To Tempt an Earl (19 page)

A humorless chuckle escaped his lips. The
girl had reduced him to a lovesick sop. After pitying all the other
fools who had fallen so utterly over the moon for a chit, he now
found himself among their ranks.

Who was he fooling? He was their bloody
general.

He ran his cool fingers down his face,
swearing under his breath.

"This is the right thing. The honorable act,"
he mumbled, trying to remind himself of exactly why he was putting
himself through such exquisite torture. Unbidden, the hurt and
betrayal etched on Clairmont's features came to mind, reminding
Graham of just what his affection toward Bethanny had cost.

She deserved better than the likes of him. It
was the harsh, cold truth. Bitter like the north wind and just as
severe.

Love was every bit as miserable as he'd
feared. No wonder men dreaded the marriage mart. It surely was a
man who'd thought of the first arranged marriage.

Bloody stroke of brilliance.

To be free of the laceration of a breaking
heart when the woman you loved either didn't return your affection,
or in his case, was simply out of reach. Horrible, miserable
existence, this love.

Yet as miserable, as emotionally distraught
as he was, he couldn't regret one moment. One kiss.

In fact, he'd do it all again.

Over and over, because as much as the pain
was slowly maiming his heart, he had those precious — albeit stolen
— memories to live within him.

Such a treasure was worth any pain.

It was because of that love that he knew he
needed to leave. To give her the freedom to find a man with far
more integrity, far more honor, and far less of a checkered past
than himself.

Oh, he had never been
too
scandalous,
but when compared to the purity of Bethanny, it made his history
seem black. He wouldn't bind her purity to his sins, past or not.
She deserved more.

He wanted her to have more.

Even if it meant it wasn't with him.

However, that was the very reason Scotland
was a necessity. Being near her, he would never be strong enough to
allow her the freedom to find that perfect man. He would push,
fight, and veritably claw his way into her line of sight so that no
other man would stand a chance. Because what Clairmont had also
said was startlingly true.
He did
know how to charm her, how
to speak in precisely the most honeyed of tones that would render a
woman boneless and unable to resist the temptation of his advances.
He wasn't arrogant. He simply knew and had used it to his selfish
advantage more than his share.

And bloody hell, he knew that given the
chance, he'd seduce Bethanny. And she needed, deserved more.

He needed more for her.

Thus, Scotland. Where he couldn't stand in
her way, where the duke could pick out a blameless gent from the
ton
and marry her into the protective safety of
innocents.

Damn it all if he wouldn't give his fortune
to be that gent.

The carriage hit a pothole and jostled,
shaking him from his melancholy stupor. Fisting his palms, he
pressed them into the soft seat and clenched his jaw. Doing the
right thing had never been so difficult.

"Have you found out anything more?" Bethanny
closed the door to her sister's room quietly before turning her
questioning gaze to Beatrix.

"No. Believe me, I've tried as well."

"Bother."

"Agreed. What about Lady Southridge? Did you
ask her?"

"I went to see her, but she wasn't available.
She was out on Bond Street shopping."

"I'd ask the duke, but that would leave me in
the suds."

"Quite right. He'd only demand you explained
why
you were interested, and we'd get nowhere." Bethanny
heaved a dramatic sigh and flopped — very unladylike — onto the
chaise next to the fire.

"How are you faring?" Beatrix asked quietly
as she came and sat next to her sister.

"Aside from wanting to throttle him…"
Bethanny tried to put on a brave face, but her throat began to ache
as she held in her emotion.

Ennui, be damned.

A tear made its way past her determination
and trailed down her nose.

"Bethanny." She sighed. Softly, Beatrix put
her arm around her sister, pulling her into an embrace.

"I'm the eldest. I'm to be the one to take
care of you, not the other way around."

"Dearest, you
have
taken care of us,
you always will too, but that doesn't mean you have to always be
strong. Sisters are here for when you are weak, when you need
support. Is it so wrong for you to need us as much as we need you?"
Beatrix asked softly.

"I suppose not, but—"

"No arguing. I'm right, and that's that."
Beatrix smiled.

"You've grow quite bossy." Bethanny gave her
sister a watery smile.

"I had a good teacher." Beatrix shrugged,
laughing quietly.

"Beatrix? Bethanny? Are you in there?"
Berty's voice called through the closed door.

"Yes, we're here," Beatrix called out, a
rueful smile tipping her lips as the youngest sister barged through
the door and slammed it shut.

Not on purpose, simply because that was
Berty.

Loud.

Ungraceful.

And, because it was worth mentioning again —
loud.

Of course, she was also still slightly round
from her baby fat, with the largest and expressive brown eyes. She
could charm the whiskers off a cat.

When she wanted to, that is.

"What are you two doing hiding in here?
Wait." Berty paused, her eyes narrowing then widening with alarm.
"Bethanny! You're crying! Why? I'll kill him. Who is it? Who broke
your heart? Wait… is it Carlotta? I didn't think anything of it
when she left breakfast a little green this morning. Was it—"

"Berty, dear… sit." Bethanny shook her head
and sniffed delicately.

Berty paused then sat.

On the very edge of the chair, as if
expecting to jump up and… do something.

Heaven only knows what.

"All is well. I'm sure Carlotta is well, as
am I. I simply—"

"No. You are not well. I don't appreciate you
keeping the truth from me. I'm not a child anymore."

"Of course not, Berty." Beatrix reached out
and patted her sister's hand then glanced to Bethanny, raising her
brows.

Bethanny sighed. "I'm simply… confused."

"About Lord Graham?" Berty asked in a hushed
whisper.

"Pardon?" Beatrix and Bethanny asked in
unison.

Berty rolled her eyes. "Honestly. You
two…"She shook her head. "I'm not as dense as I look. I might be
young, but I'm not bloody blind."

