The Lady Confesses

chapter Eleven

‘I simply cannot thank you enough for returning my darling Hector to me unharmed, Sir Rufus.’ Mrs Wilson beamed up at that gentleman over the top of the little dog’s head as she still cradled him possessively in her arms some ten minutes or so after he had been returned to her.

Nathaniel, having just returned from his own fruitless search for Hector, only to find him already returned to his doting owner, now stood beside the unlit fireplace, observing the scene taking place across the drawing room, his mood broodingly pensive as all three of the ladies talked to and looked approvingly at the older man. An approval that Tennant was obviously lapping up as greedily as a cat with a saucer full of cream.

Which could only be called sour grapes on his part, Nathaniel acknowledged self-derisively. It was purely because Elizabeth, whilst stroking and petting Hector, was smiling up at Tennant…

He was not sure which annoyed him the most—that she was not stroking and petting him in that happy way, or that she was smiling so brightly at Tennant when she had not been able to meet Nathaniel’s own gaze at breakfast this morning.

Sour grapes, indeed!

‘It is my pleasure, I assure you, Mrs Wilson.’ Sir Rufus accepted the accolade of praise. ‘I simply happened to be riding by when I heard his little whines of distress.’

Nathaniel’s aunt repressed a horrified shudder. ‘My poor darling could have been trapped in that rabbit hole for hours if you had not found him when you did.’

Doubtful, when Nathaniel had been on his way to explore the woods after first riding the length of the cliff path in search of the mischievous dog, at which time he would no doubt have heard Hector’s whines for himself. But he had not done so, and now had to accept that Rufus Tennant was the hero of the hour. ‘Indeed, we are in your debt, Tennant.’ He gave the other man a stiff bow.

‘Not at all, Osbourne,’ the other man dismissed smoothly. ‘Knowing how Mrs Wilson dotes upon her pet, I am only too pleased this unhappy circumstance had such a satisfactory ending.’

‘Can I persuade you into taking tea with us, Sir Rufus?’ Mrs Wilson beamed at him.

‘Unfortunately estate business dictates that I be at home this morning,’ he refused regretfully. ‘But I will be returning this afternoon in order to collect Miss Thompson for our carriage ride.’ Sir Rufus smiled down at that young lady in such a proprietary way that Nathaniel had to grind his teeth together in order to stop himself from making a sharp comment. In fact, he had decided during the night, as he once again tossed and turned, unable to sleep after that unsatisfactory conclusion to his encounter with Elizabeth in the library, that the only positive thing about her decision to leave Hepworth Manor today was that, although it was taking her away from him, it would also succeed in removing her from Tennant’s more-than-obvious attentions.

‘I am very much looking forward to it, Sir Rufus,’ Elizabeth answered the other man brightly.

Nathaniel’s scowl darkened. ‘But I had thought—’

‘Yes?’ Elizabeth turned to him sharply, the warning in her clear blue gaze enough to inform Nathaniel not to bring up the subject of her departure.

Did that mean that she had changed her mind and intended to stay, after all, possibly because Mrs Wilson’s worry over Hector this morning made it a less-than-ideal time for Elizabeth to inform her employer of her decision to leave? Or could her change of mind be because Tennant’s rescue of the little dog now meant that she thought more kindly of the other man than she had previously?

It was a possibility that did not please Nathaniel in the slightest. ‘I believe it might come on to rain later this afternoon,’ he murmured instead of his intended comment.

‘I am sure that Sir Rufus has a suitable carriage if that should prove to be the case,’ Elizabeth dismissed as she turned away from the brooding earl.

Really, did the man have no sense of his aunt’s emotional state? There was no way she was going to resign today and risk further upsetting Mrs Wilson when she’d already been so distraught!

She found it ironic that Sir Rufus should have been the little dog’s rescuer. Indeed, considering the man’s less-than-favourable opinion of Hector, his rescue of the little dog was to be doubly admired.

Although Hector seemed less than grateful for that rescue as he bared his teeth in a growl at Sir Rufus as that gentleman moved closer to bend over Mrs Wilson’s hand as he took his leave!

‘I do apologise for Hector’s lack of manners, Sir Rufus.’ Mrs Wilson became flustered as Sir Rufus reeled back in alarm. ‘How ungrateful of you, Hector!’ She frowned at her pet disapprovingly as she stood up to place the still-growling dog into Elizabeth’s arms. ‘Perhaps you could take Hector to the parlour and give him a bath after his adventure?’


