Lord Runthorne's Dilemma: A Regency Romance (17 page)

“
Elizabeth, my love,” he murmured, breaking the kiss. His blood pounded and he felt light-headed. “I think we should stop, now.”

She
gazed at him, her eyes dark with passion and he was almost undone. But she was an innocent, did not know how she drove him mad with desire. He would not take that from her.

If they stayed a
moment longer in that kiss he did not think he would have the strength to draw back.

He
watched as her eyes cleared and comprehension returned. “Oh,” she said. Then a longer, understanding “Ohhh” escaped her. She took a step back, her arms falling to her sides, leaving him bereft.

“
Forgive me,” she said, her voice rasping. Then she turned and ran.

Runthorne
stood a moment, watching, wishing he could chase her, knowing he must not.

“
There is nothing to forgive,” he said.

***

Elizabeth ran. Her damp skirts twisted around her ankles, making her stumble, and she pulled at them, frustrated by the clinging cloth. Her breath became ragged, half sobbing, but still she ran, desperate to get as far from Lord Runthorne as possible.

The ground rose beneath her feet and she began to gasp.
The air was heavier now. Clouds boiled in heralding another storm. It was like trying to breathe water.

She was almost dizzy with the effort of running, but still she urged her sluggish feet on, stumbling one step after another.
Her vision began to grey around the edges and she flung out a hand.

She touched soft leaves, then cool stone.
She took another step and half fell between marble columns. Somehow she had found the folly, the ancient temple to Aphrodite, erected just over a year ago at Aunt Edina’s whim.

Elizabeth
brushed aside a tendril of ivy that should have been twining gracefully up to the vaulted roof but had, instead, chosen to tangle itself in her hair. A curving bench, perfect for two, nestled at the rear of the folly, half hidden in the gloom. She swayed towards it, her breathing easing, but her heart still pounding in her ears.

She fell, rather than sank onto the bench
and her limbs began to tremble.

She rested her head back against the stone wall behind her and pushed a damp tendril of hair away from her mouth.
The temple was cool, almost cold after the oppressive heat outside, and Elizabeth gloried in it. She closed her eyes.

Slowly, the pulse in her ears slowed and her breathing eased.
She sat still, allowing the scent of bruised ivy to sooth her. Her heart began to slow as she took one long breath after another. Then, at last, she began to think.

Lord
Runthorne had kissed her, true, but the fault was not all his. She had wanted that kiss more than she had wanted anything else in the world. She blushed as she remembered how she had thrown her arms around his neck, pulling him towards her as she had pressed close, feeling his broad chest, warm against her. She bit her lip and tightened her eyelids, preventing the tears from escaping.

What a fool she was
. How could she have behaved in such a manner? Worse, how could she have thrown herself at a man she knew had to marry another?

But it was worth it
, her conscience teased her. No, it could not be her conscience. It was her base, wanton nature that spoke so seductively.

Elizabeth
surged to her feet in denial and began to pace. It was
not
worth it. And yet, that one kiss had made her feel so beautiful, so cherished, how could she be alive and not want more?

Elizabeth
tore leaves from the ivy and began to shred them, until her fingers became green with sap. She could not deny it. She had enjoyed his kiss, had sought it. She groaned. What kind of woman was she?

Her pacing brought her to the front of the folly and she stood gazing out over the
sloping lawns. She rested her hand against the smooth stone, barely registering it. Then she turned back and gazed at the bas-relief of Aphrodite that graced the back wall of the temple.

What kind of a man attempts to seduce one lady when he is betrothed to another? What kind of a man would pre-empt his wedding vows with one, then swear to the other that he would be free?

Elizabeth shook her head.

“
No, it is not possible.” She started at the sound of her own voice, echoing back from the stone. She laughed a nervous laugh; it was almost as though Aphrodite’s image had spoken.

Yet Aunt Edina must be right, why would Lady Delphine lie?

