Page 2 of Enamored with a Brooding Earl
“Your sisters are both married and settled,” her aunt murmured, gently. “It is only right that your mother should now consider you.”
“My sisters both have perfect complexions, Aunt.” A seed of bitterness entered into Temperance’s heart. Her sisters had cared very little about what had happened to Temperance, seemingly to be nothing but relieved thattheyhad been spared such a thing. They had barely spoken to Temperance as she had recovered from the accident and in the two years that Temperance had lived here with her aunt and uncle, neither of them had written to her to see how she fared. The only way Temperance had heard of their marriage was through a letter from her mother. She had not even been invited to their weddings. Evidently, her sisters had not wanted to have their beautiful ceremonies spoiled by her presence.
“You must not let your injury – and the scar which lingers – define who you are. And certainly you must not let yourself believe that every gentleman in London will look at you and see only your scar!” Lady Hartford leaned forward in her chair, a gentle gleam of encouragement in her eye but Temperance only shook her head. “Come now, Temperance,” Lady Hartford continued, gently. “You are intelligent, talented – your paintings are beautiful – and you have excellent conversation, poise and elegance. Your heart is compassionate and kind. There is more to you than your outward appearance, is there not? And the right gentleman will see that.”
“I do not think I can believe that, Aunt.” Temperance sipped her tea so that she could hide her tears from her aunt. In the last two years, she had done nothing but consider what had happened at the time of her accident and, thereafter, considered just how bleak her future might be.
“Do not think that every gentleman is like Edmund, Temperance.”
A harsh note entered her aunt’s voice and, a little surprised, Temperance blinked back her tears as she looked to the lady. LadyHartford was scowling, a shadow flickering over her expression as she looked away from Temperance and to the window instead.
“I fear, Aunt, that most – if not every – gentleman in London is like Edmund,” Temperance admitted, in a half whisper. Edmund, the Marquess of Barlington, had been her betrothed at one time. He had declared his devotion to her, had stated how much he adored her and how much joy there was waiting for them and Temperance had believed every word. In fact, she had been swept away by him, overcome with hope and excitement as to what their future as man and wife would be – and then the accident had happened. They had been out riding with some other friends and acquaintances at his estate, when her horse had shied suddenly. Temperance had been thrown from it, pain lacing through her body and her head – and her face also. She had been injured, yes, but those injuries had healed. It was the scars they had left behind which had pushed Edmund away.
Her eyes closed, a slight tremble running through her. The moment Edmund had told her that their engagement had come to an end, she had felt her world shrink. He had not been able to look at her, had not been able to keep her gaze and that had told her everything she had needed to know about him. The gentleman was a coward, yes, but he had broken her heart regardless. Too late, she had realized that there was nothing genuine about his supposed affections. He had been nothing but a fraud, pretending that he felt more than he truly did and she had accepted every word from him as truth.
Darkness had overtaken her, then, and even now, it had not left her. She was torn apart, broken by his betrayal, shunned by the injuries she had endured. Her beauty was marred, her heart shattered and all that had been left for her was to retreat.
“You will not return to London, then? You will not go back to society for the Season?”
Her aunt’s quiet question whispered to Temperance and she quickly shook her head, blinking back the tears which returned to her all too quickly.
“I do not think I can, Aunt,” she whispered, honestly. “It is already too much for me even tothinkof it.”
Lady Hartford smiled and nodded gently. “I understand,” she said, softly. “I will write to your mother and tell her that we have spoken of it. That will satisfy her, I am sure.”
Temperance managed a slightly wobbly smile but then excused herself to go back to her painting. The room was already a little warmer thanks to the fire which had been lit but Temperance’s turbulent emotions were more unsettled than ever. She picked up her paintbrush, ready to begin again, but her vision was quickly blurred with tears. Temperance sniffed and closed her eyes tightly to press them back but they refused to listen and instead, continued to come. Setting her paintbrush down, Temperance dropped her head and let the tears fall. There was still so much pain within her heart, a pain which never seemed to fade or disappear. It was all she could do to bear it.
Chapter Two
“I am certainlynotdisappointed that we did not stay in London this Season, not when I can smell the sea air from here!”
James glanced to his mother and permitted himself a small smile though, inwardly, his heart ached heavier still as the very same scent which brought his mother such comfort brought himself a good deal of trouble.
“It is a wonderful place,” his mother continued, speaking as though she were alone in the carriage. “It has been too long since we were able to return here.”
James let out a slow breath. “I am sorry it has taken so long,” he answered, seeing his mother look to him directly. “There has been much to do since… well, since the sorrows which have broken our hearts.”
Lady Calverton reached across and touched his hand. “You know that I do not blame you for your brother’s death.”
A shake of his head was James’ only answer.
“He was not as he ought to be,” Lady Calverton continued, her voice wobbling a little as James turned his head to look out of the window, aware of his own emotions rising steadily. “He should have taken on the title with decorum and with a seriousness which he did not possess. I am broken-hearted over his passing but I am not about to pretend that he was everything that he ought to be.”
“I should have been here,” James muttered, shaking his head. “The Great Adventure was not something I wasrequiredto take on. It was something I chose to do.”
“It is something that many a gentleman takes on, however, and you had every right to go and explore this world, just as you pleased! You were the second born, you were not the one who was to bear any great responsibility. Your father was pleased that you were to go to other countries, just as he himself had done.”
“I missed his passing, however,” James answered, his heart aching all over again. “And by the time news reached me of the funeral, Simon had already taken on the title and had not even considered the mourning period! I returned home to find him in such a degenerate state, he could not be saved from it. Had I been in England, had I been present at the time of father’s passing, Imight have been able to do something to protect him from such a path.”
Again, his mother reached across to take his hand, though this time, she held on a little longer. James was forced to turn to look at her, seeing the tears glistening in her eyes but also the tightness about her jaw.
“You did nothing wrong in behaving as you did,” she said, firmly. “Your brother chose to go to that gambling den. He chose to place a bet with coin he did not have. He chose to take on a foolish fight when he was already heavily in his cups. His death might not have occurred had he not chosen to do all those things but when we consider what happened, we have no choice but to place the guilt solely upon his own shoulders.”
James shook his head. “It was such a waste, was it not?”
“The money he threw away?”
Holding his mother’s gaze, James’ heart turned over in his chest, guilt still rattling around him. “His life, Mama. I mean that he threw away his life because he was chasing pleasure rather than responsibility. I do not think that such a choice was worth it.”
