The Lady Confesses

chapter Seven

‘I wonder if you would mind leaving us for a while, Letitia?’ Mrs Wilson smiled kindly at her cousin, as the three ladies sat together in the drawing room. ‘I wish to talk privately to Betsy for a few minutes.’

The day following Mrs Wilson’s dinner party had proved to be a busy one for Elizabeth, the morning spent, as she had predicted, in helping to tidy away, and the afternoon with receiving those ladies wishing to call and thank Mrs Wilson personally for such a wonderful dinner and entertainment the evening before.

Elizabeth had not seen Lord Thorne at all today, Sewell having informed Mrs Wilson at breakfast this morning that the earl had received several letters of correspondence that necessitated he spend most of the day in the library. Nor did he wish to be disturbed.


Weary from all the activity and visitors, Elizabeth had minutes ago excused herself from Mrs Wilson’s presence with the intention of taking Hector for his afternoon walk. Her employer’s request that she linger for a few minutes more so that she might ‘talk to her privately’ did not bode well…

‘Do sit down again for a few moments, my dear,’ Mrs Wilson chided gently as Elizabeth stood warily beside the doorway through which Letitia had just quietly left.

She sat down on the edge of a chair; Mrs Wilson was such a forceful woman it was impossible to ignore even her lightest request! ‘Have I done something to displease you?’ After the events of yesterday evening, Elizabeth suspected the worst. ‘I assure you, I did nothing last evening to encourage the attentions of Sir Rufus or Viscount Rutledge.’ Her cheeks coloured self-consciously as she omitted the name of the one man whose attentions were most likely to have caused Mrs Wilson’s displeasure.

‘It has been my experience that a beautiful young woman does not have to do anything to encourage a gentleman’s attentions,’ Mrs Wilson stated drily.

‘Perhaps not.’ A frown puckered Elizabeth’s creamy brow. ‘Nevertheless, I assure you that I did not seek out the company of either of those gentlemen.’

‘My dear girl…’ Mrs Wilson gave a perplexed shake of her head ‘…you seem to be under the impression that I wish to chastise you for something you either did or said during the course of yesterday evening.’

‘You do not…?’ Elizabeth eyed the older woman uncertainly.

‘Certainly not. Indeed, it has ever been the way of it that gentlemen will make fools of themselves over a pretty gel.’ Her employer gave a contemptuous snort.

Then Elizabeth was completely at a loss as to why the other woman might wish to talk to her privately.

Mrs Wilson’s gaze was piercing. ‘You have been with me for several weeks now, and—tell me, are you happy in your employment with me?’

‘Very much so.’ Some of the tension left Elizabeth’s shoulders—who could not be happy working in the household of such a kind lady as Mrs Gertrude Wilson, with the added boon of having darling Hector to care for?

‘But it is not what you were born to, is it?’

Elizabeth realised that she had allowed herself to relax too soon as that shrewd gaze seemed to see right into the guilty heart of her. She turned her own eyes away to moisten dry lips, not quite sure how she should answer.

‘Come now, Elizabeth,’ Mrs Wilson encouraged. ‘It is obvious to me that your voice and manners are those of a lady.’

The fact that the older woman had used her full name was in no way reassuring either! ‘A lady fallen upon hard times, perhaps,’ she explained evasively.

‘Perhaps.’ Mrs Wilson nodded slowly. ‘I have become fond of you these past weeks, Elizabeth, and I would not like to think that… Are you in some sort of trouble? With your family, or possibly…’ she shuddered ‘…the law?’

‘Did Lord Thorne instigate these doubts in your mind about me, Mrs Wilson?’ Elizabeth’s impatience with that gentleman was barely contained.

‘Osbourne?’ The puzzlement on Mrs Wilson’s face was enough to show that her nephew had not yet voiced his own suspicions to her.

‘I assure you I am not in any sort of trouble, Mrs Wilson,’ Elizabeth said honestly.