No mother would so carelessly destroy her daughter
’s reputation
.

Elizabeth
pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes. “Oh, do be quiet,” she said. She was becoming heartily tired of her treacherous mind. “I just do not want to think about it now.”

Elizabeth
rubbed her forehead. “I think I must be going quite mad,” she said. Her head ached and she felt unutterably weary. She would not think about it now.

She sighed and straightened her shoulders.
There was, however, something she could do and should have done long ago.
Her
heart may be in disarray, but that was no reason why others should suffer.

Pushing aside the ivy,
Elizabeth stepped out of the folly and began to walk back towards the house.

It was time she had a serious talk to Charles and Mary.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“I am sure I do not know when it has been so warm,” Lady Delphine said. She took a large bite of pound cake before dabbing at a stray crumb on her lip.

Runthorne
grimaced. It was amazing that anybody could eat anything whilst it was so hot, let alone rich cake. He paced across the drawing room carpet to stand next to the open window, hoping for a light breeze. But only the sunshine flooded in, heating the room. In the distance, dark clouds gathered.

“
It will rain later,” he said.

“
Do you think so, Runthorne? I am sure we could do with a little respite from the heat.” Lady Delphine turned to Mrs Maybourne, sitting beside her on the low sofa. “Indeed, Edina, it is even more unpleasant than the summer we toured Italy. What do you think, Mr Lacey?” Mr Lacey was sitting, hidden as usual behind his newspaper, in the far corner of the room.

He
rustled his newspaper and grunted.

“
I do believe he never listens to a word I say,” Lady Delphine said in a loud whisper to Mrs Maybourne. She shot her husband an indulgent look. “I am sure he is quite deaf.” She raised her voice. “I said, Mr Lacey, that you are quite deaf.”

“
Just so, my dear,” Mr Lacey said, from behind his newspaper.

“
What shall I do with him,” Lady Delphine said to the room at large and Runthorne turned away disgusted with her playacting. He had seen too often with what little respect she treated her long-suffering husband to accept her affectionate attitude now.

Charles was leaning against the empty fireplace, his face a study in misery.
Runthorne walked towards him, but before he could reach his friend, Charles pushed away from the mantelpiece and trod across the carpet to where Miss Granger sat ostensibly immersed in a book.

Runthorne
plucked a nut from the bowl on the table by the window and watched in interest as Charles whispered urgently in the girl’s ear.

At first
she appeared to ignore his friend’s urgings but, slowly, Charles seemed to make progress until, at last, he teased a small smile from her.

Runthorne
turned away. The expression in her eyes was too intimate for his prying eyes. He silently wished his friend well and cracked the nutshell between his fingers.

The
drawing room door swung open and he looked over, hoping to see Elizabeth. Aurelia glided in, closely followed by Mr Compton.

“
Here we are, at last” she said. “I do hope we have not kept you waiting for your tea.” She giggled. “Oh, I see we have not.”

“
Would you care for some tea?” Mrs Maybourne reached for the tea pot and a cup.

“
That would be delightful, Mrs Maybourne, thank you. It is so hot outside and I should not have stayed out so long but Mr Compton found me walking in the grounds and I am afraid we quite forgot the time. He is so entertaining. Perry,” she said, turning to her companion, “do tell everyone that amusing story about your visit to London.”

Runthorne raised his brow at her familiarity and watched with interest as Mr Compton coloured.

“Miss Lacey is too kind,” he said.

“
It was so funny,” Aurelia continued, without pausing. “He saw some boys tormenting a dog.” She waved her hand. “Of course that was not the funny part. But would you credit it? He saved the dog,
most
bravely, although he will not say so. He ran those horrid boys off, with just his cane. I do believe he might have been murdered, but he had no thought for his own safety.”

“
Gosh, Miss Lacey, I hate to contradict a lady, but it truly was nothing.”

