The Lady Confesses

chapter Thirteen

As chance would have it, there was no opportunity for Elizabeth and Nathaniel to talk privately when they returned to Hepworth Manor, Nathaniel having remained outside to see to the return of Sir Rufus’s carriage and groom, and Mrs Wilson immediately demanding that Elizabeth attend her in her private parlour.

‘Sit down and tell me all, my dear!’ Mrs Wilson beamed up at her conspiratorially as she patted the chaise beside her.

Elizabeth ignored the invitation, just as she intended resisting the other woman’s obvious intention of demanding the details of her outing with Sir Rufus—no doubt Nathaniel would regale his aunt with those scandalous details soon enough. ‘I am feeling rather dusty from the carriage ride, so would you mind very much if I went upstairs to my bedchamber to freshen up first?’ She smiled in an effort to lessen the other lady’s obvious disappointment.

‘No, of course not. But—ah, you are returned too, Osbourne.’ She turned to smile at her nephew as he strode into the parlour, a frown appearing on her brow as she saw the grimness of his expression. ‘Well, I must say that neither of you look at all refreshed from being out and about on such a beautiful day.’ She looked positively put out by the fact.

Elizabeth hardly dared look at Nathaniel, a single glance having shown her that he looked no less approachable now than he had during the carriage ride back to Hepworth Manor, his jaw firmly set, the expression in his eyes hidden by hooded lids.

But those two things were enough to tell her of his continued displeasure. ‘If you will both excuse me…’ Her head was lowered as she crossed the room on slippered feet; if it was now Nathaniel’s intention to tell his aunt the details of her disgrace, then Elizabeth would rather not be present when he did so.

Nathaniel reached out and took hold of Elizabeth’s arm as she reached his side. ‘There is no reason for you to leave on my account,’ he told her.

Elizabeth looked up at him beneath the dark fringe of her lashes. ‘I had already stated my wish to go up to my bedchamber before you came in, my lord.’

Nathaniel’s mouth tightened. ‘In the face of great opposition, I am sure,’ he drawled, knowing his aunt well enough to realise she would have wished to know every detail of Elizabeth’s afternoon spent in Sir Rufus’s company. Certain details of which Elizabeth would no doubt be reluctant to confide.

Elizabeth grimaced before murmuring softly. ‘I have decided to leave the disclosure of my disgrace in your own capable hands, my lord.’

He frowned darkly. ‘I—’

‘What are the two of you whispering about over there?’ his aunt demanded truculently, obviously displeased at being excluded from their conversation.

Nathaniel gave Elizabeth a last searching glance before releasing her arm to step across the parlour to join his aunt. ‘I am sure we have delayed Miss Thompson long enough, Aunt.’ He lifted the lid on the teapot and, discovering it was still warm, attended to pouring himself a cup, at the same time allowing Elizabeth to make good her escape.

His aunt looked perplexed as she noted the young girl’s hurried departure. ‘You do not suppose that Sir Rufus behaved in any way improperly towards Elizabeth, do you?’

Now was the time for Nathaniel to tell his aunt of the scene he had walked in on earlier, to reveal Elizabeth’s behaviour with Tennant.

Except by doing so Nathaniel knew he would be damning Elizabeth, and for all that she had behaved recklessly by going to Gifford House with Tennant accompanied only by his aunt’s maid, Nathaniel found he did not, after all, wish to see her belittled in his aunt’s eyes. Elizabeth obviously held a sincere affection for the older woman, an affection Mrs Wilson’s concern now indicated she returned.

‘I doubt that very much, Aunt.’ He made a show of sipping the lukewarm tea.

His aunt still gazed distractedly towards the doorway through which Elizabeth had so recently departed. ‘What do you make of her, Osbourne?’

Nathaniel almost choked on his mouthful of tea, swallowing the brew down with an effort before answering. ‘Why should you imagine I might make anything of her, Aunt?’ he returned with a wary guardedness.

His Aunt Gertrude gave him a reproving look. ‘I may occasionally give the impression of giddiness, Nathaniel, but do not take me for a fool,’ she advised.

‘I should never dream of doing so.’

His aunt nodded. ‘Then you cannot help but be aware that there is a mystery attached to that girl. And, unless I am mistaken, you are as intrigued by it as I.’ She eyed him speculatively.

Yes, he was, Nathaniel acknowledged heavily. Still. Despite, only hours after making love to her himself, having found Elizabeth locked in the arms of another man, being passionately kissed…



Elizabeth could never before remember feeling so bereft as she did now as she paced the confines of her bedchamber, easily able to imagine the conversation taking place downstairs in the parlour between Nathaniel and his aunt as he revealed her disgrace to that lady.


