Chapter Six
Elaina stood in her room at the Lucky Goose Inn deciding whether she should go down to meet the earl for dinner or take her meal in her room to avoid him.
After spending the entire day with him in the carriage, she shouldn’t want to see him again. She shouldn’t have anything left to say.
But she apparently hadn’t gotten her fill as was evident by the way she was already halfway down the stairs before consciously deciding to do so.
He had apologized. It was clear he had no recollection of what he’d done so his apology was empty and worthless. Scotland had plenty of bugs and worms that could find their way into the earl’s bed. Except it meant she would have to collect them herself and the idea was less than pleasant.
Guilt pricked at her conscience.
This was not good. This was her chance for vengeance—though she had not as of yet come up with a proper plan—she couldn’t allow guilt to plague her moment of revenge.
She would have been better off staying in her room and gathering what was left of her defenses around her. Preparing for the next battle. Considering her options for making him pay for the pain he’d caused all those years ago. For the earl had clearly won today.
She’d promised herself she wouldn’t speak to him but found herself sharing stories of The Orient and South America for hours. All the while he asked her questions as if he was genuinely interested in her answers.
She’d been sure she wouldn’t fall victim to his charms, but she’d laughed at his tales of mischief with his friends when they attended Heriot’s in Edinburgh. She loved the way he said certain words, enthralled by his accent.
She’d never in a million years thought she was in danger of becoming friends with the man who had ruined her debut and broken her heart, yet she’d laughed with him as if they’d known each other all their lives.
He’d broken through her every defense and she could barely remember the pain he’d inflicted or the anger she’d held for him.
“Miss, Lord Melville has secured a private dining room, this way,” the innkeeper said while gesturing to the door opposite the taproom.
She was pleased not to have to deal with the loud, boisterous men in the other room or have to navigate inappropriate conversation as unchecked men were likely to engage in.
While she was no demure girl, she also didn’t want to spend the evening with a group of ribald miscreants. And if she was also pleased to have Lord Melville to herself, it wasn’t worth mentioning.
And when had she started thinking of him as Lord Melville rather than Lord Mel-villain? This was not good at all.
She stood on the battlefield with nothing with which to defend herself, spare the smile that came to her lips when she entered the room. He stood to greet her, his own smile pulling up.
“Miss Bantham, I hoped you would join me for dinner though I didn’t want you to feel obligated.”
He’d hoped? For her? Of course, he hadn’t meant it the way she’d rearranged his words in her mind.
“Sharing a meal is better for digestion is it not?” she said, sensibly.
“I whole-heartedly agree. Would you care for some wine?”
“Yes, please,” she said as he assisted her into her seat across from his as any fine gentleman would.
In her darkest days, she’d envisioned the man as a monster. Seeing him with his elegant manners on display was surprising, though she couldn’t remember a time over the last few weeks when he hadn’t been the very thing of gentlemanly behavior.
The scents of beeswax candles, roasted meat, and whatever fragrance clung to Melville provided additional comfort to the cozy room. The exposed beams and the stone hearth gave it a homey feel.
After he had poured her wine, he raised his own glass.
“A toast to new friends and old treasures.”
She hesitated just a moment before smiling and tapping her glass to his. He’d made it clear he was only interested in friendship, and she hadn’t expected more. She wished she hadn’t thought of more. How had she gone from hating him to wondering what it might feel like to kiss him in the space of one day?
Was she so fickle? So desperate for a man’s attention? So weak?
She didn’t think herself so, but the smile that pulled up on her lips in answer to his was proof she wasn’t as formidable as she’d thought herself to be.
Familiar disappointment and irritation flared as he put her soundly in her place. Friends.
The first bricks of her wall came up. She was in danger of wanting the very man who made it quite clear he would never want her. Another brick and another went up as she ate the meal that now tasted of ash and listened to him weave his web of betrayal. With every laugh and every glimpse of that dimple that only came out when he smiled in earnest, she repaired the wall he’d so easily brought down.
She would have to keep a better watch. He had declared them friends. It would be difficult to extricate herself now.
If nothing else, acting the part of his friend would allow her access to mete out her plan of retaliation, though she had yet to settle on a proper retribution. She shouldn’t have lost sight of what she’d wanted because he’d been kind to her during their travels.
He was still the Villain Melville she’d first encountered many years ago. She was a fool to expect anything else.
*
It seemed asif Julian was starting from the beginning with Miss Bantham. She’d offered a smile for his toast, but he certainly felt a chill coming from her.
He didn’t know what he’d said to offend her again, perhaps she was just of a constitution to sway from one emotion to the next at random.
He’d called them friends to ensure she didn’t think he had entertained any lewd thoughts of her, even if he had more than a few the entire time he’d changed for dinner.
As they’d traveled, he’d worked hard for every laugh and smile and been rewarded more easily as they moved north. He’d shared things with her he hadn’t told another soul and now he wondered why.
Miss Bantham was a sorceress with powers his mortal mind could not grasp.
It was not as he’d thought originally, that his interest in her was simply the mystery she presented by her unjustified anger. Perhaps it had started out that way, but he found he simply liked spending time with her.
“I see you managed to dress without your valet,” she noted as the serving maid left the room after bringing them another bottle of wine.
“It might be the first time since I became the earl. I nearly forgot how it was done,” he joked and earned an indulgent smile from her.
He wanted to get them back to where they’d been in the carriage. Sharing and laughing.
“I can only imagine what he’ll have to say about my cravats when I arrive in Scotland.”
She blinked. “Your valet is meeting us in Scotland?”
“I sent him ahead with my trunks so he can set up before I arrive.”