‘Of course.’ Elizabeth turned to give Hector’s rescuer a brief curtsy. ‘I will see you this afternoon, Sir Rufus.’

‘I will be here promptly at three o’clock,’ he assured her warmly.

‘I will walk outside with our guest, Aunt.’ Nathaniel moved away from the fireplace to accompany the other man out into the cavernous hallway. ‘You did my aunt a great service today, Tennant,’ he allowed grudgingly.

‘Only too happy to oblige.’ The man’s expression was amiable as they stepped outside together.

Nathaniel nodded tersely as one of the grooms aided Sir Rufus in mounting his horse. ‘I trust, in the circumstances, you will not keep Miss Thompson too long from her employer this afternoon?’

Sir Rufus looked down at him beneath the brim of his hat. ‘I have noticed you seem to take a…great deal of interest in Miss Thompson’s welfare.’

Nathaniel’s expression remained coolly removed in the face of this challenging accusation. ‘As a member of my aunt’s household, Elizabeth naturally falls under my guardianship.’

‘With the indulgent Mrs Wilson no doubt acting as her protector within that household?’ the older man sneered.

Nathaniel drew in a sharp breath at the obvious insult. Perhaps a merited one, considering his own less-than-gentlemanly behaviour with Elizabeth yesterday evening, but nevertheless… ‘Exactly what are you implying, Tennant?’

‘Why, nothing at all, Osbourne.’ Sir Rufus gave a dismissive smile that did not reach the coldness of those pale blue eyes. ‘Except you are fortunate in having such a doting aunt as Mrs Wilson.’

And this man’s implication, although still unstated, was obvious. ‘I think it best if I wish you good day, Sir Rufus.’ Nathaniel’s gaze was just as icy.

‘Until this afternoon.’ The older man nodded before pulling on his horse’s reins to turn and ride away.

Nathaniel lingered outside to watch until the other man had ridden out of his sight, his thoughts as dark as the scowl upon his brow, his distrust of Tennant—in spite of his having rescued Hector—having intensified during these past few minutes’ conversation. That the other man still suspected Nathaniel of having less-than-honourable intentions towards Elizabeth had been made as clear to him as if Sir Rufus had actually thrown down a gauntlet of challenge.

Intentions Nathaniel would be hard pressed to deny after making love to Elizabeth, and encouraging her to make love to him in return, the previous evening.



‘What is wrong?’

Elizabeth drew in a deep and calming breath before she looked up from soothing the healing balm onto Hector’s front leg following his bath before the fire. Hopefully, her expression was one of cool uninterest as Nathaniel stood in the doorway of the small parlour. ‘Hector has suffered a slight graze on his leg following his adventure down the rabbit hole.’ She gently wrapped the little dog more securely in a warming towel.

‘Indeed?’ The earl moved into the room on long and graceful legs encased in beige pantaloons and brown-topped Hessians. ‘I wonder how that occurred?’

‘No doubt in his efforts to escape his confinement.’ Elizabeth held the dog in front of her protectively.

Nathaniel gave her a rueful smile. ‘He did not seem particularly grateful for Sir Rufus’s efforts earlier.’

‘No, he did not.’ She grimaced. ‘Which was unfortunate, considering that Sir Rufus is less than comfortable in the company of dogs.’

The earl arched golden brows. ‘Indeed?’

‘A bad experience as a child, I believe.’ At least, Elizabeth had assumed Sir Rufus had been a child at that time. At the moment she was too aware of the intimacies she had shared with Nathaniel the previous evening to be able to remember exactly what Sir Rufus had said about the incident. Of kissing Nathaniel. Touching him in a way that made her blush just to think of it!

Despite the worry of Hector’s disappearance this morning, Elizabeth knew she had thought of little else since leaving this man’s presence the previous evening. She’d had no idea, for example, of how beautiful a man’s arousal could be, both to look at and to touch. Long and thick and firm, yet so velvety soft to the touch. Nor had Elizabeth realised how delicious he would taste. An addictive creaminess, which, despite the hours that had passed, she was sure she could still savour on her tongue—

‘It does not look like a graze.’