It would serve little purpose for Elizabeth to claim her innocence in the matter; she had been found in a compromising position—by Nathaniel Thorne, of all people!—with a man of only a few days’ acquaintance. Moreover, she knew that in her eagerness to be alone with Sir Rufus, so that she might question him further in regard to his brother, she and she alone was responsible for having placed herself in that vulnerable position. That she had received an answer without the need to voice so much as a single one of her queries was of little comfort when Elizabeth knew that Nathaniel now looked at her with contemptuous and suspicious eyes.

How could she have been so stupid, so reckless, when Sir Rufus had already shown such a partiality for her company, as to place herself so completely at his mercy in that way? In doing so, she had obviously earned Nathaniel’s disdain. That was what hurt Elizabeth the most. Not her own lack of caution. Not Sir Rufus having taken advantage of her na?vety. No, it was Nathaniel witnessing both those things which now upset her so.

What must he think of her now? What must he feel for her now?

As if Elizabeth really needed to ask herself either of those questions—it was obvious that he considered her to be either na?vely gauche or calculatingly manipulative in order to secure an offer of marriage. And what could Elizabeth possibly say in her own defence if Nathaniel accused her of such? Certainly not that she had acted unthinkingly, out of a single-minded need to discover whether or not Giles Tennant had been her mother’s lover. She—

Elizabeth stopped her pacing and turned sharply as a knock sounded on the door to her bedchamber. ‘Yes?’ she prompted warily; more curiosity from Mrs Wilson she could perhaps cope with without breaking down completely, more accusations from Nathaniel she could not.

It was a pity that when the door opened it was indeed Nathaniel standing outside in the hallway. ‘I believe we have an unfinished conversation, Elizabeth?’

She closed her eyes briefly before opening them again, only to find herself the focus of the full force of the contempt glittering in Nathaniel’s dark gaze. ‘I doubt your aunt would consider this an appropriate place for any sort of conversation between her nephew and a single young lady.’

Nathaniel easily heard the nervousness lurking beneath Elizabeth’s outward show of confidence. ‘There is no reason for my aunt to ever know of it.’ He stepped inside the bedchamber and closed the door behind him. ‘Are you feeling unwell?’ He frowned at the unmistakable pallor in her cheeks, visible now that she had removed her bonnet.

She gave a humourless smile. ‘I have been made love to against my will by one man, and accused of encouraging those advances by another gentleman in order to procure an offer of marriage, so, yes, I am feeling a little…agitated!’

Nathaniel’s brows rose. ‘You did not appear to be resisting Tennant’s advances when I entered the hothouse.’

Those blue eyes sparkled with indignation. ‘Perhaps that is because Sir Rufus made it impossible for me to free either my arms or my lips in order to do so!’

Nathaniel looked suddenly livid. ‘He forced his attentions upon you?’

Elizabeth hesitated in replying in the affirmative, aware as she was of Nathaniel having all but challenged the older man to a duel earlier; a challenge he would feel duty-bound to repeat if she, an employee of his aunt’s, were to confirm that Sir Rufus had kissed her against her will. Besides which, perhaps her going to Gifford House with Sir Rufus and entering the hothouse with him unchaperoned could be considered encouragement enough for what had followed?

She sighed. ‘I believe my own lack of…experience in such matters likely encouraged Sir Rufus in his misunderstanding of the situation.’ Elizabeth was aware of how ridiculous that claim must sound after her wanton behaviour in Nathaniel’s own arms the evening before, but it was all she had to offer.

What a tangle this was, to be sure—to be disgusted by the mere touch of one man, whilst at the same time unable to resist the attentions of another.

Perhaps her father had been in the right of it, after all, in refusing to allow his three young daughters to enter London society; Elizabeth, at least, had shown just how ill equipped she was to deal with the advances of older and so much more experienced gentlemen than herself.

She lowered her lashes. ‘I believe I may have forgotten to thank you earlier for your…timely intervention.’

Nathaniel gave a hard and humourless smile. ‘Any more “timely” and I may have come upon the two of you in a situation not easily forgotten by any man, let alone one who has been as intimate with you as I!’

Elizabeth gasped as the deliberate insult. ‘You would dare to talk of that now?’

‘Oh, I would dare any number of things,’ he said as he moved further into the bedchamber, those dark and glittering eyes narrowed. ‘As it is, you may be comforted by the fact that I have not as yet revealed this afternoon’s…indiscretion, to my aunt.’

