The Lady Confesses

chapter Six

Elizabeth drew in a deep breath, a smile fixed on her lips as she turned to face the earl standing so confidently in the hallway behind her. ‘I am sure that Viscount Rutledge’s attentions to me are nothing but a politeness on his part, my lord,’ she dismissed coolly.

Nathaniel did not miss the unspoken implication that ‘politeness’ was a trait Elizabeth did not feel he, personally, possessed!

‘Nor would I consider Sir Rufus to be middle-aged,’ she continued.

But she would consider him to be an admirer…?

Quite rightly so, Nathaniel acknowledged with a frown. The other man was only eight and thirty, and passably wealthy. Observation of Tennant had also shown him to have been watching Elizabeth constantly throughout the evening, often with an intensity that bordered on rudeness. ‘Do you not consider it a little greedy on your part, when there are several other single young ladies here this evening, to have so obviously bewitched all the single gentlemen present?’ he rasped.

Her sapphire gaze swept over him dismissively. ‘Not all, my lord.’

Nathaniel was not as convinced of that as she appeared to be; certainly he had found he had been watching her more this evening than was necessary—or wise—too.

Young women of Elizabeth Thompson’s station in life, whilst perhaps suitable for marriage to a man of lower rank, were completely unsuitable for any role in an earl’s life other than as his mistress; there was an air of independence about this young lady that said she would be totally averse to such a suggestion, from him or any other gentleman.

Which posed a serious question for Nathaniel as to what he was to do about his rapidly growing attraction towards her…

‘Warm evening, is it not, Osbourne?’ Viscount Rutledge returned to present Elizabeth with a glass of punch, a rotund man who invariably beamed good humour—even so, Nathaniel had heard, when the man was sending some poor devil off to be incarcerated in prison for several years!

‘Very warm, sir.’ Nathaniel replied.

‘Perhaps you would care to take my punch and I will go back for another?’ The older man offered him the second glass.

‘Not at all,’ Nathaniel refused evenly as he gave an inward shudder at the thought of drinking such a sweet concoction. ‘I merely came over to secure Miss Thompson for the next set of dances.’

‘Good for you.’ The older man beamed. ‘You will not regret it; I do not think I have met a partner so light on her feet for many a year.’

Elizabeth blushed, both at the obviously well-meaning compliment and the fact that Lord Thorne had not asked her to dance at all, but instead now placed her in the position of having to stand up with him for the next set or name him the liar he had earlier called her!

It was not that she did not find the earl an exciting man to dance with—he was possibly far too exciting—but she was unhappy about the fact that she had been so totally aware of him as they’d danced together earlier. She had also found herself watching him rather too closely as he’d danced with others. Elizabeth thought perhaps it was best for her peace of mind if she did not dance with him again this evening…

Her saviour came in an unexpected—but not necessarily unwelcome—form.

‘Our dance, I believe, Miss Thompson?’ Sir Rufus announced firmly as he joined their group.

Elizabeth had only said she would dance with him again later in the evening if there was time. ‘Of course, Sir Rufus. If you will excuse us, gentlemen?’ She handed her empty punch glass to the scowling earl before leaving on Sir Rufus’s arm.

‘Intelligent as well as pretty gel, that,’ Giles Rutledge murmured as Nathaniel was left holding an empty punch glass rather than Elizabeth.

His mouth tightened as his narrowed gaze followed her progress back into the ballroom. ‘So it would seem.’

Giles chuckled. ‘Has she worked in your aunt’s household for very long?’

For far too long in Nathaniel’s frustrated opinion. In fact, it might have been better for all concerned if she had never come to work for his aunt at all.



‘You really should tell Mrs Wilson if young Osbourne’s attentions are becoming a nuisance.’

Elizabeth glanced sharply up at Sir Rufus as they danced. ‘I have no idea what you mean, sir.’ But, of course, she did. And no doubt Mrs Wilson would have something to say to her, either later tonight or first thing tomorrow morning, concerning her nephew’s marked attentions towards her. The matter was not currently helped by the fact that Lord Thorne and Viscount Rutledge had returned to the ballroom and the former was once again watching her from beneath hooded lids.


