Page 123 of How the Belle Stole Christmas
“How could that be?” she challenged on a whisper. “I don’t know what I would be begging for.”
He blinked, some of the sanity returning to his gaze. He dropped his hands as if she were suddenly on fire and stepped back from her. He clutched the post of the bed and turned his head aside. “I am not a despoiler of innocents. You never told me you were a virgin.”
Trying to gain control of her wayward emotions, Claire smoothed the front of her dress and attempted to ignore the way her hands were shaking. “I didn’t think it was a subject that needed to be addressed. That is not why I’m here, Lord Darville.”
He closed his eyes as if he were in pain. “I need to be alone. Leave me.”
She wasn’t going to question his demand. She needed time to herself to try to remember her true purpose for being here. It certainly wasn’t to fall in love with the master of this house. She turned to go, but she paused. “The decorations?”
“They can remain,” he growled softly. “But any other enhancements to my house or grounds will need to be approved by me.”
She inclined her head. “Of course.”
Slipping out of the room, Claire was hoping she might have time to gather herself, but Tobin and Mrs. Peel were waiting for her on the landing.
They appeared anxious, so Claire couldn’t brush aside their unease.
“Lord Darville has thanked us for our thoughtfulness and has agreed to leave things as they are.”
She added a bit of a white lie, which they immediately seemed to see right through. “At least he didn’t demand for all of our hard work to be dismantled.”
The housekeeper released a sigh and headed back downstairs.
Claire was hoping Tobin would follow, but the aged butler offered her a bit of advice.
“I’m sure you’ve realized by now that the earl is not a bad man.
He is just… misguided at the moment.” He held an expression of nostalgia when he added, “I recall the vigorous lad he was before the war. You would not have associated him as the same man.”
“I am aware of what destruction lies at the bottom of a terrible tragedy,” she offered softly. “I have encountered many like the earl who have given up on their lives and the love of those around them. But that doesn’t mean we must stop trying to remind them of their worth.”
Tobin smiled slightly. “You are a good lady to have around, Miss Meyer. I daresay I will be sorry when it is time for you to leave. The house will not be the same without you. And something tells me Lord Darville won’t be either.”
When Claire was finally able to shut herself in her chamber for a time, she found that exhaustion had settled in.
She had gotten up quite early that morning and braved the snow with the rest of the servants searching for just the right boughs of greenery to display in the house.
They had covered most of the forest with lanterns since their quest had begun before the sun had risen.
She was thankful that the earl had not refused their gift, but combining the apprehension of the earl’s response and the passionate encounter that had just taken place, Claire decided that she would lay down for a bit. Just a slight repose to rest her eyes…
The next time Claire looked at the clock it was half past noon.
With a gasp, she got to her feet and brushed the wrinkles from her dress and ensured that her hair was presentable before she opened her door. A glance at the great hall showed the chair Lord Darville normally occupied was empty.
She quickly searched the Oak Room and where the billiards table was, but he was nowhere to be found. She dared not return to his chambers, so she headed to the kitchens to see if cook knew where the master might have disappeared.
“He went into the village,” the cook said on a whisper, as if she were imparting a great secret.
“Oh. I… see.” Claire was rather surprised to hear this as she was under the impression that the earl never left the house unless it was absolutely imperative, and even then, he generally found a way to decline. “Did he say why?”
“No, miss, but he made the announcement to Tobin that his horse needed to be saddled and I thought he might fall over from the shock of it.”
Mrs. Peel entered through the back door and spied Claire. Immediately, her face brightened. “Did cook tell you?”
“About the earl? Yes, she did.”
The housekeeper shook her head, equally perplexed by the odd turn of events.
“I daresay I have not known him to willingly leave Darville House unless it was an utter catastrophe. I can’t imagine what he might be about, but—” She looked at Claire.
“—if this is a step in the right direction toward his recovery, I know his sister will be highly pleased. You will have no worries about gaining a glowing recommendation from the lady. You did know she was a duchess, did you not?”
Claire blinked. “I am afraid I didn’t, but it does seem like a good development for the earl’s progress.”
As she left the kitchens, she tried to understand what the earl could possibly have to do that required his immediate attention.
Of course, the scenario had entered her mind that he’d gone to the village to secure her passage back to London.
