The Lady Confesses

chapter Twelve

Nathaniel had not intended to ride anywhere near Gifford House when he set out that afternoon. And yet that was exactly where he now found himself, seated astride Midnight as he reined in at the end of the driveway leading up to that austere red-bricked residence, scowling as he saw the open carriage standing in front of the house and attended by a groom as evidence that Tennant and Elizabeth were together inside somewhere. With Elizabeth no doubt basking in Tennant’s obvious admiration for her—

He was being unfair now, Nathaniel acknowledged broodingly. Rufus Tennant had as much right to pay Elizabeth attention as the next man. Their interlude the previous evening certainly did not give Nathaniel exclusivity where that young lady was concerned, especially when he could see no future in it. Besides which, Tennant—damn him!—had proved himself to be the hero of the hour.

Yes, very likely Elizabeth no longer found Sir Rufus quite so boring as she once had and was even now bestowing those bright and beautiful smiles upon the other man as he proudly showed off his home to her.

A home which Nathaniel was beginning to suspect the other man intended offering to share with Elizabeth.



‘How busy you have been, Sir Rufus!’ Elizabeth was truly impressed with the numerous blooms displayed in the extensive hothouse attached to Gifford House. As much as she was relieved at the warmth inside the glass building following the chill she had felt inside Gifford House itself.

‘I have enjoyed growing roses since I was a boy,’ that gentleman announced proudly as they strolled the pathways between the dozens of colourful and scented blooms.

‘An interesting hobby, to be sure.’ Elizabeth nodded politely.

‘I believe it has become more of an obsession than a hobby,’ Sir Rufus admitted. ‘Indeed, it has been a lifelong wish of mine to produce an original bloom.’

‘And have you succeeded?’ Having just spotted a display of the bloom Purity sent to her only two days ago, Elizabeth was anxious to divert Sir Rufus’s attention.

‘Indeed I have,’ that gentleman confirmed as he led the way to the far end of the hothouse where a rose grew in separate splendour from the rest of the blooms.

It was indeed a beautiful flower, Elizabeth acknowledged: a huge cream-coloured bloom lightly tinged with peach at the ends of the petals and giving off a strong and heady perfume as Elizabeth bent over it admiringly. ‘And what have you named your rose, Sir Rufus?’

‘Nothing as yet. I once thought to name it Harriet’s Innocence,’ he added with a frown. ‘But now that I have at last been successful I am not so sure…’ He looked down at her with an intensity that Elizabeth found slightly uncomfortable.

So much so that for a few moments she almost missed the significance of the original name Sir Rufus had chosen for his rose.

Harriet…

The same name as Elizabeth’s own mother. Could that be a coincidence?



Nathaniel had absolutely no idea what he was about knocking on the front door of Gifford House, his riding crop tapping impatiently upon one muscled thigh as he waited for the butler to open the door in answer to that knock.

By rights he should have just continued on with his ride back to Hepworth Manor. Except Nathaniel had found he could not. He had not liked the idea of Elizabeth going riding in Tennant’s carriage with him this afternoon in the first place; the fact that gentleman had now brought her back to his home, with only one of Mrs Wilson’s young maids as chaperon, Nathaniel considered to be completely improper.

At least, that is what he had told himself when he urged Midnight into a gallop down the drive, before throwing the reins to the attendant groom and sliding from the saddle to run up the steps to the front door. Nathaniel considered that any further soul searching into his reasons could wait until after he had returned a suitably chastened Elizabeth to the safe guardianship of Mrs Wilson at Hepworth Manor.



Elizabeth straightened slowly, bewildered as to what significance Sir Rufus’s original choice of name for his rose might have. Or if it had any significance at all…

She was unsure as yet as to whether or not Giles Tennant had been the young gentleman with whom her mother had run off to London. Although she would now say not; surely Sir Rufus would never have thought to name a rose after the woman responsible for his brother’s disgrace and suicide?


No, that would make no sense at all, Elizabeth realised heavily, meaning that she must have been mistaken all along, that there was, after all, no mystery attached to the death of Giles Tennant that related to the Copelands in any way.