Elizabeth had been invited to join the party this evening to make up the numbers, not, as Nathaniel Thorne had pointed out so mockingly earlier, to find herself engaging the attentions of every single gentleman present.

Although it was rather a pleasant feeling to be so popular, Elizabeth acknowledged ruefully, after years of being secluded in the country, where there was only her father, Squire Castle or his son Malcolm that her father had considered as suitable partners for his daughters to stand up with at the local Assemblies.

‘That man is becoming a damned irritant,’ Sir Rufus grumbled as he obviously also noted the younger man’s presence. ‘Every time I turn around, there he is at your elbow.’

Elizabeth doubted that too many people—most especially the women—would consider the Earl of Osbourne’s attentions as an ‘irritant’! Nor did she welcome the almost possessive tone she had heard in Sir Rufus’s voice.

‘I am sure he is just being kind.’ Elizabeth kept her lashes lowered so that this pompously autocratic man should not see the anger glittering in her eyes; her role of humble companion, she had found, was becoming more and more difficult to maintain in a room full of her peers.

Diana had always acted as their father’s hostess during the rare social occasions at Shoreley Park, but Caroline and Elizabeth had also been expected to make their guests welcome and see to their comfort. Here, amongst the local and landed gentry of Devonshire, she had found herself behaving in the same way, which surely was not a role that Betsy Thompson would ever have presumed to take upon herself!

Sir Rufus responded with a sceptical snort. ‘Men like Osbourne are not kind to beautiful young women out of the goodness of their hearts.’

She took exception to Sir Rufus’s comment—despite having said exactly the same thing herself to the earl’s face only days ago! It was one thing for Elizabeth to say it, quite another for this man to do so.

She looked up at him with deliberately innocent eyes. ‘What other reason could there possibly be?’

‘Why, the obvious one, of course!’

‘Obvious, sir?’ Surely this man would not dare to voice anything so outrageous in her presence?

‘From all that I have heard, Osbourne prefers to take his mistresses from his inferiors.’

He would dare!

It was an indecent indiscretion Sir Rufus also seemed to become aware of as he began to bluster. ‘Not that I am suggesting for one moment that you have in any way encouraged his attentions—’

‘Perhaps that is as well!’ Elizabeth came to a halt in the dancing. ‘If you will excuse me, Sir Rufus? I—I feel I have danced enough for one evening.’ She turned and walked from the dance floor, in the opposite direction from where Lord Thorne now stood conversing with Lady Miller.

‘Miss Thompson!’

Unwisely, Sir Rufus had followed her. Even more unwisely, he had dared to grasp Elizabeth’s arm and turn her to face him once again. She feared she really had suffered enough of this boorish man’s company for one evening! ‘Release me at once, Sir Rufus,’ she spoke quietly, but the force behind her words was unmistakable.

A warning he quite rightly heeded as his hand dropped back to his side. ‘I meant you no insult—’

Tears of humiliation had gathered on Elizabeth’s lashes as she looked up at him. ‘Whether it was your intention to do so or not, that is obviously what has occurred, sir.’ Her chin rose proudly.

He attempted a placatory smile, but it was as though the gesture were not one he was familiar with. ‘I do most sincerely apologise, Miss Thompson.’

‘Your apology is accepted,’ Elizabeth replied, very aware that those hot tears were close to falling down her cheeks.

‘I had intended to ask Mrs Wilson if I might take you out driving in my carriage tomorrow afternoon,’ he said.

Elizabeth bit her tongue to stop the sharp reply that sprang to her lips; unbelievably this man insulted her and then expected her to go out driving with him in his carriage tomorrow! ‘I am afraid that will not be possible, Sir Rufus—’

‘You can even bring that wretched animal with you if you wish,’ he offered with obvious distaste.