"Berty!"

"Sorry, sorry. I know, I know. I'll not say
it again." Then she whispered, "It
was
an accurate
sentiment—"

"Berty…" Bethanny warned.

"Very well," Berty huffed. "I might not be at
all your parties, but I do have two eyes in my head. And two ears.
Whenever the earl's name is mentioned, you bite your lip and look
down at you lap, and your ears turn red."

"Oh heavens," Bethanny lamented, letting her
head slightly thump the back of the chaise. Goodness, she couldn't
be
that
transparent, could she? With a heavy sigh, she
glanced up at her sisters.

"Don't worry, I don't think anyone else
noticed." Berty shrugged.

"How comforting."

"I—"

"Girls?" Carlotta's voice called through the
closed door.

"Honestly?" Bethanny whispered.

"We're here!" Beatrix called out as she and
her sisters sat up straighter and smoothed their skirts.

"Ah, there you are. I've been looking — dear
me! Bethanny, have you been crying?"

"Good Lord!" Bethanny whispered in a
plea.

"Er—"

"Don't try." Carlotta held up her hand and
turned to shut the door.

"I—"

"It's Lord Graham, isn't it?"

"I'm thinking I should simply announce this
in the newspaper. I'm quite sure all of London knows!" Bethanny
stood and huffed.

"A bit dramatic, are we?" Carlotta asked.

"You have no idea," Berty replied.

Bethanny turned and glared at her sister.

"It's the truth. After all, you're the
one—"

"Berty, you're not helping," Beatrix
interrupted. "Bethanny is simply concerned that someone will cry
rope on her… you know, tell all her secrets?"

"It's not
that
much of a secret,"
Berty added.

"Again,
not
helping," Beatrix ground
out.

"Girls? Let me speak with Bethanny alone, do
you mind?" Carlotta asked with regal grace as she touched Berty's
shoulder gently.

"Yes, of course." Beatrix stood.

When Berty opened her mouth, a defiant glint
in her eye, Beatrix grabbed her hand and pulled her up from the
chair.

"We'll be in the library." Beatrix spoke with
a steely edge, daring her younger sister to argue.

"I'm coming, I'm coming. There's no need to
cut off my circulation." Berty pulled her hand out of Beatrix's
grasp. After pausing and sighing deeply, she turned to address
Carlotta. "We shall be in the library." She nodded emphatically and
breezed from the room, leaving Beatrix behind.

"As if you didn't hear me the first time."
Beatrix shook her head at Carlotta.

Carlotta held up her hand to hide the wide
smile Bethanny could see dancing in her eyes.

Berty was entertaining, if nothing else.

Beatrix nodded and closed the door as she
left.

"Come, darling. Is your tender heart feeling
broken from the earl's sudden departure? I had noticed him paying
marked attention toward you, and I was going to speak with you
concerning it, but I was… distracted. Forgive me."

Bethanny's heart pinched with longing for her
own mother as she saw the care, the concern etched on her former
governess's face. A tear welled up and escaped.

"Dear Bethanny, " Carlotta murmured and
strode forward, pulling her it to a tight embrace, clearly not
concerned that her dress would be wrinkled or stained with
tears.

"Pardon me, I—"

"You're hurting. And I imagine you wish you
had your mother here," Carlotta whispered, her kindness releasing a
new torrent of tears from Bethanny.

"Yes, I feel like such a ninny." She sniffed,
leaning back to look at Carlotta.

"Don't. I cannot tell you how many times I
have wished for advice from my own mother, to simply feel her arms
around me, to smell her rose water." Carlotta inhaled deeply, as if
smelling it from memory alone.

"I miss her."

"As you should."

"But you and the duke—"

"Are not your parents. I understand. But I
hope you know, beyond all doubt, how much we love you. You might
not have your parents, but you do have love, dear."

Bethanny smiled through her tears. "I know.
Thank you."

"Now…" Carlotta led them back to the chaise
and sat beside her, "Lord Graham left for Scotland. I take it you
weren't expecting this."

"No."

"Can you tell me why?" Carlotta asked, her
green gaze sharp and patient.

"No."

"Can't or do not wish to?" Carlotta tilted
her head slightly.

"Don't wish to?" Bethanny added softly.

"I see… was there an understanding between
you and the earl?"

"No," Bethanny answered, her heart calling
her a fool for wishing so desperately to answer differently.
"However," Bethanny felt her shoulders slump in a very unladylike
manner, "he did imply that he… enjoyed my company.

"Has he kissed you?" Carlotta asked
directly.

"Er—" Bethanny stammered.

"Yes then." She nodded. "You really shouldn't
let gentlemen kiss you, dear. But I happen to know someone quite
like the earl," she winked conspiratorially, "and those types of
gentlemen tend to get what they want." She grinned.

"The duke?"

"Indeed. The man didn't understand the
meaning of
no
… unless he was telling it to himself," she
amended. She glanced to the low-burning fire and furrowed her brow.
"This isn't adding up. Something's amiss. Let me speak with
Charles. I'll get to the bottom of this."

"What do you mean?" Bethanny asked, desperate
for some sort of hope.

"Lord Graham isn't one to dally with—" She
began quickly then stopped. "What I mean to say is if Lord Graham
kissed you, then he wasn't simply playing with your affections. His
friendship with the duke is far too important for him to entertain
a flirtation with you. So there must have been a reason he
left."

"But—"

"I watched him, you know." Carlotta leaned
forward, her eyes dancing.

"What?"

"I watched him around you. And don't think
you're pulling the wool over my eyes, young lady. I saw you leave
the party at the Symores'. It wasn't long after that Charles… oh,
dear heavens." Carlotta's green eyes widened.