To Tempt an Earl (21 page)

"Blast it all. They kissed! And the duke saw
the whole thing—"

"Not the
whole
thing," Beatrix cut in,
her eyes darting between Bethanny and Beatrix with a worried crease
to her brow.

"Berty!" Bethanny cried.

"It's true!"

"Yes, but—" Bethanny started.

"You didn't have to put it so—" Beatrix
interjected.

"Honestly?" Berty finished.

"Girls?" Lady Southridge asked softly.

Bethanny turned her furious gaze from Berty
to Lady Southridge.

"I'm quite certain that I have surmised the
situation." She nodded confidently.

"Er, how?" Bethanny asked, her brow furrowing
in confusion. It wasn't as if they'd stated, or interrupted each
other, with much information.

"You see, I was actually going to contact
you,
Bethanny dear, to see if you knew the cause for my
dear," she shook her head as if exasperated, "deluded brother's
departure to Scotland. Especially when things were going so
well."

"And?" Bethanny prodded, still not
comprehending what exactly she was trying to explain.

"
And
, knowing that Edward was… more
amorous than I anticipated, coupled with the information that the
duke had caught your… shall we say, affection for one another? It
simply all makes sense. The question is, what are we going to do to
remedy the situation?" She placed her hands placidly on her lap as
she warmly regarded Bethanny.

How in hades is the woman so calm about it
all?

"I have a plan." Berty clapped, her
expression overjoyed.

"Let's hear it."

"What we are assuming is that Lord Graham
left after having a bit of a gentleman's argument with the
duke."

"If I may ask, how are you aware of this…
gentleman's argument?" Lady Southridge asked skeptically.

"Carlotta. She approached the duke."

"And who described it as a gentleman's
argument?"

Berty glanced to Beatrix, who glanced to
Bethanny.

"The duke, I believe," Bethanny answered,
unsure as to why it was important.

"Ah."

"Ah?" Bethanny questioned.

"Yes, the very fact that he used the words,
gentleman's argument
, means that it was anything but, my
dears. Or else he wouldn't have gone so far as to describe the
nature of it."

"How are you so sure?" Bethanny asked,
darting a glance to Beatrix.

"I know those two boys well, and even though
they are men now, not so much has changed. And there's nothing that
reverts a man back to his boyhood more than feeling scolded and
wanting to defend himself."

"Noted." Berty nodded sagely.

Bethanny cast a longsuffering glance to her
sister then turned her attention back to Lady Southridge. "So
you're saying it wasn't a small argument."

"No, but it's beside the point. Berty, your
plan? Please continue." She gestured to Berty, indicating for her
to proceed.

Oddly enough, Bethanny fancied she looked
very much like a queen as she did such.

"Since Lord Graham has left for Scotland, we
decided we needed him to come back."

"Berty, I'm sure that is already understood,"
Beatrix murmured.

"I'm getting there," Berty huffed. "So we
thought—"

"You.
You
thought." Bethanny felt the
need to correct her sister.

"Very well,
I
thought that we needed
to get him alone with the duke and my sister. Give him a chance to
work out the issues with the duke and also make amends for being a
nodcock to my sister. Garden Gate would be a lovely location for a
house party. It would easily serve the purpose."

"Yes, indeed. I see the cunning of your
proposal. However, what is your bait? How are we going to entice my
brother from licking his proverbial wounds in Scotland and fight
for the fair maiden?" Lady Southridge's eyes were dancing as she
pointed to Bethanny.

"Because we're going to have
you
send
him a missive stating that the house party is actually an
engagement celebration… for Bethanny."

"Brilliant!" Lady Southridge clapped.

Berty stood and curtseyed.

Beatrix rolled her eyes but smiled softly at
her sister.

"That will surely light a fire under his
intentions. So, who am I to say is the lucky gentleman engaged to
Miss Bethanny?"

"Er, I hadn't thought that far ahead." Berty
bit her lower lip.

"Lord Neville," Beatrix spoke.

"Yes!" Bethanny grinned at her sister.

"Neville? That would work. Is there a
specific reason why you chose him, Beatrix?" Lady Southridge asked
while shifting her gaze from Bethanny to Beatrix.

"Didn't Lord Graham show particular jealousy
that day you were accepting callers, Bethanny?"

"Indeed. I thought of that as soon as you
mentioned his name." Bethanny raised an eyebrow.

This might just work.

"Delightful! Already there's a seed of
jealousy. We'll simply water it."

"And let it grow?" Berty asked, a devious
tone to her voice.

"Exactly."

"The question is, will he believe you?"
Bethanny asked hesitantly.

"I can be quite convincing when I need to
be." Lady Southridge winked. "The true question is, when are we
going to have the party?"

"Bethanny?" the duke's voice called from
behind his wide desk. His dark head was bowed over some missive he
was finishing.

"Yes?" Bethanny replied, swallowing her
trepidation.

The duke set aside the letter and met her
gaze. Folding his hands, he furrowed his brows in a concerned
expression. "Carlotta and Lady Southridge both spoke with me about
your… ploy."

"Oh?" Bethanny tried to remain still; all she
wanted to do was fidget.

"Indeed. Though I have to say, I cannot
believe that one as such as yourself, a diamond of the first water,
feels the need to resort to such measures to snare a gentleman…
especially when the man in question is already in love with you."
He sighed heavily.

"But—"

"No, let me finish. I'll agree to this scheme
upon one condition." He speared her with a glance.

She nodded.