Her chin rose proudly. ‘Why not?’

Nathaniel’s smile was completely lacking in humour. ‘You almost sound disappointed, Elizabeth.’

She shook her head. ‘Only surprised, my lord. It appears to me, in view of your obvious suspicion of me, that this would have been the ideal opportunity for you to persuade your aunt into immediately terminating my employment, rather than allowing me to leave of my own free will tomorrow.’

Instead of which Nathaniel had informed his aunt that he would be the one leaving Hepworth Manor the following day… His Aunt Gertrude had not taken the announcement well. Indeed, she had argued against it for several minutes after Nathaniel had told her of his decision to begin his journey back to London come the morning. Arguments Nathaniel had overridden by explaining that, after almost a week and a half of being confined to his bed, he had affairs of business to attend to in town that he could no longer ignore.

When, in actual fact, Nathaniel knew the real reason for his departure stood before him… Face pale, dark curls tousled, her gown less than pristine, Elizabeth still held an attraction for him from which he needed to distance himself if he were to find any peace of mind at all.

‘Indeed it would,’ he conceded coolly. ‘But, as you said earlier, it would hardly have been fair to discuss that situation with a third party until I was conversant with all the facts.’

‘And now that you are…?’

Now that he was, Nathaniel wanted nothing more than to return to Gifford House and tear Tennant limb from limb!

Such a violence of emotions was complete anathema to him. Unacceptable. Inexplicable. So much so that Nathaniel believed that the safest course of action was to put as many miles between himself and Elizabeth as was possible, and at the earliest opportunity.

He straightened determinedly. ‘I have informed my aunt that I shall be leaving Hepworth Manor in the morning—’

‘But why would you do such a thing when I have already stated that I will be leaving here tomorrow?’ Elizabeth gasped, too disconcerted by this announcement to even attempt to hide her dismay at the thought of him going.

Heavy lashed lids now hid the expression in those dark eyes. ‘I acknowledge that our own behaviour together has been less than wise, but I advise you not to be under any misapprehension that it gives you the right to question my future actions!’

Elizabeth felt as if she had received a slap to her cheek. Indeed, the coldness of Nathaniel’s tone was delivered with the same precision as a physical blow. ‘I apologise.’ She kept her lashes downcast so that he should not see the pain she was sure must be in her eyes at this verbal set-down. ‘I was merely surprised at the suddenness of your decision to leave here, that is all.’

Elizabeth was not a courtesan, or a young and lonely widow of the ton from whom Nathaniel usually picked his mistresses, but a young, single woman of genteel, if impoverished, quality, who had no choice but to work as a lady’s companion in order to support herself. As such Nathaniel could not in all conscience bed her, let alone offer her the role of his mistress for the several months it would take for him to become bored by her charms, as in doing so he would be robbing her of the only two things she had to offer a prospective husband—namely her reputation and her innocence. Indeed, in the present circumstances, Sir Rufus Tennant was more than a suitable match for a young woman such as Elizabeth.

Unable—unwilling!—to offer her anything more himself, Nathaniel knew he had no other choice but to bow gracefully out of Elizabeth’s life and so leave the way open for some other man—even Sir Rufus—to pay his addresses to her.

The fact that he still felt like pummelling the other man to within an inch of his life for so much as looking at Elizabeth, let alone touching her, told him that his departure had better be sooner rather than later!

‘Enjoyable as yesterday evening was, the truth is that I have other…commitments in town, which are desperately in need of my attentions.’

Simply from the way he said ‘other…commitments’ Elizabeth knew that he was referring to a woman. No doubt an older, more experienced woman, who, unlike Elizabeth, was more than a match for his extensive physical experience. An older, more experienced woman ‘desperately in need of his attentions’…


Nathaniel could not have stated any more clearly that he had merely been toying with her. That she had been but a diversion until he felt able to take up his previous life. Until he felt his health was returned enough to enable him to give his mistress those ‘attentions’!

Had she ever felt such misery before this? Elizabeth wondered numbly. Had she ever before so badly wanted, needed, to scream and shout at the depth of the hurt she was feeling?

She had certainly never felt the need to scratch and claw a faceless, nameless woman, whose only crime was to welcome a more-than-willing Nathaniel Thorne into both her arms and her bed.

Elizabeth moistened the numbness of her lips before speaking. ‘In that case it remains only for me to wish you a safe journey tomorrow, my lord.’

Nathaniel’s intention had been to put the necessary distance between himself and Elizabeth, both physically and socially—something that he had obviously succeeded in doing if the cool remoteness of her expression now was any indication. Such a neutral expression, in fact, that he contrarily wanted nothing more than to kiss her in order to find the warm and vibrant woman he had held in his arms the evening before.