Elizabeth’s attention returned to the man she had been remembering making love to, her breath catching in her throat as he stood close beside her in order to examine the cut on Hector’s front leg. So close that she could feel the heat of his body and see the long sweep of his golden lashes against his beautiful cheekbones.

‘What do you mean?’ She examined Hector’s leg for herself, noticing for the first time that some of the skin looked bruised about the small cut. ‘No doubt he became entangled in some brambles or some such thing before becoming trapped.’ She smiled indulgently at the sleepy little dog as he lay comfortably in her arms. ‘Otherwise he seems none the worse for his escapade.’

‘And what about you, Elizabeth?’ Nathaniel’s gaze was narrowed on the flushed beauty of her face, noting the slight shadows beneath those deep blue eyes that would not meet his—due to a similar lack of sleep the night before, perhaps? ‘Are you none the worse for last night’s escapade too, Elizabeth?’ he prompted gruffly.

The darkness of her lashes quickly rose, then as quickly fell again after she shot him a searching glance. ‘I believe the less said about yesterday evening the better!’ Her tone was waspish.

His mouth thinned with displeasure. ‘And the reason for the obvious change in your plans to leave here today?’

She moved to place the now-sleeping Hector in his basket beside the fire. ‘I could hardly risk upsetting Mrs Wilson further by informing her of my impending departure.’ She straightened, her gaze very direct. ‘Unless, of course, you are set upon it, in which case—’

‘I am not in the least set on it, Elizabeth.’ Nathaniel voiced his own impatience with the situation. ‘It was your decision to leave here, not mine.’

‘Because the situation has been made intolerable.’ She did not add the reason was their lovemaking the previous evening, but nevertheless he still heard that statement in the flatness of her tone.

His jaw clenched. ‘You believe encouraging Tennant’s advances will make that situation more bearable for you?’

‘Of course I do not.’ Elizabeth eyed him impatiently. ‘And I do not consider a carriage ride as encouraging him. Having to remain here for perhaps a day or two longer, and Sir Rufus’s gallantry this morning in rescuing Hector, meant that I could not possibly refuse to accompany him this afternoon.’ She gave a defiant sniff. ‘Besides which, I am as grateful as Mrs Wilson to Sir Rufus for having safely returned Hector to us.’

An occurrence that gentleman had been relishing greatly only minutes ago, Nathaniel acknowledged as his frustration with Tennant’s air of self-satisfaction increased. At the same time he realised he was currently behaving like some young idiot of the ton, resentful of the fact that another man had dared to approach the woman he was interested in.

Nathaniel could not deny he was deeply attracted to Elizabeth—as had been clearly demonstrated by his responses to her the previous evening. But his own lack of control during their lovemaking did not give him the right to protest about another man having the same interest in her. Even if, at this moment in time, he did feel like strangling him.

He looked down at Elizabeth now. ‘I believe it fitting that you take one of my aunt’s maids with you this afternoon to act as chaperon.’

Her chin rose challengingly. ‘For my own protection or Sir Rufus’s?’

Nathaniel’s jaw tightened. ‘For your own, of course.’

Elizabeth gave a slight inclination of her head. ‘If you feel it is necessary…’

‘I do.’

Elizabeth had found this entire conversation to be painful. They were lovers—the aching sensitivity of her breasts this morning attested to that!—and yet not. Strangers, and yet they were not that either. In truth, she no longer had any idea what they were! Nor did she wish to know; her plans to leave Hepworth Manor were only temporarily delayed, not put off completely.

‘Was there anything else you wished to discuss with me, my lord? If not,’ she continued firmly as his eyes glittered his dislike of the formality, ‘I believe I should rejoin Mrs Wilson in the drawing room.’

‘By all means.’ He nodded tersely.

That dismissal did not prevent Elizabeth from being completely aware of his darkened gaze upon the stiffness of her back and shoulders as she left the parlour, only relaxing that defensive posture once she was outside in the hallway, her breath leaving her in a shakily relieved sigh as she leant back weakly against the coolness of the wall.

She had called the situation between herself and Nathaniel intolerable, but it was so much worse than that. She apparently found it impossible to even cope with the natural function of breathing when in his company…




‘After our discussions on the subject at dinner the other evening, I thought that after our drive you might perhaps care to view the roses in my hothouse at Gifford House?’