“
Good heavens, Mr Compton,” Runthorne said. “Aurelia makes you sound most courageous. Just like a knight of old, slaying a dragon.”

Aurelia lifted her pert little chin.
“Well, I am sure he was.” She turned back to the astonished company. “But, then the dog, instead of being grateful, made the most fearful mess of his carriage.” She gave a gale of laughter. “Oh, I should not laugh, but it sounded so
funny
.”

There was a moment
’s hush.

“
What happened to the dog?” Miss Granger’s soft voice broke the silence.

“
I kept him,” Mr Compton said, flushing more deeply. “Poor little thing did not know any better.” He shuffled his feet. “He’s a good dog.”

“
That is so
sweet
.” Aurelia patted Mr Compton’s arm.

“
Aurelia.” Lady Delphine’s voice was sharp. “Come here, please.”

Aurelia stuck out her lower lip
.

“
Aurelia, I said come here.”

“
Oh very well, I am coming,” she said.

Mr Compton glanced around, a little helplessly.

“
Your tea, Mr Compton.” Mrs Maybourne handed him the delicate cup.

Mr Compton murmured his thanks
, and sat.

The entertainment over,
Runthorne turned away and stood at the open window, hoping that he would see Elizabeth outside.

“
My lord, you appear extremely thoughtful.”

Runthorne
turned and inclined his head an exact half inch. “Aurelia,” he said. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” He glanced at Lady Delphine, watching them.

Aurelia laughed
her tinkling laugh. “Do I need a reason to speak to my betrothed?” She laid her hand, feather light, on his sleeve.

He
considered the pretty face tilted towards him. He wondered how far he could goad her. “Indeed? Yet you call Mr Compton by his given name. You appear to be on comfortable terms with him. I began to doubt that you remembered our betrothal.”

Aurelia raised her finely marked eyebrows.
“How can I forget that I am betrothed to one of the most eligible and handsome men in the country,” she breathed, moving closer. Her bosom brushed his arm and she smiled, showing her perfect, sharp little teeth.

He
stepped back, but continued to watch her closely. “Nevertheless you appear so enamoured of Mr Compton that I have to wonder how seriously you take our betrothal.”

Again
, Aurelia laughed, although the delicate gurgle sounded rather forced. “Oh, dear Runthorne, how can you doubt how much I care for you?” Her voice was low, seductive. It was a trick a lady of her age and breeding should never have known.

“
I know exactly how much you care for me.”

Aurelia cocked her head.
“Is that why you have been amusing yourself with Elizabeth Hampton so much since we arrived? Would you like me to show some sign of jealousy, Runthorne?” She laughed more naturally this time. “How sweet you are.”

“
I have told you before that my friendship with Miss Hampton is no concern of yours, Aurelia.”

“
Of course it is not, my lord,” Aurelia said. “We are not bourgeois. I do not expect you to hang on my sleeve, nor do you expect it of me.” She laughed and placed her hand on his. “Come let us be friends. You know we will deal well together once we are married. I have no objections if you wish to explore your relationship with Miss Hampton more deeply.”

He
barely believed his ears. Surely, Aurelia could not be suggesting what he thought she was proposing.

Her artificial laugh tinkled again.
He suppressed a shudder at the thought of being greeted by that noise over every breakfast for the rest of his life.

“
After all,” Aurelia continued, “the conventions that constrain unmarried girls cannot be expected to trouble such an experienced lady.”

He
chose not to rise to her bait. “Am I to assume that the latitude you so graciously offer me is also to apply to yourself?” He watched in interest as Aurelia coloured.

“
Really, my lord, you cannot expect me to answer that,” she said.

“
I see,” he said. He tightened his fingers on hers and she tried to pull them away. “I am sorry to inform you, Aurelia that I am going to be a very jealous husband. I will not countenance any friendships with other men, however innocent they might be.”

Aurelia pulled harder on her hand.
“Runthorne you are hurting me.”