None of which in the least changed the covetous way in which Sir Rufus was now looking at her!

Elizabeth realised belatedly that she should not have agreed to come to his hothouse alone with him, that she had placed herself in a position of vulnerability by doing so. Sir Rufus might be inclined to believe she welcomed his attentions.

She stepped away from him. ‘I believe it is time I returned to Hepworth Manor, Sir Rufus,’ she announced briskly. ‘Mrs Wilson will be—Sir Rufus…!’ Elizabeth gasped in protest as she found herself suddenly pulled into that gentleman’s arms and crushed against his chest as he rained kisses upon her face. ‘Sir Rufus, stop this at once!’

‘You are so beautiful, Elizabeth!’ He continued to hold her firmly in his arms as he kissed her throat and ears, knocking her bonnet askew as he did so. ‘So innocent. So—’

‘Sir Rufus, please!’ Elizabeth attempted to fight against the muscled strength of his shoulders, only to find herself held prisoner by the steely arms that surrounded her and now held her so close that it was impossible for her to move at all. ‘You—’ All further protest was silenced as Sir Rufus claimed her lips with his own.

It was a kiss totally unlike the ones Elizabeth had shared with Nathaniel and afforded her none of the same pleasure. Sir Rufus’s lips, overly moist, were also hard and demanding upon hers as he bent her back in his arms, kissing her with an insistence that bordered on painful. She—

‘Perhaps I have called at an inconvenient time…?’ There was no missing the hard edge to that otherwise pleasant tone.

However Sir Rufus seemed unaware of the earl’s presence as he continued to kiss Elizabeth with a thoroughness she found unpleasant at best and nauseating at worst. In fact, if Sir Rufus did not cease this attack in the next few moments Elizabeth was afraid she would be forced to succumb to a faint for the first time in her life!

‘Tennant!’

The sharpness of Nathaniel’s voice finally seemed to permeate whatever haze of passion Sir Rufus had been lost in, his eyes a stormy blue as he raised his head to look down briefly at Elizabeth and gather her possessively to his side before turning to look at the man standing further down the hothouse. ‘How dare you enter here uninvited?’ he demanded furiously.

‘Your butler would no doubt have announced me if you had not been…otherwise occupied at the time.’ Glacial brown eyes swept disdainfully over the older man. ‘As it was, I thought it wise to dismiss him and announce myself.’ That icily cold gaze now shifted onto Elizabeth, she having at last managed to free herself from the confinement of Sir Rufus’s arms and to step away from him.

She could only imagine how this situation must have looked when Nathaniel entered the hothouse. Certainly she did not need a mirror to know that her bonnet was completely askew, her curls along with it, her eyes bright with unshed tears, cheeks flushed and her lips feeling as if they might actually be swollen as well as bruised.

If that wasn’t enough, the disgust she could see in Nathaniel’s expression clearly showed he believed her to have encouraged Sir Rufus’s advances!

Elizabeth’s nausea returned. ‘My lord—’

‘I will give you every opportunity to explain yourself later, Elizabeth,’ Nathaniel bit out between clenched teeth before turning the full force of his obvious anger upon Sir Rufus. ‘In the meantime, I will be borrowing your carriage, Tennant, in order to drive Elizabeth back to Hepworth Manor. Your groom will return with it later—’

‘Now see here—’

‘I advise—unless you wish me to challenge you here and now?—that you not attempt to argue the point, Tennant.’ Nathaniel was so furious that he was in danger of striding the short distance that separated them and putting to good use the hours he had spent practising in the ring and for which he had something of a reputation amongst the gentlemen of the ton.

A fact Tennant was also well acquainted with if the pallor of his cheeks was any indication. ‘The fighting of duels is forbidden by the Crown,’ he spluttered.

Nathaniel gave a humourless smile. ‘Then it is as well there is no member of the Crown here at this moment to witness it, is it not?’