Oh, she had no doubts that when she and Diana met again, her sister would be most displeased with her, but Diana was never cross with either of her two headstrong sisters for very long, and no doubt in this case her relief at having Elizabeth returned to her would outweigh any serious upset. She could not care less what her new guardian, the scandalous Lord Faulkner, Earl of Westbourne, thought about her escapade, even if he ever came to learn of it, which was most unlikely as Diana would never betray her sisters like that.

‘I am pleased to hear it,’ Mrs Wilson said briskly. ‘But you do not—there is nothing which you would like to discuss with me?’

Having grown up without a mother’s guidance these past ten years Elizabeth felt the rise of an emotional lump in her throat at Mrs Wilson’s obvious kindness. To the extent that she almost—almost—felt tempted to confide her present dilemma to the older woman. Indeed, only the knowledge that Mrs Wilson could not possibly continue to employ her, once she was made aware of Elizabeth’s true identity and the offer of marriage from the Earl of Westbourne—a man Mrs Wilson was personally acquainted with and who was clearly a close friend of her nephew—prevented her from doing so.

‘I assure you, there is truly nothing to discuss.’ Elizabeth’s situation, whilst it might possibly be a cause for awkwardness and embarrassment if her identity became known, in no way affected her employment here. ‘Having no male relative on whom I can rely, I am in need of employment in order to support myself,’ she added for clarification; Lord Gabriel Faulkner might be her father’s third cousin or some such, but his relationship to Elizabeth was tenuous to say the least, notwithstanding his cold and clinical offer of marriage to her or one of her sisters!

‘Very well.’ Mrs Wilson accepted the end of the subject. ‘There is just one other matter which I feel I must discuss with you…’

Elizabeth stiffened warily. ‘Yes?’

Mrs Wilson smiled benignly. ‘Sir Rufus approached me before he left yesterday evening and requested my permission to take you driving in his carriage. My dear, I appreciate he is not the most exciting of men.’ Her employer chuckled at Elizabeth’s dismayed expression. ‘Indeed, it is the company of men like him that make me appreciate how lucky I was to spend almost twenty years of marriage with my darling Bastian!’ She sighed in fond remembrance. ‘However, boring as Sir Rufus Tennant undoubtedly is, I am duty-bound to remind you that he is nevertheless a titled and respectable gentleman.’

And beggars could not be choosers, Elizabeth acknowledged heavily. Except, even as Lady Elizabeth Copeland, she was nowhere near beggared enough to accept the attentions of a man as old and uninteresting as Rufus Tennant.

And it had absolutely nothing to do with her feelings for the young, virile and wickedly handsome Nathaniel Thorne!

Except, of course, it did…

Irritating as she found that gentleman, she could not deny that her heart beat faster whenever he was near, or that his kisses affected her in a way that was distinctly unladylike. Just thinking of those embraces now was enough to cause her breasts to swell and their rosy tips to tighten!

She shifted uncomfortably. ‘I informed Sir Rufus yesterday evening that I had no wish to go driving with him in his carriage.’

‘Boring but insistent.’ Mrs Wilson frowned her impatience with the man. ‘Do not worry, my dear, I will deal with Sir Rufus,’ she declared. ‘And if there ever comes a time when you do wish to speak with me about anything, then know that I have a sympathetic ear.’ She smiled encouragingly.

An encouragement that was almost Elizabeth’s undoing as she felt the sting of tears in her eyes. Diana was the most wonderful of sisters, a stalwart to both Elizabeth and Caroline since their mother’s defection, much more so than their Aunt Humphries, who had lived with them for many years; Mrs Wilson’s offer of sympathy made Elizabeth realise how much she had missed having an older woman to share her youthful uncertainties with.

She stood up. ‘You are very kind, Mrs Wilson,’ she said, her voice husky with emotion.

‘A secret probably better not confided to Osbourne—otherwise I shall never succeed in marrying him off!’ The older woman laughed affectionately.

