Page 58 of A Courtesan Countess Worth the Scandal
Liam pursed his lips. “I suppose I cannot blame them for being away. I did not have time to send word of my plans, so they would not have known that I intended to arrive early.” He sighed quietly. “Well, this is my Manor, after all. I do not have to seek permission to come here, and nor do I need permission to bring guests.”
Nora noticed the uncertainty in his voice, and immediately felt sorry for him. Evidently, hedidfeel as though he needed to ask permission, though he was trying to convince himself otherwise. She pitied him all the more as she observed the way his entire demeanor had altered since entering this house. Here, he looked rather more like a worried boy than the man she had come to admire.
“Denninson, might you ask Mrs.Fincher,” Liam corrected, “to prepare a late luncheon for us all. In the meantime, I will show our guests to their bedchambers.”
Denninson nodded. “Of course, though I have a feeling I may have to put young Carlton to bed before he imbibes any more of your fine brandy.” He flashed an apologetic look at Lily, clearly forgetting that she was blind. “It would not do to have an inebriate in the company of a child.”
“Quite right!” Carlton hiccupped obliviously.
Reddening with mortification, Liam gestured for Nora and her family to follow him up the winding wooden staircase to the upper floor. She noticed he paused on the bottom step, his foot hovering just above it, like he did not want to touch his shoe to the varnished wood. His knuckles whitened on the banister but, with one short, sharp breath, he seemed to spur himself on, up the stairs.
At the top, he headed down the left-hand corridor, away from a peculiar sight on the right-hand side. Nora glanced back; not certain she had seen what she thought she had. But, sure enough, across the entrance to what she presumed to be another corridor, there hung a heavy black curtain with weights at the bottom to stop it from billowing in any winter drafts.
Did someone die here? Was that where his Father lost his life to heartbreak?
It was the only explanation she had, though it went some way toward explaining why Liam did not like to be here. He had mentioned that his mother and father used him as a length of rope in their game of tug-of-war, but they were still his parents. To lose one and be abandoned by the other must have been difficult for him, in his youth.
After depositing Lily in her own private bedchamber, which prompted many a squeal of excitement from the young girl, and ushering Nora’s mother into her bedchamber, Liam stopped at the last door on the right.
“Is this to be mine?” Nora said, battling with the impulse to brush the wayward strands of brown hair out of his eyes.
Liam nodded awkwardly. “I hope it is to your liking. If there is anything else you might need, you have only to ask.” He swallowed loudly. “There is also a… gift waiting for you. I had Denninson bring it and do hope it is to your taste.”
Most ladies might have been thrilled by the idea of an unexpected gift, but the notion that something awaited her in the bedchamber beyond filled her with a bleak sense of disappointment. It seemed oddly… seedy, and she did not care for it. Not from him.
Taking him abruptly by the hand, she led him into the bedchamber. It was a pleasant, spacious room with an elegant four-poster bed, draped with gauzy fabric, and a large window that cast the bedchamber in the cold light from outside. A writing desk was tucked up to the sill, and there were thick, soft rugs scattered across the hardwood floors, to lessen the icy sensation on bare feet.
Nora noticed none of it as she stalked over to the writing desk, where a cream-colored box, tied with a purple ribbon, rested ominously.
“What are you doing?” Liam gasped, desperately trying to shuffle backward, away from her private chambers and the grip of her hand.
Nora placed her other hand upon the box. “I’m sure you put a great deal of thought into this gift, and I’m not ungrateful to you for offering it to me.” Hot, involuntary tears jabbed at her eyes. “But I don’t want it. Please, take it away.”
He seemed to realize that she was in some distress, and immediately ceased in his eagerness to escape her bedchamber. She froze as his fingertips lifted to her face, and his thumb gently brushed away a tear that had already fallen.
“Why are you crying?” His voice emerged thick with emotion. “Did I do something to upset you? Did I cause this?”
Feeling utterly foolish, she tried to lower her head, but his fingertips traced down the side of her face until they reached the underside of her chin. With a tender push, he tilted her head back up, their eyes meeting. And the sorrowful, confused expression on his face was almost more than she could bear. After all these years, she had finally figured out her weakness, kindness.
“Nora…” he urged, “tell me what I have done wrong. I must know, so I do not do it again. Is it the bedchamber? Do you hate it? I can find another for you, that would be more suited?”
She shook her head, freeing more tears. “I… can’t take a gift from you, Liam,” she explained, through a racking sob that made her ribs hurt. “For me, gifts are never given without expectation.”
“I would never expect anything from you!” His mouth fell open in horror, evidently realizing what she meant.
She tried to gather herself, but the floodgates would not close. “I know. Deep down, I know that to be true, but… all gentlemen have ever done is try to flatter and manipulate me with presents. And each one comes with a price.” Her breath hitched. “I don’t want you to be like them because… I don’t think you are.”
“You may be assured of that,” he insisted, his hands moving up to cup her face. “I did not even think you would be displeased. No… I did not even think of how this would appear to you.”
“Even if this gift doesn’t come with a price, I won’t be able to look at it without thinking of past gifts, and the pain they have caused me.” Her palms pressed to his chest, feeling for that steady beat of his heart that might steady her in return. “Please, don’t scold yourself. You weren’t to know.”
His thumb caressed the apple of her cheek. “But I should have known. Indeed, I feel quite the fool for having acted so callously.” His own eyes twinkled with unspent tears. “I confess, I read your stories in the scandal sheets. I read what had happened to you, and then I do something so… ill judged. You must loathe me.”
I wish I did, for it would make distancing myself from you so much simpler.
“I couldn’t, even if I tried,” she confessed, instead. “All I ask is that you don’t try to give me a gift again.”
He shook his head. “Never.”