‘Nathaniel—’

‘I have suggested that you wait until later to explain yourself, Elizabeth.’ The mildness of his tone was totally belied by the livid glitter of his gaze as it once again swept over her with utter disdain.

‘But—’

‘You will be silent!’ Nathaniel was so angry—with Elizabeth, for her na?vety in placing herself in this tenuous position, as much as with Tennant having taking advantage of that inexperience—that he was seriously in danger of losing his composure altogether.

Something he never did.

As an only child of loving parents, Nathaniel knew he had been self-willed during his youth, with a wildness to match. Following the shock of his parents’ death, and his long acquaintance with his arrogantly self-assured Uncle Bastian, as well as Gabriel Faulkner and Dominic Vaughn, he had learnt to control that wilful temper and to behave on most occasions with the same indifference as his two best friends. Seeing Elizabeth in Tennant’s arms being thoroughly kissed by the other man, had pierced that icy control so deeply that he badly longed to beat Tennant to a pulp before shaking Elizabeth until her teeth rattled in her head. Or making love to her so passionately she was in no doubt as to whom she belonged with!

Which would not do at all. ‘Come, Elizabeth,’ he instructed harshly, waiting until she had hesitantly crossed the short distance to his side, his hand firmly about the top of her arm, before turning his attention back to the other man. ‘It would be better for all concerned if you did not call at Hepworth Manor again until after I have taken my own leave.’

Sir Rufus’s eyes narrowed to icy slits. ‘I do not take seriously threats from dissolute rakes such as yourself!’

Elizabeth drew in a sharp breath, knowing by Nathaniel’s sudden stillness that the other man had just overstepped a line and had delivered an insult Nathaniel could not ignore.

Not that she would not relish the idea of Sir Rufus being taken down a peg or two after the way he had manhandled her only minutes ago, but she did not want to risk Nathaniel suffering any harm, either socially or physically. Socially, he ran the risk of being banished by the ton on instruction from the Crown for the fighting of a duel. And physically… A single glance at the tensed muscles beneath Nathaniel’s perfectly tailored black superfine, and the lithe fitness of the rest of his body, was enough to tell her that he was more than capable of besting the older man in any show of physical strength, even with his still-healing injuries.

Nevertheless, Elizabeth knew that her coming here alone with Sir Rufus was directly responsible for the tense situation that now existed between these two men. ‘Could we just leave now, Nathaniel? Please?’ She turned to look up at him beseechingly. ‘I am feeling decidedly unwell,’ she added encouragingly.

For several more tense seconds she feared her pleas would be unheard as the men continued to glare coldly at each other, then she felt some of the tension ease from Nathaniel’s body as his fingers loosened slightly about her arm and he drew in a long controlling breath before addressing the other man contemptuously. ‘Just as I do not take seriously an insult from a man who attempts the seduction of a young and unprotected lady!’

Those pale blue eyes continued to meet the challenge of Nathaniel’s for several long seconds, leading Elizabeth to fear that the earl’s disdainful remark might have only added fuel to the fire.

Until Sir Rufus’s pale blue gaze shifted onto her, becoming softer, almost pleading. ‘I apologise, Elizabeth, if any of my actions just now…frightened you. I should not have allowed myself to be so overcome by your beauty that I forgot your innocence.’ He bowed deeply in apology.

It was an apology that did nothing to dispel the revulsion she now felt at the memory of those moist and demanding lips upon her own, of being held helpless in Sir Rufus’s hard embrace as he plundered her mouth with a thoroughness that made her feel ill just to think of it.

But those memories had no place in a situation that was still so edged with the potential danger of an illegal duel being fought over her. ‘Your apology is accepted, Sir Rufus,’ she said stiffly before turning away from him to once again look pleadingly up at Nathaniel. ‘May we please go now, my lord?’

Nathaniel was still fighting the inner need he felt to pummel the other man to within an inch of his life and enjoy every moment of doing so for daring to so much as touch Elizabeth, let alone kiss her!

Instead he looked across at the other man coldly as he repeated his earlier statement. ‘Your carriage and groom will be returned to you later today.’