‘I am afraid it is far too late to keep that particular secret, Aunt; I have long been acquainted with your kindness,’ Nathaniel drawled as he straightened from the doorway where he had been standing for the past several minutes as an unwilling eavesdropper on the ladies’ conversation.

A fact that obviously displeased Elizabeth Thompson as she rounded on him accusingly. ‘A lady must surely be allowed some secrets, my lord.’

Nathaniel strolled further into the room, aware that she was not now referring to his aunt’s kindness. Just as he was aware of how lovely Elizabeth looked today in a gown of buttercup yellow, her dark curls artlessly arranged about the delicate beauty of her face and emphasising the deep blue of her eyes. Eyes that had become deep and stormy as she glared her ire at him. ‘As long as that lady realises it is those very secrets that deepen and hold a man’s interest…’ He watched through narrowed lids as delicate—and guilty?—colour warmed her cheeks.

‘You have finished your correspondence for the day, Osbourne?’ his aunt asked.

He shook his head. ‘I am merely tired of being confined indoors, Aunt, to the extent that I have come to enquire if I might not accompany Miss Thompson and Hector on their afternoon walk?’

Elizabeth had not been at all pleased by Lord Thorne’s interruption of and his eavesdropping on her conversation with Mrs Wilson; she was even less so now at the thought of being alone with him again.


They had parted badly the evening before—when did they not?—and Elizabeth certainly had no intention of continuing that risqué conversation. ‘Are you sure you are well enough after the…exertions of yesterday evening, my lord?’

‘And what ‘exertions’ might those be, Miss Thompson?’ he asked pointedly.

Reminding Elizabeth far too strongly of being held in this man’s arms against the warmth and hardness of his body as they danced together… ‘Why, the dancing and conversation, my lord.’ She sincerely hoped that Mrs Wilson did not guess the reason for the blush that coloured her cheeks.

Nathaniel’s mouth quirked. ‘I may have been indisposed these past few days, but I assure you I am not yet so decrepit that a little dancing and company render me prostrate the following day.’

The warmth deepened in her cheeks at her intimate knowledge of just how decrepit this man was not! ‘I am sure I did not mean—’

‘Stop teasing Elizabeth, Osbourne.’ Mrs Wilson came to her rescue.

His brows were raised as he turned to look enquiringly at his aunt. ‘I thought you preferred she be called Betsy?’

‘It no longer seems…fitting,’ Mrs Wilson explained. ‘And I am sure that a walk in the fresh air will be good for the both of you,’ she added. ‘I believe that a short lie down upon my bed will serve me better!’ She was smiling as she stood up to leave.

Elizabeth’s eyes widened warningly on the earl as she saw the heated speculation in his gaze as he glanced across at her after his aunt’s announcement. As if he were envisaging the benefits of the two of them lying down on a bed together…

It was an image that both alarmed and excited her. It would no doubt be very exciting to lie on a bed beside the wickedly handsome Nathaniel Thorne. Just as her inexperience in such matters made her unsure and positively alarmed at what might follow!

Diana, as their Aunt Humphries had previously done with her, had dutifully talked to her two younger sisters concerning what to expect in the marriage bed when that time came. But Elizabeth had only needed to be held in Nathaniel Thorne’s arms, to be kissed by him, caressed by him, to know that there could be much more between a man and a woman than simply lying upon one’s back and allowing her husband to take his pleasure.

What of that tingling in her breasts when he held or kissed her? The hardening of those rosy tips when he touched her there? That hot dampness that bloomed expectantly between her thighs whenever he was near? There simply had to be more between a man and a woman than Diana had described!