An action guaranteed to further complicate an already unacceptable situation…’I accept your good wishes,’ he said distantly. ‘Will you now consider staying on here yourself?’ he could not resist enquiring.

Would she? Elizabeth wondered. Could she? Could she remain here in Devonshire, with all its attendant memories, after Nathaniel had returned to his life—and his mistress—in London?

She still had no idea whether or not Lord Gabriel Faulkner had quit Shoreley Park, or if he was perhaps still lurking there, with every intention of remaining until he had persuaded one of the Copeland sisters into marrying him. Nor could Elizabeth go back to London now that she knew Nathaniel was to be there; after the set-down he had just given her, she dared not run the risk of his accusing her of having followed him there!

She released her breath in a sigh. ‘I believe I shall.’

‘Do not look so forlorn, Elizabeth,’ the earl mocked her. ‘Perhaps Tennant will come up to scratch after all and offer you marriage!’

Elizabeth’s eyes flashed deeply blue as she looked across at him. ‘And if he were to do so, I would have no hesitation in refusing him!’

Nathaniel raised blond brows at her vehemence. ‘Would that not be rather…foolhardy, given your present circumstances?’

She frowned warily. ‘Foolhardy in what way, my lord?’

He gave an impatient snort. ‘Obviously if you were to marry Tennant you would become Lady Tennant.’

Elizabeth was already Lady Elizabeth! And much good it did her at this point in time…

‘There is that to consider, of course.’ She eyed Nathaniel scornfully. ‘You are quite correct in advising me not to act too hastily, my lord.’

Nathaniel eyed her impatiently, his frustration barely held in check. Could Elizabeth seriously be considering accepting if Rufus Tennant should offer her marriage? And had he himself not just advised her to consider such an offer carefully before refusing?

Yes, Nathaniel had done that—but only in the belief that Elizabeth would indeed refuse such an offer of marriage. Damn it, just the thought of her in Tennant’s bed every night was enough to effect a return of his earlier feelings of violence. As to his feelings concerning Tennant’s hands upon her deliciously curvaceous body—!

But if not Tennant, then it would someday be another man whom eventually wedded and bedded her…

‘I believe this conversation is now over, my lord,’ Elizabeth prompted as he now seemed in no hurry to quit her bedchamber. Something she dearly needed Nathaniel to do—before she could no longer hold back the hot tears burning the backs of her eyes and threatening to fall!

This had to be the very worst day of her life. The disappointment of realising that Sir Rufus’s brother offered no answers in regard to her mother’s death, followed by the indignity of suffering Sir Rufus’s kisses; to then be discovered by none other than Nathaniel Thorne, a man who had kissed and caressed her with such passion the evening before; now to be advised by that same gentleman that she should seriously consider any offer of marriage Sir Rufus might make to her—whatever tender emotions she might have felt towards Nathaniel Thorne must now surely be at an end?

‘Lord Thorne!’ she repeated sharply as he still made no answer.

His mouth had thinned, his jaw set disapprovingly. ‘I wish you every happiness in your future…endeavours.’

Elizabeth gave a curt inclination of her head. ‘And I wish the same for you.’

There was nothing more to be said, Nathaniel realised impatiently. Nothing more to be done. Just this stilted leave taking, between two unlikely people who had been thrown together, and whom circumstances had allowed to become closer than normal propriety permitted.

Nevertheless… ‘Elizabeth—’

‘We have said our goodbyes to each other, Nathaniel; let that be an end to it,’ she said with quiet finality.

Goodbye.

Yes, this was their goodbye, Nathaniel realised with a frown. Any further conversations between the two of them would take place in the presence of his aunt or Letitia and be all the more formal because of it. He would miss their verbal sparring. Would miss the parry and thrust of those private conversations. Deeply regretted that he would never hold Elizabeth in his arms again, that he would never kiss her again. Never caress her—

‘I really must ask you to leave my bedchamber now, my lord,’ Elizabeth insisted waspishly.

Nathaniel straightened abruptly, his bow brief and his expression coldly remote. ‘No doubt I will see you at dinner.’

‘No doubt.’ Her curtsy was just as formal.

Elizabeth stood and watched as Nathaniel walked from her bedchamber, knowing that any further meetings between the two of them before his departure tomorrow would be as Lord Nathaniel Thorne, Earl of Osbourne, and Miss Elizabeth Thompson, the young and impoverished companion of his aunt.