Page 6 of The Earl and the Vixen
Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, and her knuckles were white from how hard she continued to grip the side of the oak desk. “He wouldn’t, Papa. He does love me. Something must be wrong.”
“How much more proof do you need?” her father challenged, waving his hand towards the parchment on the floor. “I told you he was no good and that his presence would only cause you harm. He is as entitled and useless as his father. Better that you learnt the truth now.”
Eliza’s thoughts muddled and she struggled to accept what was right in front of her face. She could hardly see from how hard she sobbed.
She wiped her eyes and swallowed hard. “May I be excused, Papa? I wish to return to my chamber.”
His expression softened, and he patted her shoulder. “Of course.”
When her father returned behind his desk, she quickly grabbed the crumpled parchment from the floor and fled the room. She didn’t slow her pace until she was on the other side of her locked chamber door.
She smoothed the parchment and read it over and over, again and again. Eliza didn’t want to believe it was true, but how could she not? Nick hadn’t shown up at the hunting cabin and hadn’t called on her that day. He would have appeared to her if there was a mistake. But the coward couldn’t even face her, instead sending a note to break her heart and make her wise to what he was truly about.
How had she been such a fool? She fell for every one of his hollow words, believing that he loved her. She had been nothing but a game to him. A way to lash out at her family because of the bad blood between their fathers. A way to use her body to sate his own needs until he had tired of doing so. He’d tell everyone how he bedded her, fucking her in every way imaginable, and she’d be ruined.
One thing was certain: she wasn’t stepping foot in London for the season. Why bother? If all that had transpired had taught her anything, it was that she would be better off without a husband. Although, if she were honest with herself, she wished to avoid encountering Nick. If she had to be in his presence again, there was no telling what she might do to him. Part of her longed to rip him to shreds.
The other part of her, however, longed for understanding. Longed to believe there was a part of him that loved her. It couldn’t have all been an act, could it? He may not love her, but even her pride couldn’t get her to pretend she didn’t love him. And as long as she still harbored any love for him, she couldn’t face him. She couldn’t be trusted to think with sense and for every fiber of her being not to want him. It was clear she would need more time than she cared to admit to stop loving that vile, wretched bastard.
Chapter 3
Norfolk, England - September 1814
Eliza allowed the footman to hand her down from her father’s carriage, with her maid, Dot, following behind her. She glanced up at the opulent country home of Viscount and Viscountess Ockham. The house would be her home for the coming fortnight, along with around thirty other guests. Her hosts decided to hold a big house party since they weren’t in town for the season due to the birth of their child. It would appear that they had decided to go all out and make it a large event. And knowing her hostess, the party wouldn’t be dull.
Moments after her feet hit the ground, the fiery viscountess greeted her. “I am so gladyou could join our house party, Lady Eliza. I do hope you enjoy the entertainment I have planned,” the lady said.
“Thank you for the invitation, my lady,” she returned. “I have been looking forward to it.”
Lord Ockham reached his wife’s side and wrapped his arm around her waist. Eliza formed a tight smile, fighting not to roll her eyes. The couple was notoriously a love match, and their outward display of affection was enough to make her gag. They were a striking couple as well, both with dark hair and piercing eyes, which only made their perfect love all the more irritating, even if she did like them both very much.
Even though she enjoyed the couple, she had long given up on the belief that love was real. Three years of living in the torture and pain left in the wake of Nick’s cruel treatment of her was a constant ongoing reminder that would dissuade her of any notion that she might give what little was left of her heart to another man. She tried that once, giving everything she had, including her virtue, to Nick before he crushed her heart into tiny pieces and threw them back in her face.
“Good to see you, Lady Eliza,” Lord Ockham said, bowing to her.
“Same to you, my lord,” she replied. “Your home is lovely.”
Lady Ockham motioned to a man who appeared to be their butler. “Baxter,” the viscountess said, “please show Lady Eliza to her chamber and coordinate the delivery of her trunks.” She shifted her attention back to Eliza. “I put you in the room next to Lady Juliet. She arrived a quarter hour before you. Once you are settled, we will all gather in the salon at six sharp before dinner is served.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Eliza replied. “I shall see you shortly.”
Eliza was relieved that Juliet had already arrived. Lady Juliet Lane, the daughter and only child of the Earl of Avon, had become one of her closest friends when she attended her first season in London. The two of them each had their reasons for shying away from the gentlemen of society. Juliet was the one person she had trusted with her biggest secret, that she had given her maidenhead, among other things, to the most despicable gentleman of society. Although, given that he’d never shown his face at anytonevents, perhaps he wasn’t a member of society after all.
The belief that he was too much of a coward to face her gave her a small sense of satisfaction. She hadn’t heard word that he had died, so she hoped he was somewhere, afraid of what she might do to him if she ever saw him again. She heard from her papa that Nick’s father had passed over a year ago, not that her father was displeased to hear the news. That meant Nick had become the Earlof Craven and could pick up the battle over the stream, like the bacon-brained dolt he was. The feud over a body of water had been enough to make her collateral damage. That was all her love and virtue had been worth to the man.
As much as she tried to push him from her thoughts, she surmised that he should be out of mourning. The last time she laid eyes upon the blackguard, he spoke of his undying love for her. Granted, he had just come on her tongue mere moments before he said so. The man should have taken to the stage, given the skill he possessed to make one believe he felt things he didn’t.
Eliza gritted her teeth, recalling the memory of them lying across the settee together. She forced herself to focus on her surroundings as she made her way up the staircase behind Baxter. She could almost smell the cedar and bergamot scent she would forever associate with him. She thought of him far more frequently than she cared to admit, even all the years later. He had become a sickness she would never recover from, no matter how hard she tried.
“Eliza! You are finally here!” Juliet called to her, standing in the doorway of the room they passed by.
“You will be in this room,” Baxter said, motioning to the doorway beyond where Juliet stood.
Eliza thanked him, and he retreated towards the staircase. Juliet approached her and they bussed each other’s cheeks. Eliza’s friend pulled her into the room where Juliet was staying, and they each took their seats in chairs by the fireplace.
“This is going to be a fun fortnight,” Juliet said. “I can’t believe both of our mamas let us come without them.”
“Well, it may not be the case for you at nine-and-ten, Jules, but I am practically a spinster. Mama had no concerns about sending me on my own,” Eliza said.