The threatening rain mentioned by Nathaniel earlier this morning had not yet made an appearance, allowing Sir Rufus to call for Elizabeth in an open carriage which he drove himself. Elizabeth was seated beside him and Mrs Wilson’s maid and Sir Rufus’s groom were seated less comfortably at the back of the carriage.

It had been something of a relief for Elizabeth to take this opportunity to escape the claustrophobic atmosphere that now existed for her at Hepworth Manor; her cheeks were flushed and eyes bright from her enjoyment of this fresh and beautiful May afternoon. ‘I would like that very much, Sir Rufus,’ she said, so relieved to be out and about—far away from the disturbing presence of Nathaniel Thorne!—that she did not even care if that visit to the hothouse involved another discourse on the merits of horse manure as fertiliser for those roses!

Sir Rufus looked pleased with her answer. ‘You will not be disappointed, I assure you.’

Elizabeth was not predisposed to be in the least disappointed. Indeed, she had managed to dismiss her previous misgivings about Sir Rufus completely after his rescue of Hector this morning and had accepted now that he was perhaps just a man ill at ease in society. Which was not a fault in his character, she thought, merely an awkwardness brought about by a lack of social intercourse.

He certainly seemed friendly and amiable enough this afternoon as he pointed out the local landmarks during their drive, the spectacular scenery another balm to Elizabeth’s ragged nerves. So much so that by the time they drove along the driveway to Gifford House, she was feeling relaxed enough in his company to contemplate introducing the subject of Sir Rufus’s younger brother. The real reason, after all, that she had accepted his invitation.

‘It is such a big house for you to live in alone, Sir Rufus.’ She looked up admiringly at the pleasantly situated three-storey red-bricked house as he helped her alight onto the gravel driveway.

‘I have lately begun to have hopes that might not always be the case.’ He tucked his hand proprietarily into the crook of her arm as they ascended the steps to the front door.

Ah. In her eagerness to broach the subject of Giles Tennant, Elizabeth had overlooked what Sir Rufus’s interpretation of such a remark might be! She gazed up at him with innocently wide blue eyes. ‘You are perhaps intending to have family come to stay for the summer?’

He gave her a chiding glance. ‘I believe I have already told you I have no family.’

‘Of course you did.’ Elizabeth gave a false laugh, grateful for the presence of Mrs Wilson’s maid following at a discreet distance behind them. ‘What a beautiful hallway!’ she announced not quite truthfully as they entered the house to stand in an entrance hall much less cavernous than the one at Hepworth Manor and yet which somehow felt so much colder.

In truth, it was not to Elizabeth’s taste at all, comprising of dark tiles upon the floor and the heads of game such as stag and deer mounted upon the walls—no doubt animals shot by Sir Rufus himself on his rides through the local woods and countryside. Whilst Elizabeth accepted that hunting was a way of country life, she had always been grateful that her father had never chosen to bring home trophies such as these from his own outings with the hunt.

‘Perhaps we might go straight to the hothouse?’ she suggested brightly, anxious to escape the glassy-eyed stares of those heads mounted upon the walls.

Sir Rufus raised dark brows as he handed his hat and cane to the waiting butler. ‘You would not prefer to take tea first?’

Tea might dispel some of the chill Elizabeth was now feeling, but not if the drawing room should also have these same unpleasant trophies displayed upon its walls. ‘I believe I am too eager to see the beauty of your roses to bother with tea just now.’ She made no effort to remove her own bonnet or pelisse, the chill of the house seeming to seep into her very bones after the warmth of the sunshine outside.

Sir Rufus beamed his approval. ‘Then that is what we shall do!’ That smile faded as he turned dismissively to the young maid who still accompanied them. ‘You may go along to the kitchen with Campbell.’

Annie looked uncertain at the suggestion, leading Elizabeth to question whether Nathaniel had issued the girl with instructions not to leave Elizabeth’s side during her outing with Sir Rufus. She did not doubt that the earl was arrogant enough to have done so!

‘Well, go along, girl,’ Sir Rufus snapped his impatience with Annie’s hesitation. ‘We will ring for you when it is time for Miss Thompson to leave.’

The maid shot Elizabeth a last lingering glance before turning to follow the butler through the door leading to the stairs down to the kitchen at the back of the house.

Leaving Elizabeth completely alone in Sir Rufus Tennant’s company.