Page 18 of How to Tempt An Earl (Wed Within a Year #2)

D angerous thoughts grew, fed by the mind’s willingness to rationalise away opposition until there was nothing left to keep her from staying. The longer she was with Kieran, the less reason there was to cling to her arguments for leaving and the more powerful the ‘what if’ became. By the evening of the harvest assembly, her optimism was riding high as she sat before her dressing table, letting Enid do her hair.

Perhaps it was possible to stay and have this home, have this life—a life free from Roan, where everything she touched or did would not be tainted by corruption. Surely Roan would have come by now? The five weeks Kieran had theorised as a timeline had passed—albeit only by a few days. If Roan never came, no one need ever know who she really was. She need not be anyone but the Earl of Wrexham’s fiancée, and subsequently his countess.

If she was willing to belong to him. Her hand stilled on the leaf necklace at her throat. She’d been so excited about wearing it and about tonight, so caught up in the possibilities of her new thoughts, she’d not listened to the words in her own head: to be Wrexham’s fiancée, to be his countess. To be those things meant allowing her identity to be defined by the man at her side, which was the very thing she’d wanted to protect herself against, the very thing that threatened her freedom.

Do those things threaten your freedom, or is it Roan? Would Kieran Parkhurst be the same?

That was the new challenge: her thoughts had conjured support for the idea that perhaps Kieran would be different and that she could justify having what she wanted—Kieran and her freedom—when the law was clear that these two items were diametrically opposed.

‘Miss, are you all right? You’ve gone a bit pale,’ Enid observed. ‘Have I laced you too tight?’

Celeste put a steadying hand on her stomach and took a breath. ‘Just nerves about tonight.’ She smiled in the mirror to cover the half-truth.

‘It’s a big night, to be sure,’ Enid empathised. ‘You and the handsome Earl making your debut. You’re a wonderful couple, so beautiful together and so dedicated to this house.’ Enid squeezed her shoulder. ‘You will both do fine. Everyone is so glad the house is occupied again. It’s good for all of us. We’ll be even happier when you and the Earl set a date for the wedding.’

She gave a shy smile. ‘A Christmas wedding at the Hall would be lovely. Can you imagine yourself walking down the chapel aisle in a gown of winter velvet, the pews draped in evergreens with white ribbon and silver bows?’ Enid’s eyes lit up as her idea came to life. ‘The baker in town could do the cake.’

‘It sounds lovely, Enid, like a dream.’ It did, and in that moment, Celeste wanted that dream—the velvet, the silver bows and Kieran waiting for her at the altar to step into ‘for ever’ with her. Her eyes smarted with the sudden sting of tears.

‘Miss, I didn’t mean to make you cry. We can’t ruin your face.’ Enid hurried to find a handkerchief.

‘I was just thinking about my parents missing the wedding, how much I’d want them there.’ Celeste improvised. As far as anyone at the Hall or in Wrexham knew, her parents were both dead, which was the truth. There’d been no need to elaborate.

Enid passed her a handkerchief and tried to make repairs. ‘You and the Earl will make a new family to love. Wrexham Hall was made for big families.’

If only she could have that and keep her freedom intact. If she could trust in that, then all the world would be possible.

Kieran knocked on the connecting door. ‘May I come in?’

She appreciated how he didn’t barge in and how he asked a question instead of saying, ‘you must hurry, we’re late’.

‘I’m nearly ready.’ She reached for the dangling leaf earrings and screwed them on while Enid fetched her black velvet wrap.

‘There is no rush.’ Kieran took the wrap from Enid and settled it around Celeste’s shoulders. ‘You look beautiful, my darling.’ He placed a kiss on her neck despite Enid being in the room and Celeste felt herself blush.

‘You are looking fine, yourself. The new clothes fit well.’ A little too well to the eyes of someone trying to keep her wits about her. She’d seen him in dark evening clothes before—he’d worn the former Earl’s the first night here—but those had not been made for his shoulders. There was something undeniably elegant about the way a man wore bespoke clothing.