A curiosity to know what that ‘more’ was had been well and truly awakened in Elizabeth by the obviously experienced Earl of Osbourne…



‘You really meant what you said yesterday evening about not wishing to go for a drive in Tennant’s carriage with him…’

Elizabeth glanced at the earl beneath her straw bonnet as the two of them once again walked along the cliff path—Hector firmly secured to his lead!—in the sunny light of day this time, the views of the Devonshire coastline magnificently displayed before them. Scenery that was wasted on Elizabeth at the moment as she could think only of Lord Thorne’s presence beside her and those earlier, disturbing thoughts of intimacy…

The earl’s comment revealed that he had overheard much more of her conversation with Mrs Wilson than Elizabeth had previously realised. ‘I rarely say what I do not mean, my lord,’ she said as she paused to allow Hector to investigate a particularly aromatic display of wildflowers.

‘Then you are unusual among your sex, Elizabeth,’ he said drily, very elegant in a dark blue superfine with a silver-brocade waistcoat and pale grey pantaloons, black Hessians gleaming brightly, his hat sitting rakishly atop his blond locks.

‘Perhaps that is only so amongst the members of my sex that you have so far…encountered, my lord,’ she came back tartly as they continued upon their way.

Putting him firmly and decisively in his place, Nathaniel acknowledged appreciatively. Just as he appreciated that Elizabeth’s observation was probably a correct one. He tended to stay well away from young and marriageable ladies of the ton—being ever wary of the parson’s mousetrap!—and also the more beautiful of the married ladies, who were often interested in playing society’s games in the bedchamber whilst their husbands conducted their own affairs. It was a game Nathaniel had never felt inclined to play, having an aversion to entanglements with married ladies, whatever their social standing. Which left him to dally with only the young and widowed ladies of society, or the occasional actress who caught his eye.

Despite Tennant’s outrageous remarks to Elizabeth yesterday evening, Nathaniel did not take advantage of young ladies employed by himself, his friends, or his aunt!

Which begged the question, what was he now doing once again alone in Elizabeth’s company, torturing himself with what he could not have?

Nathaniel had decided after last night that perhaps he should stay away from her if his smallest attention to her was to be the subject of gossip by people such as Tennant. Indeed, he had busied himself answering correspondence in the library all day in an effort to do just that. Only to find, after meeting Letitia in the hallway earlier, that he was drawn to the room where she had left his aunt and Elizabeth talking quietly together.

He had stood in the doorway and watched her unobserved for several minutes. Admiring the beauty of her profile. Appreciating the elegance of her bearing. Coveting the swell of her breasts visible above the low neckline of her yellow gown.

Not what he should be thinking of whilst out walking alone with her on a cliff-top with only the good-natured Hector to act as chaperon! ‘I expected I might receive a correspondence from my disreputable friend Westbourne this morning,’ Nathaniel said the first thing that came into his head—a head he realised was once again filled with thoughts of taking Elizabeth in his arms and kissing her senseless!

She stiffened, no doubt in disapproval. ‘You did not?’

‘No.’ He grinned at her obvious displeasure. ‘No doubt he is being kept busy about his own affairs.’

‘Oh?’

He nodded. ‘You will no doubt be surprised to learn that almost seven months ago he was given guardianship of three young ladies.’

Elizabeth was obviously not in the least surprised to hear that—how could she possibly be when she was one of them! ‘One can only feel sorry for those unfortunate young ladies,’ she said cuttingly.

The earl chuckled huskily. ‘Knowing Westbourne, I have no doubt they will all three very shortly fall in love with him.’

‘Indeed?’ Elizabeth eyed him frostily, knowing that this one certainly would not! And she believed that her two sisters had more sense than to do so, either.

‘Most women do, you know,’ Nathaniel admitted ruefully.

‘Then they must be particularly stupid women,’ Elizabeth bit out tartly, uncomfortable discussing her new guardian like this. Unless… ‘And why would you think that I might be in the least interested about anything concerning Lord Faulkner?’

The earl shrugged. ‘I was merely making conversation.’

‘About a man whom you already know I disapprove of?’

He grimaced. ‘Perhaps in the hopes that you would realise there are men of much worse reputation than I!’