“
Forgive me, my dear,” he said, kissing her finger tips lightly before releasing her.

She stepped away from him, hesitated a moment then, with a defiant toss of her head, glided towards Mr Compton and sank down next to him.

Runthorne smiled. Now he knew how he was going to persuade Aurelia to break the betrothal and, he rather thought, she would be happier for it.

***

Elizabeth bit her knuckle in frustration. Mary had not been in her bedroom, nor had she been in the gardens, the parlour or the library.

Charles was equally elusive.

She walked slowly down the hallway.
The one place she had not looked was the drawing room. She stopped, facing the door. Unfortunately, she suspected that if Mary and Charles were in the drawing room, so would other people. Most specifically, Lord Runthorne.

She did not think she was ready to face him just yet.

On the other hand, she reasoned, if there were other people present, he would have to be more circumspect in his behaviour.

Admit it, you want to see him.

Elizabeth
reached out a hand to open the door.

“
Mr Compton, you are so droll.” Miss Lacey’s distinctive laugh tinkled from behind the closed door and Elizabeth’s hand dropped to her side. She might be in two minds about whether she wanted to see Lord Runthorne, but she was very sure she did not want to see Miss Lacey.

Her decision made for her,
Elizabeth walked away. She might not be able to speak to Mary and Charles but there was one person she could talk to. In fact, she decided, it was probably beyond time that she spoke to him. And, at this time of day she knew exactly where to find him. Hiding from his guests in his study

Captain Maybourne
was not an unsociable man, but his years at sea had left him with a marked preference for his own company. It was, Elizabeth thought, an indication of the depths of his love for Aunt Edina that he had agreed to the house party at all.

Elizabeth
smiled as she recalled the expression of horror on his face when Aunt Edina had first broached the idea. But he had done his duty in making his guests welcome so nobody begrudged him his solitude now.

With
a destination in mind, Elizabeth walked quickly to Captain Maybourne’s study and rapped sharply on the door. There was no answer. Puzzled, Elizabeth knocked again. Still, there was no answer. She pressed her ear to the door and heard a faint, but distinctive, snore. She smiled and eased open the door to glance inside.

The study was a pleasant, masculine room, full of dark leather armchairs with heavy red drapes at the windows.
It smelled of rich leather and the tobacco Captain Maybourne favoured. It was a comforting smell, so different to the barren scent of her father’s study.

Captain Maybourne
sat behind his large desk. His chair was tilted back at an alarming angle and his hands were folded over his shirt front. A capacious kerchief covered his face. It fluttered like a bird as he snored. His coat lay, discarded, on the leather sofa by the window.

Elizabeth
hesitated, reluctant to disturb him, but unwilling to leave now she had come so far. She cleared her throat softly and Captain Maybourne grunted, the kerchief slipping sideways, as he shifted in his chair.

“
Captain Maybourne,” she said, pitching her voice so he would only hear if he was waking naturally.

The captain grunted again then opened one eye.
“Elizabeth?”

“
Yes, sir, I am sorry to wake you.”

“
Nonsense, my dear child,” he said. “I was not sleeping, I was thinking.”

Elizabeth
nodded. “Of course, I am sorry, sir.”

Captain Maybourne
levered himself out of his chair, which thumped back into position. He pulled on his coat.

“
Yes,” he repeated, “I was thinking.” His look dared her to contradict him. “Most specifically,” he continued when Elizabeth kept silent, “I was thinking about you, my dear, and this mess you have become embroiled in.”

“
Ah,” she said, taking the chair Captain Maybourne indicated for her. “I must admit, sir that was something I wished to speak to you about as well.”

“
Indeed? I understood from your aunt that you were less than willing to consider Captain Fitzalan’s suit.”

Elizabeth
inclined her head. “I remain of that frame of mind, sir. I cannot and will not marry him.”

The Captain sighed.
“My dear child, please do not be so inflexible” he said, “I believe you are making a terrible mistake.”