A reluctant concession that only made Elizabeth all the more determined to refuse him. ‘I am sure my time will be taken up tomorrow with helping to tidy away after this evening’s festivities,’ she said.

‘Mrs Wilson has servants to do that—’ He broke off with an uncomfortable wince.

‘And I believe we have just decided I am one of them,’ Elizabeth pointed out acerbically. ‘Now you really must excuse me.’ She did not trouble herself to wait for his reply, but instead quietly slipped out of the French doors that led out onto the terrace at the back of the house, moving to stand beside the metal balustrade and draw in deep breaths of air as she tried to stop those scalding tears from cascading down her cheeks.

And failed.

What an absolutely priggish man Sir Rufus Tennant was! How dared he—? Who did he think that he was—? To have insulted her so by implying—ooh!

Elizabeth was enraged. Incensed. Her evening totally ruined. Nor, she knew, would she ever again take for granted the feelings of her own maid Mary.

Not that she believed she had ever been unkind to that cheerful and obliging young lady, but having played the subservient role herself this past two weeks, Elizabeth better appreciated Mary’s efforts on her behalf, and now realised that even the slight of taking those efforts for granted could be hurtful.

Had Mary ever had to suffer the unwanted attentions and insults of men such as Sir Rufus Tennant? If she had, then Elizabeth could only pity her—

‘Elizabeth?’

Even if she had not instantly recognised those husky sensual tones as belonging to Nathaniel Thorne, she would have known it was he; the earl was the only person at Hepworth Manor who insisted on calling her by her given name.

And she was standing here like a ninny with tears of humiliation scalding her cheeks and no doubt also causing her eyes to appear red and puffy!



Nathaniel, having witnessed Elizabeth’s altercation with Tennant and her abrupt departure from the house, was not in the least reassured now by the fact that she would not so much as turn and look at him. ‘Elizabeth—’

‘Go away, my lord! Please!’ she added less forcefully.

Nathaniel strolled across the terrace to stand beside her, the moonlight strong enough to allow him to see the whiteness of her knuckles as she tightly gripped the metal railing. A glance up at her averted face also revealed the evidence of tears on the paleness of the cheek visible to him. Nathaniel frowned as he reached out to grasp her arms and turn her to face him, to see more evidence of those tears on her other cheek. He looked down at her searchingly before taking her into his arms, the softness of her dark curls resting against his chest as his arms encircled the slenderness of her waist.

Perhaps not the most sensible thing for him to have done, considering he had hardly been able to take his eyes off her all evening!

He had meant to offer her comfort and hopefully was doing that. But the close proximity of her soft and alluring curves, the beguiling feminine perfume of her hair, were all having their effect upon his own senses. Nathaniel could feel the stirring of his arousal—a fact that she would also soon become aware of if he continued to hold her so closely against him!

He put her slightly away from him. ‘What did Tennant do or say to upset you so?’ he demanded.

She shook her head. ‘It is not important—’

‘I disagree.’

‘Please release me so that I may get my handkerchief from my pocket.’ She looked up at him pleadingly.

A plea that Nathaniel acceded to as he saw the fresh tears escaping over her long lashes and down her cheeks, waiting until she had mopped them up before speaking again. ‘Did Tennant proposition you?’

Elizabeth gave a choked laugh at that irony. ‘No, of course he did not.’

‘Then what did he do?’ Nathaniel scowled down at her darkly. ‘And do not tell me he did nothing, because I will not believe you.’

She drew in a deep and steadying breath before answering him evenly. ‘What you do or do not choose to believe is of no relevance to me.’

‘Indeed?’ he drawled drily. ‘Then perhaps I should discuss this incident with my aunt.’

Elizabeth gasped. ‘You will do no such thing—’

‘And how do you intend to stop me from doing so?’ He raised a mocking brow.

She glared up at him in frustration, knowing that the patient expression on his face was nothing but an illusion; she could feel the earl’s inner displeasure as it came off him in waves.

