the belly. She often thought how fortunate she was that she had such a kindhearted guardian.
“Er, Heloise,” he said, peering at her through his bifocals. He hesitated, apparently deciding not to say what he had initially intended.
Ceasing her activity, Heloise looked up at him and waited.
After clearing his throat a few times, her uncle blurted, “How do you know the Earl of Blythe?”
Heloise felt her stomach drop. “Sir?”
“He is not a man I thought would be familiar to you.”
Avoiding his gaze, Heloise wondered how she could answer him. This was not how she had meant to repay his kindness for taking her in, and yet she was guilty of deception and shame. Should she confess the whole truth and offer to take her leave? Surely he would not want to keep her in his household after learning the truth?
“He has a…” her uncle began again, “a repute of sorts, you know.”
“Yes, I am aware of his character,” she replied, fidgeting with her gloves. She dug for courage to ask, “Why do you wish to speak of Lord Cadwell?”
“He is here.”
Her breath halted sharply. “He—Lord Cadwell came to see you?”
“He came not for me but for you.”
“Me?” she echoed. “Not…Josephine?”
“I, er, asked the same, but he was quite clear. A direct man, this earl. In truth, his candor took me by surprise. Nonetheless, I told him that I would not be deemed a responsible guardian if I were to countenance your acquaintance with him. He said he quite understood my fear that I would be feeding the sheep to the wolf, as it were, but he praised your sense of judgment, and I had to agree. I do wish Josephine shared of your discrimination.”
The irony of his words made her cringe.
“I leave it up to you then,” he continued, “to decide if you will see him. If you’ve no wish to, I will send him away.”
Heloise searched his face and realized there was no anger there.
“I will see him.”
When her uncle left, she wished she had asked him to make the earl wait in the drawing room, that she might have an opportunity to attend her toilette. Having exerted some effort in gardening, she must have looked as unkempt as she had that first day at Madame Follet’s. She removed her gloves, wiped the perspiration from her brow, and attempted to tuck her curls into some sense of order.
But why worry of her appearance? she reasoned. She knew not the purpose of his call. Indeed, she had not expected to see him again after his departure from the château. But perhaps he harbored some guilt for having seduced her? Or wished to point out that he had not seduced her but that she had willingly given herself to him so that she had no claims upon his conscience? Perhaps he wished once more to warn her not to meddle in his affairs. Well, she had no intention of interfering in his pursuit of her cousin. And she had no wish to force his hand. No one knew she was ruined, and she trusted him not to speak of it. Though she had not been able to refrain from thinking of him these past days, he would not know it.
Still, she could not stay her vanity from smoothing down her gown and being dismayed upon discovering a stain. She tried to rub it out.
“Miss Merrill.”
Her head snapped up to see the Earl of Blythe standing before her, as immaculately dressed as ever in his high polished Hessians, trim cutaway coat with brass buttons and starched cravat.
“Your Lordship,” Heloise returned as blandly as she could, attempting not to be unnerved by the manner in which his gaze bored into her as she bobbed a curtsy.
Silence settled between them as he took her in. Heloise pulled at the fingers of her gloves. It was he who had called upon her. Why did he not speak? Afraid that he would unearth her true feelings, she kept her eyes averted and waited unsuccessfully for him to begin the dialogue. When he did not, she was tempted to ask him if he had come all this way simply to stare at her.
