The Countess Intrigue

S
tepping
through the open doors onto the stone terrace in search of a quieter moment, Elizabeth was surprised to find that it was empty. With how crowded and warm the ballroom was, she would have expected there to be others seeking the fresher air outside. She took a deep breath, relieved to sense that after the rain that afternoon, the air really was fresh. After all the factories being built recently, London air couldn’t always be relied upon to smell clean.

She took a couple more deep, fortifying breaths before tensing as she sensed someone approaching silently. She held very still, hoping they would not intrude on her moment of solitude.

“You ought not to be out here on your own, my lady. There are any number of men of questionable character in attendance this evening.”

I really should have ignored the urge to take the air on the terrace after that last dance,
Lady Elizabeth Castleton thought as a shiver of nerves and awareness snaked its way down her spine at his words. Both the content of the message and the deep, male voice pitched to such an intimate tone, as though he told her a secret, caused the thrill down her back. Her eyes widened as she turned to identify the speaker. A chill went over her when she realized that it had been Lord Sinclair, the Earl of Heath, who spoke.

Even though it was only the Little Season, the ballroom was crowded beyond its capacity. Nevertheless, they were still the only ones on the terrace and her mother, the Countess Castleton, probably didn’t know where she was. Elizabeth chafed her cold hands up her bare arms cursing her gown’s lack of substance to warm her as she once again fought a shiver.
Do not antagonize the man,
she admonished herself sternly,
remember, rumour has it he murdered his wife.

Making every effort to appear nonchalant as she suppressed the urge to run away from the nobleman, Elizabeth plastered a polite smile to her face. “Thank you for your concern, my lord, I merely needed a breath of fresh air. But you are quite correct. I ought to be heading in. My mother will no doubt be wondering about me by now.”

The evening had already been harrowing with the abduction of her dearest friend from that very ballroom mere moments before, but it already felt like eons. After she had left it in the Duke of Wrentham’s hands there had been nothing Elizabeth could do to help. She had no desire to stand about wringing her hands so she was making every effort to remain calm, keeping up appearances in order to prevent Rose’s absence from becoming common knowledge in an effort to preserve her reputation. The last thing Elizabeth needed at the moment was to be seen conversing with the controversial earl. But despite every instinct shrieking for her to leave the man’s presence on the instant, she forced herself to meet his eye as she bade him good night.

His handsome face always made her blink. Well defined, with a sharp jaw and angular cheekbones. His skin looked smooth, as though he had just left the ministrations of his valet. His wide set eyes were a unique color, somewhere between blue and green, and leant an air of watchful intelligence to his beauty. She wondered if he found it amusing to be constantly faced with wide-eyed women or if he had become immune to it.
Perhaps he takes it as his due
, Elizabeth thought absently, before she refocused her attention. She ought to be keeping her wits about her. Exhaustion from the evening’s turmoil was dulling her senses.

Keeping her smile bright with effort, Elizabeth dipped into a deep curtsy. Despite the rumours whispered about the man, he was still an earl and conventions must be met. “Thank you, my lord,” she repeated, not caring if she sounded like a simpleton. She forced her eyes away from the harsh slash of his cheekbones, reprimanding her fingers for wishing to touch his too long chestnut coloured hair.
It doesn’t matter one jot how soft it looks
, she reminded herself,
that’s what cats are for
. This last thought made her smile with real amusement. When she thought she saw her laughter mirrored in the earl’s eyes, as though he had read her thoughts and found her amusing, she knew she was on the verge of losing her mind. With one last backward glance as she wrenched herself from his presence, Elizabeth strode purposefully back toward the ballroom with her head held high.

How dare the evil earl find his amusement at my expense?
she fumed as she came to a halt on the fringes of the dance floor. There was no possible way he could have had as harrowing an evening as she had. She refused outright to consider the possibility that they had a compatible sense of humour. She was perfectly within her rights to seem a little simple tonight. After a good sleep she would be right as rain, as her dear friend Rose was wont to say. She pulled her thoughts away from her friend. It would be absolutely impossible to hold on to her composure if she allowed her mind to dwell on anything of import.

The dance floor cleared and the orchestra struck up the next waltz just as she sensed someone very near her right shoulder.

“Might I have the pleasure of your hand for this dance, my lady?”

She just barely managed not to gasp as she heard the Earl of Heath’s deep voice rumbling next to her once more, but she could not prevent the shiver that was fast becoming almost familiar. As he was barely a handbreadth away, she just knew he would have noticed it.
Now is not the time, and he is certainly not the man I want to be feeling such an unexpected tug of attraction to,
she reminded herself before trying to convince herself that her strange feelings were fear rather than interest. But then she also refused to be intimidated. Elizabeth reminded herself that they were in a crowded ballroom, no matter what his reputation said of him; she knew she would be perfectly safe in the crowded room.

Of course, that is what Rose probably thought, and look where that got her.
Elizabeth’s nerves slipped one notch closer to hysteria. Pushing the unwelcome thoughts and feelings as far to the recesses of her mind as she could manage, Elizabeth forced another polite smile to her lips.