Elizabeth was uncomfortably aware of how alone they were out here on the terrace, none of the other guests having yet felt the need to escape out into the cooling air, leaving the stillness of the night to enshroud just the two of them in its intimacy.

She shifted awkwardly. ‘Perhaps we should go back inside.’

‘Not until you have told me what Tennant did to upset you,’ Nathaniel maintained stubbornly, the shield of his body not allowing her to go back inside without his agreement, which he had no intention of giving, not until he knew exactly what Tennant had said or done to reduce the normally stubbornly resilient Elizabeth to tears.


Seeing her distress had caused a tightening in his chest, at the same time as he felt an inner surge of violence towards the man who had caused it. He would know the reason why before he ripped Tennant to verbal, if not physical, shreds!

Elizabeth looked up at him beneath long and silky dark lashes. ‘Are you really sure you wish to know, my lord?’

Her comment instantly alerted Nathaniel to the fact that he might have somehow featured in the way Tennant had hurt Elizabeth and he became even more determined to discover what had happened. ‘Very sure,’ he bit out tersely, a nerve pulsing in his tightly clenched jaw.

‘Very well.’ She gave a slight inclination of her head. ‘Sir Rufus was concerned, owing to the fact that he seems to find you constantly ‘at my elbow’, as to your intentions towards me.’

‘My intentions?’

The wariness in his tone was enough to make Elizabeth smile forlornly. ‘He seemed to be under the impression that you choose your mistresses from the lower classes.’

‘Good God!’ The earl looked astounded. ‘He actually said that to you?’

‘Yes.’ Elizabeth’s smile widened as her sense of humour returned to her, no doubt due to the earl’s genuine astonishment that Sir Rufus Tennant should have discussed such an indelicate subject with her at all. Elizabeth had been shocked at the time, but after Nathaniel Thorne’s reaction she could not help but begin to find the incident amusing. She coughed delicately. ‘He seemed to be under the impression that you might very shortly attempt to offer me that position, seeing that I fit your preferences.’

Considering Nathaniel’s own thoughts had touched briefly on the same subject earlier this evening—and the way his erection throbbed achingly just from holding Elizabeth briefly in his arms a few minutes ago—he could have well done without Tennant’s less-than-discreet remarks.

He eyed Elizabeth beneath hooded lids. ‘And what were your thoughts on the subject?’

She gave a small trill of incredulous laughter. ‘I assured him that it was not even a possibility, of course.’

Of course. So it was a pity that Nathaniel’s own thoughts were still so undecided.

There was no doubting that he was attracted to this young beauty, or that it was an unsuitable attraction, considering her position in his aunt’s household. But as he had watched her throughout the evening and felt himself drawn to the sensuous elegance of her body as she danced, had witnessed the easy charm with which she dealt with those around her, he had begun to wonder if it might not be possible to tempt Elizabeth away from her employment here and set her up in a discreet household of her own, where he might visit her whenever he felt so inclined.

Which, considering the arousal caused from just briefly holding the soft warmth of her feminine curves against his own would no doubt be often in the first few weeks of that arrangement!

But it was an arrangement he dared not even think of suggesting now after Tennant’s ham-fisted handling of the situation—which had perhaps been the other man’s intent? he mused.

‘My lord?’ Elizabeth eyed him warily now.

Nathaniel sighed inwardly. ‘It is usually polite to wait until one is asked before one says no.’ Especially if the mere suggestion of it had reduced her to tears!

A frown appeared between her eyes. ‘I merely thought to share the absurdity of Sir Rufus’s suggestion with you, my lord.’

So not only had she found the suggestion so insulting it had reduced her to tears, but in retrospect she now found the very idea of such an arrangement absurd!

Neither of which was particularly flattering to a man’s ego, Nathaniel acknowledged ruefully. Especially when the remark was made by the young and beautiful woman he found so physically arousing! ‘You realise the reason for Tennant’s interference, I hope?’ he said.

