To Tempt an Earl (24 page)

Though it did boil his blood to know that
Neville was established in
his
room. Blasted blackguard! Not
only did he have to steal his woman, but his room? It went beyond
the pale! With a grunt, Graham strode purposefully into the room
and stared out the window, praying for a glimpse of Bethanny.

All he saw were ducks.

"I meant what I said, you know. And I must
offer a word of caution." His sister's voice softly echoed in the
room.

"Oh?" Graham asked without turning.

"Yes, you see, I might have… rather, I
did
offer privileged information in my letter to you. Lord
Neville has spoken with the duke about his intentions toward
Bethanny, but His Grace has left the final decision to
Bethanny."

"Pardon?" Graham felt his brow furrow as he
gazed intently at his sister.

Could it be?

"Miss Lamont, Bethanny, isn't aware of his
intentions as of yet. Carlotta thought it a wise idea to have a
house party where she and Lord Neville could come to know one
another and help Bethanny with such a decision as marriage. That
being the case, you are not to mention such… sensitive information…
at any point during your stay. Are we in accord?"

"I see. So Beth — Miss Lamont is not spoken
for?"

"Not at the moment." His sister leaned
forward, a devilish smile playing across her lips.

Graham felt his own spread into a wide grin,
and he quickly pulled his sister in a tight hug. "You know,
sometimes you're not so bad."

"I shall take that as a compliment," came her
lighthearted reply.

"Now, I assume you will need to speak with
His Grace?" Lady Southridge asked as soon as Graham released
her.

"I — yes," Graham answered, his voice
crackling slightly as he fought the urge to loosen his cravat.

"Graham, I'm not aware of the full situation,
but he is your best friend, a brother. You must speak with him. You
must work this out. I know enough of what happened to know that it
was why you left for Scotland. You must work this out between you
two." His sister spoke with thick compassion, her green eyes soft
with love and loyalty.

"You are correct." Graham took a deep breath.
"Do you know where I might find him?"

"In fact, I do. He was in his study, but I
suggest you hurry. The men were to hunt this afternoon, provided it
did not rain."

"Very well." Graham cleared his throat. Might
as well get this part over and done with.

"It's good to have you here." She paused as
she lingered at the doorway.

"Thank you… for letting me know," Graham
spoke with heartfelt emotion.

"It's what family is for." She smiled softly.
"I'll leave you now."

He watched his sister silently close the
door. With a deep sigh, he closed his eyes and prayed a simple
plea.

It had been a while since he'd spoken with
God… but some things were too important to
not
include the
Almighty.

And right now he could really use some
assistance.

So with a determined stride, Graham left his
room and headed to his friend's study.

The very room he had snuck into more than
once when a boy, in order to steal brandy. The room in which he and
Clairmont had mourned the passing of the late duke… and now the
room where he would press his suit for his best friend's ward's
hand.

How he wished it were as simple as stealing
brandy.

But it wouldn't be; rather, it would likely
be one of the most difficult things he'd ever do, but Graham wasn't
about to let anything stand in the way of love. Some things were
worth any cost.

Any fight.

Any price.

So with a solid knock, he awaited fate.

"Enter!" Clairmont's voice boomed, his
irritation obvious in the single word.

Good heavens, this was not a promising
start.

Graham opened the door slightly, feeling like
a boy caught with something precious and forbidden… who had just
been discovered.

Clairmont was bent over his desk, writing
forcefully. Several missives were scattered on the wide expanse of
rich wood, and one slipped to the floor as Clairmont violently
pulled up the paper on which he was writing and crumped it.

As Graham took a step into the room, the duke
paused and glanced up, his clear blue eyes piercing,
evaluating.

Graham held his breath.

"It's about bloody time you got here,"
Clairmont grumbled then stood, taking great strides toward his
friend.

"Pardon?" Graham asked, unsure as to what the
duke meant by such a salutation.

"You're a bloody idiot, but I'm glad you're
here." The duke held out his hand, and Graham took it, shaking
it.

"Thank you?" Graham responded, still not sure
as to what exactly was happening.