Kieran tugged at his cuffs, showing off onyx cuff-links that matched the cravat pin. ‘The tailor did well; I am glad you approve.’ There was a twinkle in his eye as he offered his arm. ‘Our carriage awaits. Shall we be off to the ball?’

* * *

In truth, to call it a ball would be an overstatement. It was an assembly, held in the rooms above the largest inn in town in honour of the harvest and the autumn. It was an annual affair and everyone turned out for it, from the merchants who lived in town to the farmers who lived in the countryside. There was a festive air about the streets as the coach pulled up to the door and they joined the stream of arriving guests.

Inside, the inn was decorated for autumn with arrangements of corn sheaves and pumpkins filling corners, and garlands of dried leaves in bright golds and oranges looped about the banister leading up the stairs to the assembly rooms. Downstairs was set up for refreshments and there were tables where people might visit away from the music. There was laughter and loud chatter as friends called out to each other. Women met, exclaiming over each other’s dresses. Men shook hands and greeted each other as if they hadn’t seen one another earlier in the day.

A wave of emotion swept Celeste at the sense of community the event fostered. Kieran caught her eye. ‘It’s not fancy,’ he began, perhaps misreading the expression on her face.

She turned to look up at him. ‘It’s better than fancy. This feels right .’ No supper or ball she’d ever hosted for Roan had felt like this—the simple pleasure of friends and family celebrating together. Crystal chandeliers and cool champagne were no substitute for joy.

Kieran covered her hand where it lay on his arm, his voice quiet as he read her thoughts. ‘Don’t think of him, and don’t think of the past tonight.’ He flashed her a smile, dispelling her ghosts. ‘I want to dance with the loveliest woman here—will you do me the honour?’

‘And I want to dance with the handsomest man,’ she flirted as he led her upstairs. It took them a while to reach the dance floor. People were eager to meet them and they were eager to oblige. Some of the people they encountered on the stairs were people they’d already met and some were newly introduced. Celeste savoured it all.

‘I’m sorry, that took longer than expected,’ Kieran apologised as they joined a set for a quadrille.

‘I don’t mind. I liked meeting everyone.’ Those moments on the stairs, talking with people, had been a glimpse into a future—a future she could choose if she was brave enough. A future full of more nights like this one, in which she would be part of a community and in which she would be more than a man’s tool, something to be used to manipulate other men.

More than that, she thought as the dance began and she and Kieran bowed to the others in the set, she’d liked watching him greet everyone. He was affable, friendly and interested in what people had to say, even though their small talk afforded him nothing. There was no great intrigue to ferret out here. Kieran took her hands and they sashayed about their set, his gaze smiling at her. She smiled back, remembering the night she’d told him he was nice. She’d not been wrong. Roan gave the appearance of being nice when it got him something. Kieran was nice even when nothing was at stake.

The dance ended and she and Kieran moved off to the sidelines to talk more informally to the group with whom they’d danced. This was further proof of Kieran’s niceness. There was no requirement for him to spend time with anyone and yet he was willing to do it.

‘You will make a fine earl,’ she said once the group had finally broken up. ‘You are patient and giving of your time. You listen to people. You make them feel valued. That’s a great gift.’

He’d been that way with her from the start. She’d just been too wary to appreciate it. She’d seen it as a strategy only, a way to get beyond her defences. This was further proof that he was different from the men she’d known. The hopeful conclusion leapt forward once more—if he was different, then it followed that together they could be different, too. Being with him need not mean committing herself to a social prison. For the first time since she’d promised herself to seek and protect her own freedom, she saw that promise not as a shield for her happiness but as a limitation to it.

The little orchestra struck up a waltz and they took to the floor once more.

‘Get ready to fly.’ Kieran grinned, and fly they did. It was the most wonderful sensation, to feel his hand at her waist, to feel her skirts bell out and to know that, no matter how fast they danced, she would not fall. He would catch her. Kieran Parkhurst would always catch her if she would just let go. Maybe she could, after all.