Elizabeth was not so na?ve that she did not realise exactly the reason for Sir Rufus’s boorish behaviour. But if he had thought to endear himself to her by acting as her protector in the bluntly crude way he had tonight, then he was going to be sadly disappointed. A gentleman simply did not discuss such matters with a single young lady, no matter how lowly her station in life might appear to be.

She gave a shake of her head. ‘I do not at all return Sir Rufus’s interest.’

‘You still have no inclination to accept an offer of marriage if he were to make one?’

‘I do not.’ Elizabeth barely managed to repress her shiver of revulsion at the very idea of marriage to a man such as Sir Rufus Tennant.

‘I am glad to hear it,’ Nathaniel said with obvious relief.

‘Are you?’ Elizabeth eyed him curiously. ‘Why?’

He returned that frown for several long tension-filled seconds before answering evasively, ‘Can you really see yourself incarcerated in the country for the rest of your life?’

As that had been Elizabeth’s fate until a few short weeks ago, she had to suppress a smile! ‘Devonshire is certainly a very beautiful part of England.’ She shrugged.

‘I doubt it would hold the same appeal if you were the wife of a pompous and self-opinionated man like Tennant.’ Nathaniel’s lips twisted into a moue of distaste.

‘Perhaps not everyone finds Sir Rufus as…trying, as we do?’ Elizabeth suggested fairly.

‘I doubt that is true, considering he is still unmarried at eight and thirty,’ Nathaniel said brusquely, having every intention of speaking severely to that gentlemen on the subject of Elizabeth Thompson before the evening came to an end.

‘Perhaps he has remained unmarried through choice?’ she mused.

‘Perhaps.’

Elizabeth glanced at him thoughtfully. ‘You speak as if you might know the reason for that choice.’

Nathaniel shook his head. ‘I do not believe anyone knows Tennant well enough to know that.’ Certainly not well enough to say with any certainty as to whether or not Sir Rufus had indeed been somewhat unhinged by the suicide of his younger brother all those years ago. ‘I am merely trying to point out the oddity of a personable and reasonably wealthy man such as Sir Rufus still being unwed at the advanced age of eight and thirty.’

‘In what way odd?’ she pounced.

Nathaniel seriously regretted even broaching this subject. Not because he did not wish to turn Elizabeth’s sympathy away from Sir Rufus—because he most certainly did—but Giles Tennant taking his own life had left a nasty taste in the mouths of all in society.

Affairs in society, and there were many, were usually conducted behind closed doors, well away from prying eyes and the sight, if not the knowledge, of one’s spouse. That Giles Tennant had not only conducted such an affair with a married woman, but that the woman in question had actually deserted her husband and children to be openly at his side, had shaken society to its very foundations.

The two had been ostracised totally, of course; affairs were an accepted part of society, but a young man living openly with a married woman who had deserted her husband and children was not.

Even so, the two had remained in London, seemingly too much in love with each other to care that society now shunned them. And so Sir Rufus Tennant had been called upon to try to talk some sense into his younger brother. Which he had obviously failed to do; the couple had continued to live openly together for several more weeks before Giles had killed first his married lover, then himself.

Surely that was enough to unhinge even the most emotionally balanced of men, as Sir Rufus Tennant had always been considered to be?

‘Lord Thorne…?’

‘I apologise.’ Nathaniel shook off the darkness of his memories at Elizabeth’s softly spoken query; after all, it had been many years ago—he had only known Giles Tennant socially, and his married lover not at all. ‘I was merely wondering if perhaps the reason for Sir Rufus’s comments was because his own intentions towards you are no more honourable than he has claimed mine to be?’ he suggested.

Her eyes widened. ‘You believe he might offer to make me his mistress?’

‘It is a possibility,’ Nathaniel allowed grimly.

Elizabeth considered she had heard quite enough on that particular subject this evening! ‘Then it appears I would be well advised to avoid being alone in the company of both of you.’

‘Eliz—’

‘I wish you goodnight, Lord Thorne,’ she added firmly before turning swiftly on her heel and going back into the warmth and noise of the ballroom.

Well away from the disturbing company of Nathaniel Thorne.