Page 24 of Loving an Earl
“Not always,” Aunt Vivian replied. “But in this case, I believe so.”
“Hollingsworth is taking me for a carriage ride in the park this afternoon. Will he still come for afternoon tea?” Why was she not excited to see him? Why was her heart so fickle? If Lilly had known how difficult navigating the social circles of London would be, she might have stayed at Langford Manor. But then,hehad been there. Life had been so simple when her papa lived and then when Henry lived. At nineteen and alone, how was she to know her heart’s desire?
“Perhaps, but not necessarily.” Aunt Vivian sipped her tea. “You are quiet and look tired, Emmeline. Is all well?”
Well, there went pretending the cucumber slices were for her. Emmeline ignored her mother’s question.
*
The social hourarrived in the blink of an eye, and Lilly, Emmeline, and Aunt Vivian found themselves in the same spots as yesterday, awaiting their callers. Lilly wore her new green day dress, which had arrived from the modiste that morning. It matched her mother’s pendant and brought out the color of her eyes. Emmeline wore a lovely pale blue, which made her eyes positively glow. Aunt Vivian wore navy blue with her usual turban. Truthfully, Lilly didn’t know what color her hair was or if she even had hair, as she’d never seen her without a turban.
Harrison entered and announced Blackstone and Langford. Lilly had trouble meeting Langford’s eyes. Was it because she’d kissed Nicholas? It was certainly none of his business that she had. When he bowed in greeting, he took her hand in his and brushed his lips across her fingers. His intense brown eyes were flecked with amber and they never left her. Her insides vibrated, and her breath caught in her throat. His look unsettled her, and she didn’t know what to make of it. Would he be pleasant like he was during yesterday’s call or rude as he was at the opera?
“How was the rest of your evening last night? I hope Hollingsworth was a gentleman and escorted you ladies home at a reasonable hour.” It was odd that nothing he said or in his looks gave her any inclination he was not happy with Hollingsworth wanting to court her. Yet, she knew he had rescinded his so-called permission.
Her face broke into a wide smile. “It was wonderful. The opera was sad, sensual, and utterly beautiful. You should have stayed.”
She looked directly into his eyes and tried to look like a woman in love, like Emmeline when she thought about Blackstone. And if she was showing false love for the marquess, that was her choice. “Hollingsworth was a perfect...gentlemanduring our time alone in the drawing room.” The pause between her words had the desired effect on Langford. He narrowed his eyes and studied her intently. She would love to know what he was thinking.
“Is it possible to have a word with you in private, Lady Langford?” he said with a clipped, do-not-refuse-me tone.
Standing, trying to hide her annoyance with him, Lilly said, “Please excuse us. Langford would like a word.” As if they had not heard his request. No. Not a request. More of an order.
He stood when she did and followed her out of the drawing room and up the stairs to the family’s private drawing room. Her hand quivered as she moved it along the banister. The heat from his eyes bore into her. No doubt the rakehell was staring at her backside, planning his seduction of her. She hadn’t forgotten his actions at the Westport ball.
After they entered, she left the door ajar. She still didn’t trust him. “Please sit.”
“I prefer to stand.” He moved to the front of a large window looking onto the street below.
Lilly sat because her knees threatened to buckle.
Langford pivoted, looking at her, studying her with softened eyes, and her heart twitched. She preferred him when angry or frustrated instead of appearing as though he really had feelings for her. She feared she would fall for him quickly if he showed kindness, compassion, and warmth toward her. Sometimes, she wanted to think he cared for her, and his abruptness toward her was only him acting out his frustration at having feelings for his uncle’s widow—his aunt, technically—which could be deemed scandalous.
“I would prefer it if you did not see Hollingsworth again.”
His words had her shaking her head. Not that she was surprised by them after Nicholas had told her he had rescinded his approval. But the way he spoke now, this was not a demand like he usually used with her. He wasn’t ordering her not to see Hollingsworth. How unlike him. He was an enigma—stern and bossy one moment and almost thoughtful the next. Did the man not know his own mind? She was suffering from emotional strain trying to keep up with him.
“I’m riding with him in the park this afternoon.”
“Please cancel. Please tell him you have a migraine.”
“I will do no such thing.” She didn’t like this softer side of him. She preferred his indifferent side. That way, she could be angry at him in peace and ignore the way her pulse raced when he spoke to her gently.
At her refusal, his eyes now turned a dark brown void of amber flecks as he glared at her, his thoughtfulness spent.
She closed her eyes briefly, then stood ready to do battle. Her spine was straight, her shoulders back, and her eyes pierced his. “I may not be twenty yet, but I am far from innocent and naïve. I was married for a year and mourned for one. When I lived with my papa, I was in charge of his household. I am much older and wiser than my years. Therefore, I am perfectly capable of making decisions for myself.” Her hand flew up as he opened his mouth. “Do not interrupt me. I appreciate your stated desire to look out for my well-being and reputation; nevertheless, it’s unnecessary.” She flashed him a teeth-clenched grin, watching the expression on his face change from annoyance to anger to amusement and back to anger.
His eyes seared her with their intensity as he walked toward her until he stood very close to her. A nerve twitched in the corner of one of his eyes, and his woodsy scent tickled her nose, sending her heart thumping wildly inside her chest. No doubt he heard it.
“Perhaps you are not naïve for someone living in the country, but London and thetonare forces to be reckoned with. No one is above scandal or reproach.” He placed a finger beneath her chin and tipped her head up, his eyes alight with something resembling humor. “Not even young, beautiful widows such as yourself.” He removed his finger. Her head stayed put. Her eyes sought his, her lips parted in an effort to breathe. Her heart paused mid-beat as he continued to speak. “My uncle asked me to look after you and find you a suitable husband, and, by God, I will honor his wishes.”
“But—”
He cocked a brow. “You had your turn. Now it’s mine. Despite his charm, good manners, and seemingly affable personality, Hollingsworth isn’t who you think he is. Even at his age, he fears his mother. When his father lived, he stayed away from them, living in single gentlemen’s quarters. Now that he is the marquess and under the same roof as his mother, she is trying to control him. She wants him to marry Lady Priscilla Amesbury, the daughter of her best friend, whom he dislikes with a passion. He will do anything not to make that happen. Even marry someone he just met... a total stranger... such as yourself.”
His large, warm hand cupped her cheek, his thumb sliding across her jaw, causing goosebumps to break out on her skin. “I predict he will ask you to marry him by week’s end.”
She gasped.