Dipping into one more curtsy she gave the only possible answer, “It will be my pleasure, my lord.”

* * *

J
ustice Sinclair
, the sixth Earl of Heath, called himself all manner of fool as he took the pale beauty into his arms. He hadn’t the first clue what had possessed him to speak to her out on the balcony, let alone follow her back to the ballroom and ask her to dance. She certainly was not the usual sort of woman he would pursue. In fact, she was the complete opposite of the plain, mature, older lady he was looking for. Of course, dancing with her did not mean he was making a declaration, but considering how many eyes were following them as they made their way around the dance floor, one would think it very well did.

He was well aware of the rumours that followed him. It was only the size of his purse and the age of his title that opened doors for him. It would seem that extremely rich noblemen could murder their wives with impunity in the rarified world of the
ton.
He kept the sardonic curl from his lip as he gazed down at the averted face of his dance partner. He marvelled at her remarkable self-possession. If he hadn’t sensed her shiver, he would have sworn she was unaffected by his presence. He tried not to allow his ego to get completely out of control, but he was well aware that women found him fascinating. It was ridiculous.
If they truly believe I had killed my wife, how could they even look at me, let alone gaze at me with such longing?

Not that the woman currently in my arms is doing anything close to fawning over me,
he thought with appreciation. With a silent sigh, he realized she must fall into the category of female who found him repulsive. That was fine by him. He would finish the dance and go on about the business of finding the proper, mature lady he required to be his next countess. So he would allow himself the next couple of minutes to enjoy her beauty before rendering her to the dustbin of his mind.

She was the perfect English rose with her blonde hair verging toward silver rather than gold and the pink of her cheeks and lips reflected in the rich tone of her gown. He had never understood female fashions but it would seem that this year’s styles perfectly suited Lady Elizabeth. The young woman was stunning. It was a wonder she was still single into her second Season.

They kept the time, moving in perfect coordination, despite how nervous he could sense she was. It irritated him that he seemed so attuned to this young woman. Before this evening he had barely exchanged even a greeting with her, but having her in his arms brought a sense of peaceful pleasure. He could feel the speculative gazes of those watching from the sidelines of the dance floor. Justice could imagine he and his dance partner presented a handsome display. He tried not to grimace at the thought.

“Have you been enjoying the current session of Parliament, my lord?”

She wasn’t looking at him, but kept her gaze fixed over his shoulder, so Justice was surprised to hear her quiet question. He had almost resolved himself to total silence for the duration of their dance. He revised his opinion of Lady Elizabeth Castleton before he answered her question. Even though her voice had been low and he could sense her nerves, clearly the young woman was neither insipid nor lacked backbone.

His glance took in the color that had returned to her face from the rigors of the dance. Her cheeks were flushed and her red lips were curved almost into a smile. He was relieved to see that she was looking much restored from when he had first approached her on the terrace.
She really is a lovely young woman
, he thought before finally answering her question.

“I am, actually, quite enjoying it. Thank you for asking, my lady. And are you enjoying your time while here in Town?”

“It has its moments,” came her brief reply.

The earl smiled briefly. “Which moments might those be?” he asked, gratified to get a reaction out of her as her eyes flew to his before nervously bouncing away.

He saw her lick her lips before she managed to frame a response. “I really ought not to be talking to you, my lord. I am not likely to be making any sense.”

Now he actually felt like laughing. It had been two years since he had experienced the sensation and the novelty of it nearly took his breath away.

“Am I so very scary?” Despite his amusement, he was incredulous that she would express her fears. Even the boldest of young women had quailed at saying anything straight to his face. It would be a relief, he thought, to be able to confront the gossips head on.

Once again he saw her gaze bounce nervously to his and flit away again as her tongue peeped out to moisten her dry lips. He could feel his attraction growing for her and hoped rather franticly that the dance would soon be over.

“Scary, my lord?” she asked with an insincere tinkle of laughter. “I would never say that.”

“Of course you would not,” he replied, not bothering to hide the disgust he could hear in his voice, overriding his attraction to her as well as his ever present urge to act the gentleman. “No one ever says anything to my face.”

* * *

E
lizabeth knew
she was making a worse muddle of the evening than it already had been. She really should have just declined the man’s invitation to dance. She had been trying to prevent a scene, but it would seem she was about to create exactly what she was hoping to avoid. Beginning to feel annoyed at the man’s assumptions, she thought back to what she had said to make him react the way that he did.

“My feelings really have nothing to do with you, my lord. I am not having the best night and am actually really rather tired. I ought to have gone home instead of returning to the ballroom. That is what I meant when I said that I ought not to talk to you. I am too tired to string sensible thoughts together.”

The earl’s face was devoid of expression so Elizabeth had no idea what he was thinking. That was a remarkable ability, one she wished she possessed. She was quite certain her every emotion displayed itself upon her face. But at the moment she wasn’t even sure what she was feeling, so it was doubtful she would be able to interpret her own expressions even if she could see her face.