Page 8 of The Earl's Heiress
Through the veil of her lashes, she had glimpsed him. His eyes closed in concentration, his brow furrowed, a sheen of perspiration upon his temple. Bella had never been kissed, but although this was not quite a kiss, it was perilously close. Somehow, she had tried to speak, and her tongue had brushed against his.
Oh! The shocking jolt of it had set her cheeks aflame and stirred a peculiar warmth deep inside. Her tongue had barelygrazed his before he realized she was stirring, yet the memory of that heat lingered. Mortified, she had squeezed her eyes shut, her skin tingling as though aflame. She had never imagined that when mouths touched, it could feel so strange… and yet so terribly pleasant.
Or perhaps I struck my head too hard, she told herself.
Turning onto her back, Bella raised a hand to her lips, marveling at the peculiar flutter still there.Outrageous. When she had dared open her eyes briefly, she had found herself studying his face. Handsome, yes, but it was his green eyes that had held her fast—stormy eyes, as though danger and scandal walked beside him. Even when Lord Jarvis muttered accusations of dishonor, the earl had remained composed, imperturbable, as though nothing could rattle him.
She liked that about him—his quiet self-possession, the air of confidence that clung to him. Yet beneath it, when he spoke, there had been something else. An undercurrent she had not recognized at the time but now thought might have been disdain. Bella frowned. Perhaps because they were so willing to call the earl a scoundrel, he felt only contempt.
The earl himself had insisted he had only been saving her. Saving her… with his mouth upon hers? Could such a thing be true? Or had he indeed been the scoundrel Lord Jarvis and the other witnesses accused him of being?
Bella did not believe it. The earl had been kind, not opportunistic. Compassionate, even—he had gone so far as to send his personal physician to her aid.
“Thank you,” she whispered silently, wishing she might have told him so herself.
Knock, knock, knock.
Bella lifted her head as the door opened and her mother entered without waiting for a reply. Crossing the room, sheseated herself at the edge of the bed, her expression etched with concern.
“How are you feeling, Bella?”
“I am well, Mama. Dr. Percival gave a favorable report. There are no broken bones—only bruises. I shall feel some pain for a few days, nothing more.”
Yet the worry did not leave her mother’s eyes.
Bella clasped her hand, offering a reassuring smile. Guilt pricked at her heart for having frightened them so. “I am sorry to have caused you such alarm. I promise, I suffer no ill effects.”
Her mother sighed, the tension in her features easing only slightly as a small smile touched her lips. “I am glad to see you on the mend. Your father has gone to call upon Lord Stanford.”
Bella’s breath caught. “Good heavens!Why?”
Her mother leveled her with a look of gentle censure.
Bella’s heart squeezed. “Papa means to force his hand. I do not believe it is necessary! Mama, why did you not dissuade him?”
One brow arched in quiet rebuke. “My dear, you know the expectations of your place in society. There must be propriety at all times.”
Her chest constricted even more. Bella could scarcely believe this was happening. How could they repay the earl’s kindness in such a manner?
“Mama, surely Papa explained the circumstances. Lord Stanford sought only to aid me. Nothing untoward transpired. Must we become fodder for gossip, vilified for…nothing? There was no indiscretion.”
Her mother’s eyes gleamed with quiet calculation. “You know as well as I that it is all about appearances. It matters not what truly transpired. Still, there is no use in fretting now. Every cloud has its silver lining. He is an earl, after all.”
A heavy weight of doubt pressed hard against Bella’s chest. “No one ought to be forced into marriage. The earl would surely resent—”
Her mother cut her off with a dismissive wave. “He is precisely the sort of aristocrat we had hoped you might wed. There is nothing wrong with valuing his position and connections. Far better an earl than some untitled gentleman—that would invite far greater scandal.”
Bella could not see the difference. A scandal was… a scandal.
“What if Lord Stanford is already spoken for? Have you considered that?” she pressed, the knot of dread tightening low in her belly. “It would be dreadfully unfair to hold such expectations without knowing the truth of his circumstances.”
Her mother’s lips thinned. “Engagements can be broken, my dear. Difficult, yes, but by no means impossible.”
Bella’s heart gave a violent jolt. “And if he loves her?”
Mama released a weary sigh. “Love is hardly of consequence. Your dowry will render you an appealing proposition.”
Bitterness surged through Bella. “If he accepts because of my wealth… Mama, I do not wish for such a marriage.”
