Page 1 of Enamored with a Brooding Earl
Chapter One
The winds whipped the ocean waves, causing them to break with even greater fierceness. Temperance paused for a moment, her hand still holding tight to the paintbrush before she swept it across the canvas.
My heart is like the waves. Unsettled and never finding stillness.
Tears came to her eyes and one dripped to her cheek. Hastily, Temperance wiped it away, only for her fingers to trace the scar there.
Shame burned through her and she closed her eyes, swallowing hard as she shook her head to herself. It had been two years since that dreadful day, two years since she had not only been broken in body but also in spirit. Two years since she had felt any sort of happiness.
Blinking back her tears, Temperance took in a long, steadying breath and once more, looked out at the tempestuous waves. The artwork was beginning to take shape, the waves and the shore clearly depicted but yet, she was still not contented with it. There was so much more she had to do, so many fine details she had to paint in. There was the froth of the waves as they crashed against the coastal cliffs, the fury of the wind as it whipped up the sea and the shadows of the gulls as they flew overhead. She wanted to capture all of it. Every single last moment. It was the only way she could forget about her past, the only way she could set aside all of her pain and her sorrow. Focusing solely on her artwork, thinking only about the scene before her, that was the only course she had for a little relief.
“Do come and sit down for a while, my dear.”
Temperance turned to see her aunt smiling gently at her from the door of the parlor.
“I have a tea tray set out for us in the drawing room. Will you not come and sit with me for even a few minutes?” Lady Hartford offered Temperance a small, slightly wry smile. “I have received a letter from your mother and she did beg of me to speak of some things with you.”
Temperance’s stomach twisted. “I have not quite yet finished my painting, Aunt.”
“But you will stand there and paint until it is too dark for you to see the scene before you and by that time, it will be too late for tea,” came the reply, though Temperance could tell that her aunt was doing her best to encourage her away from what she was doing simply because she wished her to take a little rest, rather than because of the hour. Aunt Matilda had always been very concerned and considerate when it came to Temperance and though she was grateful for that, Temperance wished that, on occasions such as this, she would leave her to paint rather than encourage her to take tea instead. Taking tea would mean conversation and discussion about her present situation and Temperance did not want that.
“Please, Temperance.”
The softness of her aunt’s voice made Temperance’s heart squeeze. “Very well, Aunt.”
Lady Matilda smiled. “I thank you. The tea will warm your hands, I am sure. This parlor is rather cold today. I will have a fire set for you and then when you return, the room will be a little warmer.”
“By then, I fear that the sky will have darkened and I will not be able to paint.”
Her aunt laughed softly. “My dear girl, it is only mid-morning! You will have plenty of time to paint today. I will have the maid set the fire so it is a little warmer for you. Now please, do come and sit down. You need to take a short respite, I am sure.”
Temperance followed her aunt through, pausing only for a moment as her aunt instructed a maid to set a fire in the parlor for Temperance’s return. Once seated in the drawing room, she accepted the cup of tea from her aunt and settled back a little more into her chair. Her body softened, a few aches in her neck and back becoming a little more prominent and she let out a slow breath.
Perhaps I did need this.
“You said you had a letter from my mother?” Temperance asked, seeing Lady Hartford nod. It was not something that she wished to discuss but, knowing that her aunt wanted to say something to her about it, Temperance considered it was best tobring it to the fore rather than hide it away. “What is it that she wishes you to say to me?”
Her aunt set down her tea cup and then reached for a letter which was sitting quietly on the table beside her. “Do you wish to read it yourself?”
Temperance shook her head. “No, I thank you.”
“There is nothing personal within it. But given that she writes a letter to you every sennight, I suppose that there is nothing written within this that she has not already said to you.” Her aunt offered her a small, wry smile. “Aside from the grave concern that she is expressing about your continued residence here.”
Temperance’s eyebrows lifted. “My mother does not wish me to reside here with you any longer? For what purpose?”
Her aunt let out a small sigh. “It is not that she does not want you to reside here, Temperance. It is only that she is concerned about yourabsencefrom London.”
Temperance closed her eyes, her heart dropping low. “She wants me to return to society?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“But why?” Opening her eyes, Temperance shook her head. “There is no purpose in my return to society! It is not as though any gentleman will look at me – will look at my scarred face – and consider me worthy of courtship!” Seeing the way her aunt’s gaze darted away, Temperance closed her eyes again. “She wants me to make a match, does she not?”
Lady Hartford nodded just as Temperance opened her eyes. “Yes, I believe that that is her desire for you.”
Temperance took a sip of her tea, trying to calm the upset which grew up within her. “My mother is thinking foolishly. I cannot make a good match! It has been two Seasons since I was last in society and it is not as though my face has changed in any way. If anything, despite the doctor’s best efforts, my scar remains just as prominent as it has always been.”
“That is not so.” Lady Hartford smiled encouragingly but Temperance did not even permit it to enter her heart. She knew all too well the long, jagged scar which ran from the side of her eye all the way to her jawline. She saw it every time she glanced at herself in the looking glass. Her lady’s maid had, at times, attempted to conceal it by permitting some of Temperance’s golden tresses tofall lightly to one side of her face but even that had not hidden it completely. Temperance was certain a return to London and to society would only make her the topic of every conversation and, what was worse, no gentleman would even so much as glance at her for a second time.