They were one of the last couples to leave the assembly shortly after midnight. She had a small hole in the bottom of her right slipper and her feet would be sore tomorrow but she didn’t care. After the waltz, she’d danced with the doctor, then with the squire, the vicar and then Kieran again. It had been a wondrous evening full of high spirits, perhaps due in part to her own realisation: Kieran Parkhurst was not Cabot Roan; he never had been. He was a man who deserved to be judged on his own merits. She didn’t have to give him up. She could stay. They could build a life in Wrexham, a good life as the Earl and the Countess. In the euphoria of the evening, her mind was willing to overlook some of the details that went with wanting to claim that life. In the happy moment, those loose ends didn’t seem to matter.

‘Everyone adored you, but none as much as me.’ In the carriage, Kieran put his arm around her and she snuggled against him, flexing her right foot and celebrating the hole in her slipper. Celebrating, too, that she was finally able to put the past behind her. She was not Roan’s ward, not his hostess and no longer his conspirator in crime planning his parties and escorting his guests. She had a new life here if she was brave enough to take it. It was not the life she’d thought she could have. Tonight had shown her otherwise. Perhaps all these weeks had been building towards it and tonight was just the pinnacle. Perhaps not every man would treat her as a partner but, as long as this one did, that was all that mattered.

‘You belong here, Celeste. You belong with me,’ he murmured against her hair.

Yes, she did. For the first time, she believed it. She sighed against Kieran’s shoulder, drowsy from the dancing. Perhaps she would stay after all. Perhaps, the next time he asked her into his future, she would say yes.

Lights still glowed in the windows when they arrived home at Wrexham Hall: four lamps, one in every window on either side of the door.

‘What a lovely sight to come home to.’ Celeste thought they looked warm and inviting, flooding the crisp autumn night with their light.

But Kieran instantly tensed. ‘Those are the Horsemen’s lights—our signal. Something’s happened.’

He was out of the carriage before it stopped, hastily helping her down. His tension was contagious and she felt a knot take up residence in her stomach. The Horsemen’s signal. The euphoria of the evening leeched away.

The front door opened. Trafton had been watching out for them. Two other men were with him, tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed and dressed in clothes that showed signs of hard travel: his brothers; the other two Horsemen. Fear and panic rose.

‘Caine, Luce…’ Kieran strode forward, his welcome confirming it. He embraced them. ‘Has there been news?’

News that had sent his brothers all the way to Wales…

Caine spoke, low and serious. ‘There’s been word from Casek and Worth. Roan has slipped through our watch on the coast and we lost him in London.’

She watched his eyes close, his throat work as he drew a deep breath, digesting the news and what it meant: for her, for his brothers, his family, for England and for Europe…never just himself alone. Knowing Kieran, he was planning his next moves even now. When his eyes opened and he looked at her, the dancing, laughing Earl that had spun her across the floor for the closing Roger de Coverley less than an hour ago was gone, replaced by the man she’d met in St Luke’s. Perhaps when he looked at her she was no longer the possibly future Countess of Wrexham, but Celeste Sharpton, Cabot Roan’s ward once again. They’d come a long way in the past weeks but they’d not come far enough.

‘He is coming.’ She said the words for him, holding his gaze, taking strength from his eyes, careful to match his even tones with hers even as she fought back her rising fear. He needed her to be strong. The euphoria of the evening vanished, taking with it her newly burgeoning hopes. Tonight, she’d felt like the Countess of Wrexham. For a while, she’d lived a bucolic life, a safe life, and it had felt as if she’d truly put the days of living in Roan’s world behind her. She’d fooled herself into believing the impossible. She’d told herself a lie and nearly made dangerous choices based on that lie.

She would never only be just the Countess of Wrexham any more than Kieran would be just the Earl. He was also a Horseman, and this was a Horseman’s life—one moment a country earl, the next moment danger and intrigue landing on his front step that would take him from home with no guarantee of return. She had not escaped that life after all. But she knew what to do, and she knew what Kieran needed from her.

‘Trafton, please wake the servants. We’ll need tea and food with some substance to it. These men have ridden hard and have a long night ahead of them.’ As did she. Decisions had to be made.