Nathaniel kept a firm hold of Elizabeth’s arm as he strode back into the house, through the dark hallway and back outside into the fresh and invigorating spring air, drawing several deep breaths into his lungs before approaching the carriage standing ready on the driveway.


‘Tie my horse to the back and get on, man,’ he instructed the groom tersely as he helped Elizabeth to climb safely into the carriage before stepping up to sit beside her and take up the reins. ‘Not a word until we are safely back in the privacy of Hepworth Manor,’ he warned between gritted teeth as Elizabeth turned on the seat with the obvious intention of speaking to him. Nathaniel was fully aware of the listening groom seated behind them if Elizabeth was not.

She looked somewhat bewildered before frowning. ‘But what of Mrs Wilson’s maid?’

‘Is it not a little late for you to have remembered that young lady’s existence?’ Nathaniel asked even as he drew the horses up sharply and turned to the groom. ‘Go and fetch the maid,’ he ordered.

‘She is in the kitchen,’ Elizabeth added, waiting until the young groom had run off to the back of the house before turning back to Nathaniel. ‘The situation you witnessed just now was not what it seemed, my lord.’

‘No?’ He looked coldly down the length of his arrogant nose at her. ‘It appears to me you are a young lady who habitually embroils herself in unseemly “situations”, Elizabeth. Or perhaps it is as I once suggested and you’ve been doing your best to procure a proposal from either Tennant or myself?’

Nathaniel had meant to wound, and he had succeeded. Elizabeth drew in a sharp breath at this painful reminder of her wanton behaviour in his arms the evening before, realising it rendered her defenceless in the scene Nathaniel had just interrupted.

For her to claim that her unrestrained response to Nathaniel’s lovemaking had been due to feelings which she dared not even acknowledge to herself would only leave her open to further ridicule and his certain rejection.

He was unlike any other man of Elizabeth’s acquaintance. Certainly she could never have found a man such as Sir Rufus Tennant in the least attractive after knowing the kisses and intimate caresses of Nathaniel Thorne!

‘You are being unfair, Nathaniel,’ she told him emotionally.

‘If I am, then you will have plenty of opportunity to challenge that unfairness once we are safely returned to Hepworth Manor,’ he assured her grimly as the groom thankfully returned with the maid at that moment and the two of them jumped onto the back of the carriage, allowing Nathaniel to urge the horses onwards.

There was silence in the carriage for several minutes until Elizabeth spoke with a softness intended only for his ears. ‘Will you—do you intend telling Mrs Wilson of this—regrettable situation?’

‘I believe I will have to tell her something. If I do not, she will wonder why one of her closest neighbours, the man who only this morning rescued her “darling Hector”, has suddenly taken it into his head not to call on her again,’ he replied just as quietly.

Elizabeth caught her bottom lip briefly between her teeth before speaking again. ‘You believe Sir Rufus will heed your advice and not call at Hepworth Manor again whilst you are staying there?’

Was that relief or disappointment he heard in her voice? Or perhaps just morbid curiosity? Was she was romantic enough, na?ve enough, to relish the idea of two men fighting a duel over her honour?

‘Mourning the separation from your middle-aged admirer already, Elizabeth?’ .

Her cheeks became even paler. ‘You must know that I am not.’

‘Must I?’

She sucked in a painful breath. ‘Yes.’

Nathaniel sighed. ‘I have no wish to talk of this any further just now, Elizabeth,’ he said, knowing his murderous feelings towards the older man were still barely held in check—a somewhat disturbing admission from a man who had for years prided himself on the ease of his self-control and leading him to the conclusion that perhaps it was indeed time that he returned to his life in London…

He had still received no reply from his own correspondence to Gabriel, so had no idea whether or not either Westbourne or Blackstone were even in town. But even if they were not, Nathaniel would surely be able to find some other amusing company to occupy him, female company that would surely put Miss Elizabeth Thompson firmly from his mind as well as ease his aching need for physical release.

Yes, returning to London, to the bed of an experienced courtesan, now held an allure Nathaniel knew it would be foolish of him to ignore.