They had not parted on purely favorable terms that morning.
Had he thought about it and considered her desire to brighten his surroundings a major overstep and was washing his hands of her presence?
She put a hand to her stomach and knew that until the earl returned, she had nothing but conjectures to fill her mind.
Desperate for something to do until then, Claire headed to the billiards room.
She’d almost gone back to the library, but after the last mishap there, and considering she wasn’t sure she could concentrate on anything she might attempt to read; the most logical choice was something that didn’t require much effort at all.
Ethan dismounted and handed the reins over to his groom, whose expression was almost comical when he’d hobbled outside with the intent to leave the house of his own free will.
He hadn’t realized that his desire to venture out now and again was so disrupting, but when he’d ridden through the village, he’d never seen so many wide-eyed and fearful expressions.
It was as if he were carrying the plague rather than suffering from a war injury.
He realized his demeanor hadn’t always been pleasant and he decided that it was time to make a change.
He had Claire to thank for that. He had nearly tossed her down on his bed and lain with her like a common whore.
That was enough to tell him that his actions were deplorable.
Whether or not he was miserable, that didn’t give him the right to ignore years of comportment and instruction on how to be a proper gentleman.
He should have realized this long ago, of course, but it had taken a strong woman like Clair Meyer, who refused to give up on his damned soul for him to see what a deplorable ass he’d truly become.
But no longer.
She might not have him, but Ethan had plans for his future and it included Claire.
He could not let a woman like that slip through his fingers when she was the reason he was gaining a second chance at life.
He had given up on everything. It was time to rise from the ashes and spread his wings once more.
Although he was out of practice with his apologies and flirtations, Ethan had an idea of how he might try to earn Claire’s forgiveness.
After purchasing what he wanted from the local shop, the lady behind the counter turning white at the sight of him, Ethan bid her a good day and then headed back home with a smile on his face.
It was a mixture of amusement for the way he’d been treated in the village and the anticipation of seeing Claire once more.
He walked in the front door, and Tobin was there to take his hat and greatcoat and to assist him with his boots. “How did it go, my lord?”
“It was a rather intriguing venture,” he returned with another smirk. “It was as though the people of Tetbury had forgotten I was human instead of some fearsome specter that had abruptly wandered into their midst.”
“I can imagine that is true,” his butler returned, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.
Ethan glanced upstairs and imagined that he could see Claire’s ebony hair fanned out on her pillow, her blue eyes closed in silent repose. “Is Miss Meyer still asleep?”
“No. She is playing billiards.”
“Is she?” Ethan lifted a brow. “Thank you, Tobin. That will be all.”
With his cane ever present at his side, Ethan made his way to the room where the faint sound of cracking balls could be heard as he drew closer.
He didn’t immediately alert the lady of his presence, preferring instead to watch the intense concentration on her face as she set up her shot. He would never grow tired of the skill with which she played. He was quite sure that she would excel in every aspect of her life that she chose to pursue.
However, he was surprised when the ball missed its intended target. She exhaled heavily and hung her head in obvious disappointment. He couldn’t allow her to suffer alone. “Tough morning?” he asked, as he pushed off the doorframe.
Her head snapped back up, and she studied him with a slight flush on her face. She slowly laid her stick down. “I fear my attention is elsewhere,” she replied.
“No doubt our earlier interlude is responsible for that.”
She hesitated, as if surprised that he was speaking so plainly. “I daresay you’re right,” she returned just as boldly. She looked at him curiously. “Why did you leave?”
“There was something I had to do.” He made his way over to a chair and sat down. “But I find it was quite a bit of moving that I’m not used to as yet. I could use some of your expert ministrations.”
She said nothing, just crossed the room and bent down to set her hands on his leg and massage the aching muscles. “Did you not do any of your exercises?” she asked, a hint of admonishment in her tone.
“I did. But it has been months since I rode,” he explained.
There was a lull in the conversation, and all Ethan could do was admire the delicate curve of her face and the way the firelight played across the shadows of her delectable body. He vowed that someday he would see her bathed in nothing but that soft glow. But first, he had some things to atone for.
He opened his mouth to speak, to say the words that were burning in his chest, but he never got the chance.