"You can wipe that damned look from your
face, Graham. I'm not going to name my seconds. You bloody well
look like you're watching a ghost," Clairmont grumbled, though a
smile teased his lips.

"I — that is—"

"Stuttering is never a good sign. I take it
you've spoken with your sister."

"Er — yes."

"Very well. Then you're aware of the
situation?"

"Situation?"

"With Bethanny, you nodcock! That
is
the reason you hauled your bloody arse from Scotland, isn't it?
Because if it's not—"

"It is," Graham assured the duke, still
wanting to pinch himself to see if perhaps he had fallen asleep in
the carriage and was dreaming this whole scene. Was it possible
that his friend was actually
welcoming
his suit?

"Then I suggest you bloody well get started.
You have some steep competition, with you leaving like a blasted
French coward, only to return in the final hour."

"I—I was under the impression—"

"You drew your own conclusions, Graham. I'll
admit I was enraged at your behavior, and let me say that if I ever
hear of such an… example of lack of self-control around my ward…"
he cleared his throat, "there
will
be no need for a duel
because I'll shoot you in your sleep. Understood?"

"Quite." Graham nodded. "I—"

"I'm not finished." Clairmont paced before
the low-burning fire. "I was enraged, and justifiably so. But when
it became apparent that your intentions were honorable — though I
must say your actions were not necessarily a clear example of that
fact — I amended my opinion. But you and your bloody pride wouldn't
hear of it! You left, and
that
is why you are at a severe
disadvantage, my friend. If you truly want to win Bethanny's heart,
her affections, then you must prove that you are sincerely more of
a man than you have shown yourself to be thus far. And frankly, I
don't know if you can do it. Now, I have been honest about my
stance and my reservations. What have you to say for yourself?" The
duke rocked back on his heels, his gaze intent as he studied
Graham.

Gone was any semblance of his friend; rather,
Graham knew he must plead his case as if he were facing Bethanny's
father unknown and needing proper assurances.

Assurances that Graham didn't know how to
express, other than bleed out his bloody heart.

Pride be damned. It was the whole reason he
was in this mess to begin with.

"I love her," Graham spoke softly, his words
raw with unrestrained emotion. "I left hoping, foolishly, that
she'd forget about me and find one more worthy. As much as you
berated me for my actions, I berated myself far more. We, the two
of us, are quite alike." Graham shrugged self-deprecatingly and
took a few steps toward the fire. Staring into the orange embers,
he continued. "As much as I hate to remind you, my past is far less
pristine than I wish to admit. And to know that Bethanny is so…
pure, perfect and undefiled. My unworthiness, as well as my pride,"
Graham conceded, "propelled my actions." He turned to match the
duke's frank gaze. "Please understand, that while they could be
misconstrued as a lack of loyalty, rather, I left because I know,
above all things, that she deserves far better than me. And I'm
only proving my lesser character by showing up, praying for a
chance at stealing back her affections, because while she is strong
enough to survive without me, I doubt my ability to survive without
her," Graham finished then glanced to the fire, watching the orange
flamed lick the wood hungrily.

"Well," Clairmont cleared his throat, "I must
say… for coming in here like a stuttering fool, you surely waxed
poetic when describing Bethanny."

"To do any less would be a gross disservice,
Your Grace." Graham answered, taking the further step and showing
deference by using the customary title.

"Graham, if you start
Your Gracing
me,
I'll turn you out on your ear," Clairmont grumbled.

Graham nodded.

"Damn, the girl has you in knots, doesn't
she? Not a grin or sarcastic remark? I feel as if I should be
concerned for you, rather than her. Apparently I'm taking this
becoming a fath—" Clairmont stopped mid-word, his eyes widening
before glancing down at the Aubussan rug.

"Pardon? Do you mean to say…?" Graham's eyes
widened as he noticed his friend's posture and the slight reddening
of his ears, the telltale sign that he was trying to conceal
something important. "Forgive me. It is none of my affair." Graham
nodded.