Elizabeth eyed him speculatively. ‘I had not realised there were degrees of being disreputable.’

‘Oh, certainly there are.’ He grinned down at her. ‘I, for example, am considered only moderately so.’

‘Whereas Lord Faulkner is considered completely beyond the pale.’ Elizabeth nodded sagely. ‘I see.’

The earl frowned his irritation. ‘Now see here, Elizabeth—’ He broke off as she smiled up at him teasingly. ‘You are funning me,’ he realised slowly.

Indeed she was. And from his reaction, it was not something that occurred very often, particularly from a woman…

As the daughter of an earl, Elizabeth knew that the title of the Earl of Osbourne wielded much power and influence, in society as well as in the House. As such it would only be his very closest friends and family, such as Lord Gabriel Faulkner and Mrs Wilson, who would dare to talk to him in this irreverent way. Which was perhaps part of the reason for his seeking out Elizabeth’s less-than-respectful company in the way that he did?

Well, she certainly had no intention of behaving like a simpering ninny in order to dispel that interest, batting her eyelashes at him and giggling at his slightest remark, as the Misses Miller and Rutledge had done the previous evening! Even if she had a genuine wish to dispel any interest he might have in her—which, the more time she spent in his company, she was not at all sure she did have…

This man might often irritate and annoy her, but he also excited her, made her feel truly desirable for the first time in her young life. After years of living almost the life of a nun, hidden away in the country under the vigilant and watchful eye of her father, it was heady flattery indeed to know that a man as handsome and sought after as Nathaniel Thorne found her company pleasing. That he found her pleasing.


There was also the added boon of her teasing having succeeded in diverting the conversation from the potentially dangerous subject of the Earl of Westbourne. ‘Only mildly funning you, my lord,’ she allowed drily. ‘And what, in this rising scale of being disreputable, would you consider Sir Rufus Tennant’s level to be?’ she prompted mischievously.

‘He does not register at all,’ Nathaniel dismissed scornfully.

‘No?’

‘Tennant’s younger brother was the disreputable one in that family,’ he revealed.

Her eyes widened. ‘Was?’

Nathaniel frowned his annoyance, both with this return of the conversation to the elder Tennant and with the fact that he had allowed himself to be so irritated by it he had resorted to repeating gossip. ‘Giles Tennant succeeded in killing himself several years ago.’

‘But how sad for Sir Rufus!’ Elizabeth gasped, obviously deeply moved by this revelation.

He had obviously succeeded in arousing her sympathy for the older man, Nathaniel realised impatiently. ‘Do not feel too sorry for him, Elizabeth; Giles had shot and killed his married lover before he took his own life,’ he said harshly.

Elizabeth came to an abrupt halt, swaying where she stood, the colour draining from her cheeks, her chest becoming so tight that she could barely breathe. Surely—surely it was not possible…? Could it be the case that Sir Rufus Tennant’s brother had been the lover of her own mother?

But the coincidence of events was undeniable; the young men of the ton were known for being rakish and outrageous, but how many of them could there possibly be who had actually shot and killed their married lover before then killing themselves?

‘Elizabeth?’

‘I—how shocking.’ Her throat felt so parched that she could barely speak, her head abuzz with the possibilities. ‘How long ago did this happen?’

‘What difference does it make when it occurred?’ he asked curiously.

‘I—well, I would know then whether or not I ought to offer Sir Rufus my condolences when next I see him,’ Elizabeth invented breathlessly.

‘You should not,’ the earl announced definitely with a dark scowl.

‘But—’

‘Elizabeth, it happened years ago. Damn it, I only revealed the scandal to you at all in order to demonstrate that there is likely an emotional instability in that family,’ he explained.

And now that he had, Elizabeth needed to know more. To know everything that there was to know about the murder of Giles Tennant’s lover followed by his own suicide. She felt a desperate need to know whether Sir Rufus was the older brother of the man for whom her mother had deserted both her husband and three young daughters ten years ago…