"No more moping, no more long face, no more
tears behind closed doors, and absolutely no more lamenting. I
accept the truth that I played a part in the departure of Lord
Graham, but you must first also admit that such was my duty, my
position and honor to do so, Bethanny. "He stood and walked around
his desk then sat on the front of it.

Even though Bethanny held him as an older
brother more than father figure, she could appreciate the handsome
man before her.

Though none could compare with Lord
Graham.

Blast the man.

"You behaved in an unladylike manner. You
risked your reputation
and
Graham's. Naiveté is no excuse. I
suspect you were fully aware of the implications of your actions if
they were discovered by anyone but myself." He raised his eyebrows,
awaiting her response.

"Yes, Your Grace."

He exhaled a sigh. "Why did you not speak
with me? Why did you not confide in me? And why Lord Graham of all
people? When you could have your choice of all the—"

"I love him, Your Grace. Pardon the
interruption," she added belatedly, her face heating at her brash
behavior.

"One kiss does not equal love."

"No. You're correct. But love can begin in
the heart of a child and grow till it can be mature in the heart of
a woman," she answered.

He twisted his lips and glanced at the fire
before turning once again to her. "Indeed. But you still haven't
answered my question."

"I didn't approach you, Your Grace, because
Lord Graham is your friend. Already I knew this would be difficult
for you to accept—"

"Because he's my friend?"

"Because of his… past reputation. One that
you, at one time, shared, Your Grace."

Bethanny held her breath. This was the only
time she had admitted to knowing anything about the duke's past.
Though it was odd that everyone expected her to be ignorant, since
she was a full sixteen when she'd met him. Even at sixteen, a young
lady can understand certain things.

"And it was because of this… reputation of
Lord Graham you thought his pursuit would be unacceptable?"

"Yes. Because you seemed to imply that I
deserved something… different."

"You mean
more.
"

"To your perspective, yes."

The duke pushed up from his desk and paced
about the room. "As I said, I'll agree to this… whatever it is you
ladies have concocted. Personally, I'd rather simply go to Scotland
myself and wring the bloo — er, my dear
friend's
neck. In
the future, please pass along to your sisters that I'd like to be
told everything up front and not find out the secret intentions of
suitors after I find them in compromising situations and certainly
not when I have them in an enclosed carriage where I can easily
murder them and dispose of the body. I'm far too handsome for
Newgate." The duke smiled then, implying he was joking.

But Bethanny wasn't fully convinced.

"Yes, Your Grace."

"You have two weeks till the house party.
That should be enough time for Graham to get the invitation and for
him to arrive. However, no one else is to find out our little…
embellishment concerning Lord Neville. That will be kept in
completely confidence. Lord knows, we don't need further drama." He
wiped his hand down his face.

"Of course."

"You're excused, but remember when the time
comes, this is all on my terms, my rules, and no exceptions.
Understood?"

"Utterly, Your Grace." Bethanny curtseyed and
turned to leave.

"Bethanny?"

"Yes?"

"For the record, yes. I would have had some
trouble accepting Lord Graham as your suitor. However, that would
have been quickly overcome had I known about your mutual
attachment. You need to understand that I fully approve of the
gentleman you've given your heart to," he nodded, "though I don't
approve of his methods. I can't exactly call the kettle black now,
can I?" He chuckled softly.

"Thank you, Your Grace," Bethanny
whispered.

"And don't worry, if this ruse we've created
doesn't work, I'm perfectly willing to go and collect him from
Scotland for you. All he's doing is wallowing in his own misery."
The duke spoke the words as if they gave him utterly glee. "Though
I'd wait a little longer than necessary, just to make him suffer a
bit."

"How kind."

"I thought as much. You're excused." The duke
chuckled and walked back around to his desk and sat.

Bethanny left, expelling a long breath of
relief as she walked down the hall. Two more weeks.

But it seemed like two years.

Graham paced his
office like a caged animal. It had been four weeks. Four blasted,
bloody, cursed weeks, and he was no closer to a moment of peace
than the moment he'd set foot out of the duke's carriage.

Blasted bloody love.

He'd hated every moment of it, and
conversely, he would hold on to it with his dying breath.

Edinburgh had always been his sanctuary, his
safe harbor where he could weather the storms of life.

Or the storms of his sister.

But it wasn't that way any longer. Even
though Bethanny had never been to his estate, she haunted the
halls. He heard her laughter in the soft rustle of the leaves as
the sea breeze teased them from their lofty perch.

Damn it all, he was even growing poetic.

Either that or pathetic. Perhaps it was
both.

Lucky him.

In the past weeks he had made a supreme
effort to continue his normal routine when in Scotland. He had
attended a dignitary's ball that was held in the main hall of
Edinburgh castle.

Bloody drafty, that old place.

Of course, his good intentions fled once an
elderly woman had caressed his thigh at dinner.

That, coupled with her missing teeth as she
smiled lecherously at him, was enough to kill what little appetite
he had summoned for the occasion.

He shivered.

One of his chums had invited him to a rout of
Highland Games. Normally one of his favorite diversions when in
Scotland, but even caber tossing didn't sound entertaining.

To be honest, he usually didn't participate;
he simply watched in amazement as others did.

Caber tossing. He shook his head. Some Scot
had to have been bloody daft to of thought up such a game.

Or desperate to impress a woman.

Now
that
he could understand.

And commiserate.

His lips drew down as he wondered if it had
worked, impressing the woman as the poor bloke threw the ceremonial
log, trying to land it upright.

He'd toss a caber for Bethanny.