Page 10 of The Baroness of Sin
“Regardless of maturity, you have no reason to feel embarrassment, My Lady. Nothing you do could be more embarrassing than how I acted during our initial meeting. If anything, you are owed a faux pas or two.” James tried to put her at ease.
“Please, My Lord, let me save those until such a time that they will be the most useful, which, according to my sisters, will not be long at all,” she said, while she continued to laugh.
“If I am to keep them for you, then would you do me a great service in allowing us to start fresh? I want to request this with great humility.” James was smiling but gave a slight bow.
“I think that would only be proper,” Martha granted.
“Thank you,” James said with a comfortable sigh. “But now we are faced with another conundrum.”
“What's that, My Lord?” Marth asked with genuine curiosity.
“Now that the air has been cleared of misgivings and ill feelings, what ever will we talk about?” The smile on Lord Barristen’s face was the most playful that Martha could ever imagine on him, which while a small amount was still of note.
“Surely the two of us are more interesting than you are judging, My Lord.” Martha countered.
“We are, surely. But since it has become clear that you did not invite me as some sort of bizarre social punishment for my poor etiquette, I’m still at a loss as to what I owe the pleasure of your company.” The Earl raised his open palms towards her as a sign of concession.
“Was my explanation to you the other day not sufficient?” Martha questioned.
“I thought it was simplified specifically for my daughter's benefit,” James explained.
“To some extent,” Martha paused and thought on the matter a bit more. “I’m afraid there really isn’t much more to it, My Lord. I have not found myself bereft of company, as you well know. But, how do I put this tactfully, I find myself wanting engaging company.” As if unconsciously, she let her fingertips brush against his hand as she procured a sugar cube. She enjoyed the warm, slightly coarse sensation of the back of his hand so much, she didn’t realize she had forgotten to apologize until much later.
The Earl smiled at her, trying to play off the obvious accident, “Am I the sort of company you are looking for then? You are saying that you found me engaging?”
Martha realized that she had overplayed herself and blushed lightly. She turned her face away again and hoped she would not have to make a habit of it. “You seem to have the potential to be interesting, if you trust my judgment on the matter,” she said, her reply slightly harsh to try and compensate for how exposed she felt.
“Indeed, I find myself inclined to confirm that judgment,” he said with a light chuckle. Martha watched his eyes glance around her as he spoke. If she didn’t think better of the Earl, she would swear that he was eyeing her body. She was surprised when she realized that she hoped that he liked what he saw. His words snapped her back. “I must admit, I find you quite engaging as well. It has been a long time since I let myself laugh with such ease.”
The Lady of Carrington’s face only flushed more, and the two exchanged little snatches and smatterings of conversation as they nursed the tea and pecked at sandwiches. From the outside, it would appear they talked of very little, but, in reality, there were two conversations occurring. What was being said on the surface, and what they said between the polite words. They earnestly wanted to talk to each other with ease and comfort, feeling a bond had formed between them already, stronger perhaps than was appropriate. It could not be acknowledged, though, for they were both guarded because of the hurt they had suffered before.
“Tell me, My Lord, do you think love in all its forms is natural of humanity or something spiritually pursued?” she remarked flippantly as if such a heavy question weighed the same as the weather.
“That... is difficult to say. Why do you ask?” James was more curious about the question than what the lady expected his answer to be.
“Well, if romance is purely of the soul, then love shouldn’t happen very much at all, let alone its iterations such as desire. But if it is a need of the body, if we need love to live, then some things that may be condemned should be excused,” she remarked, again lightheartedly.
The words made James’ ears and cheeks burn. He had to be reading too much into what she said. She couldn’t be implying what he thought she was. “If I didn’t know any better milady, I’d say you were condoning some rather risqué behavior,” he replied, his tone clearly indicated he was amused.
“And from your response, I would call you a moral absolutist. But you seem far too pleasurable company.” This comment made them both laugh, and the conversation returned to its normal lightness.
By the time James had said his goodbyes and well wishes for the afternoon, they both knew that their armor had cracked.
Martha felt peace in this. She wanted to shed her armor, free herself of the punishing weight of it, peel it away so that the ability to trust was there for any gentleman interested in nurturing it.
Surely this would be some risk, but her difficult life had hardened her to such possibilities, hadn’t it? Hadn’t the cool carelessness of her late husband made her tougher? Stronger? She wished she could be certain of this, that the abuse she had endured had some sort of silver lining, but she couldn’t stop second guessing herself.
James, on the other hand, was more shaken by how content he felt at the Lady’s manor. When he left, he wasn’t even able to let himself find more than a modicum of enjoyment in it. The guilt consumed him, twisted in his gut. This wasn’t the way to honor someone's memory, to fantasize about reaching across the tea table and taking another lady by the hand, the softness of her flesh gently yielding to his rougher grasp. He was in so little control of his thoughts that he felt the shame of his own foolishness piling atop the guilt.
Was it so bad to let himself feel again? To maybe even find happiness?
He knew to allow himself to justify this desire with the potential of happiness was going to lead him down a path of heartache and sadness.
He was over thinking this situation. Caring so deeply was not going to happen. This was about sharing in company, in desiring the touch of another, not love. No, love was something he was not capable of enduring again.
Chapter Nine
Despite the guilt that he struggled with, James found himself again in Lady Carrington’s company. She had sent another invitation surprisingly soon. Given how recent their last meeting was, he had a good excuse to politely decline, but, for some reason buried less deep than he cared to admit, he replied in confirmation. Of course, he would join her for some music; he would be delighted.