She set down her glass and pressed her lips together. In the short time he’d spent with her, he understood the expression. She had something she wished to say.
“What is it?” he prodded.
“It’s surely not my business, but generally we are much more relaxed when on an expedition. We don’t dress formally when our clothing will become soiled or damaged. There’s no point in it.”
She shrugged and went back to her meal.
“I recall you referred to me as a dandy at the ball…” He paused and took in the slight wince and blush from his reminder. “But in truth, it isn’t the assistance with my wardrobe, or any concerns with fashion that had me bring my valet.”
“Oh?”
“You may find it strange, but I feel I can share things of a personal nature with you.” He waited to see her response, hoping this confession would bring down whatever obstacle had wedged its way between them in this short time.
She offered a small shrug as she finished chewing her roast.
“If you’re concerned I will gossip about it at a ball, you have nothing to worry about.”
“It’s nothing so odd to merit gossip I wouldn’t think. It’s just that Bentley, my valet, is a dear friend.”
“You are friends with your servant?” she said in surprise but did not seem put off by it.
“Yes. I think of him as the father I never had.”
She took a sip of her wine and sat it down as if pondering.
“You became the earl at four and twenty. So, you did have a father all of your youth.”
He couldn’t help the grin that exploded across his face.
“And how did you happen to remember that?” he teased when he probably shouldn’t have.
She was only mildly flustered before collecting herself.
“I checked into you when my uncle informed me we would be going on this journey together. I didn’t wish to travel with someone unsafe.”
“Of course,” he agreed, but wasn’t so sure. Rather than let it go as he should have, he pressed another matter. “You knew I was left-handed.” He held up his fork in his left hand.
“Excuse me?”
“At the shop when you were helping me purchase my set of tools. You presented them to me for a left-handed person. Did whomever you hired to look into me share that fact?”
“No. Over the years you have attended several of my uncle’s Expedition Balls. I have had the misfortune of sitting next to you on three occasions. Each time on your left side where you proceeded to bump into my arm with every bite.”
“Is that so? I don’t remember being seated beside you.”
She let out a sigh he could easily translate as annoyance.
“That is because on every occasion, a beautiful woman sat on your right side to capture every second of your attention. I am better suited for intelligent conversation than physical appeal, so it is not such a surprise you chose as you did.”
He set his glass down and stared at his plate a moment.
“I can’t help but feel I’ve been insulted.”
“You are permitted to feel any way you wish, as am I.”
His attempts to have her warm to him were clearly going in the opposite direction. He needed to do something to rectify the situation.
He thought of a hundred things he could say to charm his way out of his awkward situation.
I obviously didn’t know what true beauty was back then.This had some truth to it, but not enough to win her over.
I knew you were too good for the likes of me.Even more truth, but she wouldn’t believe he was sincere.
When I was a child I spoke as a child and was distracted by breasts.No. He couldn’t win her respect with blasphemy. Besides, that was a lie. He was still distracted by breasts. Currently hers. Blast it all.
What was wrong with him? He could come up with a cheeky quip that would have worked on any other woman of the ton. Except this one, apparently.
Rather than address the reason he had ignored her on multiple occasions—because he truly had no answer—he shared something he hadn’t shared with anyone.
“My father didn’t allow me to be left-handed.”
She blinked, no doubt as surprised by what he’d said as he was.
“Did he believe you to be evil? I thought that thinking had been done away with long ago.”
Julian shook his head and set down the fork on the left side of his plate so he could flex his fingers. The pain from being cracked on the knuckles was long gone, but he remembered the ache.
“No. He didn’t think I was evil. He thought it unfitting of his heir.”
Her brows creased as she stared at her plate. If she was attempting to find reason in his father’s rationale, she would be disappointed. There was nothing rational about his father.
“There were actually many, many things about me he found unacceptable. I was never smart enough, brave enough, fast enough. I was too tall, too unruly, too… left-handed.”
He offered a strained laugh but continued. In for a penny, as it were.
“I was reminded daily that I was a disgrace. Being Scottish made it more difficult to be taken seriously in London, and he could only be glad he would be dead when I took over the title so he wouldn’t have to see such an abomination.”
She reached across the small table and rested her hand on top of his, shattering whatever distance had settled between them earlier.
He hadn’t felt such comfort since he’d been a lad and his mother had been alive. Though the way his body responded to her touch made it clear he didn’t think of her in a motherly way. At all.
He needed to stop this before it went too far and he did something she would truly have a reason to hate him for.
Slipping his hand out from under hers was one of the most difficult things he’d ever done, but he did so and offered a smile.
“After he died, I went back to using my left hand. My penmanship is now legible if not a bit smudged, and I don’t spill nearly as much of my dinner on my lap.”
She smiled and he could see the kindness in her eyes. That she would allow him to brush off the uncomfortable situation with a jest was greatly appreciated.
Strangely it wasn’t as uncomfortable as he expected. Being with her felt freeing in a way he’d never experienced with another person.
He puzzled over it as they fell in companionable silence while finishing their meals.
One theory was that he had nothing to gain in winning over the irksome miss. But he knew immediately that didn’t fit. He cared. He cared a great deal what she thought of him.
Perhaps it was that her expectations of him were already low or non-existent that the pressure to dazzle her was just as low. But again, that didn’t feel right. He wanted to dazzle her, he just wanted to do so by being himself instead of the jester he normally played to win the affection of the ton.
He choked on a bite of parsnip.
He’d known he liked her. He had wanted her to like him. He hadn’t realized he needed her to like the real Julian.
Dear God, what a disappointment he’d set for himself.