"Actually, it will be a relief to tell
someone. But first," Clairmont straightened his shoulders, "you
have my permission to pursue Bethanny, provided that you remain
within the proper bounds of propriety concerning courtship. My dear
wife will take over all chaperone duties and…" the duke took a
warning step toward Graham, "I purposefully placed Bethanny on the
third floor, in a room I will not disclose. So, there will be no
climbing in efforts to secure a private audience with her… unless
you wish to pummel to your death and bruise your pretty head."

"I do believe this is the second time in less
than a quarter hour that I've been given a death threat," Graham
remarked with slight sarcasm, his tension beginning to recede.

"They are not empty threats, my friend." The
duke raised a challenging eyebrow.

"Noted."

"Now," Clairmont strode to his desk, "have a
seat."

Graham walked to a wingback chair opposite
the duke and sat in the plush red velvet.

"Here." A box of sweet-smelling cigars was
opened before Graham. "Take one, for we, my friend, have a reason
to celebrate." Clairmont grinned, his own cigar tipping from his
lips as he held it in his teeth.

"Would there be an heir on the way, by
chance?" Graham asked, his grin wide as he sniffed the tobacco and
sweet spicy scent before clipping off the end and taking the
offered light.

"Indeed," Clairmont affirmed, his grin
widening till he withdrew the cigar from his mouth.

"Brilliant! I'm thrilled for you ol' chap!
This does call for a grand celebration! I assume that Carlotta is
not within her confinement as of yet?"

"No, but soon. She was practically racing
across town getting this house party together before she began to…
er… display her condition."

"Many felicitations to you!" Graham raised
his cigar.

"Yes, well, see that we have another reason
to celebrate soon. Hmm?" The duke issued a challenge to Graham, his
intent clear.

"Believe me, I shall do my best."

"See that you do."

Bethanny flipped the
page of her book and let out an impatient sigh.

Botheration.

Where
was
everyone! Didn't they know
she was sitting on pins and needles waiting to hear about what was
taking place with Lord Graham? With more than a little irritation,
Bethanny strode to the window — pointless as it was — and searched
the grounds for any sign of him.

A knock interrupted her futile searching.

"Yes?" Bethanny responded instantly, her
heart's rhythm increasing its pace as she waited.

"Climbing the walls yet?" Lady Southridge
asked with a wide grin as she let herself into the room.

"Practically," Bethanny admitted.

"No need. I have spoken with your swain, and
I must assure you, there is nothing to worry about, save the sanity
of my younger brother. Surely you are driving him mad! It is
delightful! I never thought I'd see the day when my — er, shall I
say — free-spirited brother fell in love!" She clapped her hands
and bit her lower lip.

"Truly? What happened? I've been going mad
myself up here as I waited!" Bethanny strode forward and grasped
the older woman's hands.

"You mustn't worry, dear. If I'm correct —
and I always am." She winked. "Then your Lord Graham is speaking
with the duke right now."

"About?"

"About the weather." Lady Southridge rolled
her eyes. "You, you ninny! Of course they're talking about
you!"

"I deducted as much, thank you kindly.
However, what
about
me in particular are they discussing?"
Bethanny asked archly as she released Lady Southridge and sat in
the wingback chair by the fire.

"You'll simply have to wait and see," Lady
Southridge shot back as she followed Bethanny's example and sat in
the chaise.

"Pardon?" Bethanny felt her eyebrows shoot up
in surprise.

"Don't you think it's quite unfair that you
are up here, knowing all that happens below pertaining to my
brother with no mystery involved at all? No! I cry foul. Therefore,
you must also wait in some suspense, my dear. After all,
anticipation is part of the fun." Lady Southridge hitched a
shoulder, a gleaming smile of innocent intent teasing her lips.

"Cruel," Bethanny replied.

"No. Simply being fair."

"Very well," Bethanny conceded. "Must I still
wait till supper?"

"Indeed. Because while I'm certain the
gentlemen are conversing about you, I also know the duke has no
intention of doing Lord Graham any favors. If he wishes to win your
hand and heart, he must do so without any assistance."