An Earls Guide to Insulting a Lady – By Cecilia Rene
AN EARL'S GUIDE TO INSULTING A LADY
BY CECILIA RENE
It was a truth universally acknowledged, that a single woman with no fortune must be in want of a husband. Or so every single relative of Eliza Lockhart believed.
Combing her thick dark tresses back, Eliza stared into the large mirror as she stood in the elaborately decorated room that she was staying in at Pemberley. The light green curtains and white canopy bed with the adjoining sitting room were far grander than any bedchamber she had ever had.
Being the daughter of a vicar, she was accustomed to humble accommodations. Her father’s income was far less than others of his station simply because he was a man of color. Still, a vicar’s wealth was nothing compared to a gentleman’s.
Eliza always felt out of place when they visited her mother’s two eldest sisters. Her aunts Jane and Lizzy had both married exceedingly wealthy men. A fact her grandmother still boasted about daily to anyone who would listen.
Now well into her sixtieth year of life, the matriarch of the Bennet family primary goal was to ensure that all her granddaughters were married—a goal that Eliza herself did not agree with.
The massive estate of Pemberley sat on lush green grounds surrounded by a river and green hills.
It was far more luxurious than anything Eliza had ever experienced in all of her twenty years of life.
She could admit that she loved visiting her cousins, riding and running outdoors like she didn’t have a care in the world.
Her mother, Mary, was the third daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Bennet. She had not come from such grand origins. Her father was a mere country gentleman with no heir, but her two eldest sisters had married exceedingly well.
Eliza’s father, John, was born in Jamaica, the son of a white gentleman and a freedwoman of color. He was educated at Oxford, where he graduated with honors.
Her parents met when her father accepted a position as a curate in Meryton. Eliza was always grateful that her parents found each other. Both had been ignored by their families. It was no wonder that they found what they were missing in each other.
“Are you not ready yet?” Jane, her cousin, barged into Eliza’s room.
Her dark silky hair was up in an elaborate hairstyle, as large demanding eyes glared at Eliza.
She ignored her cousin, who was a few inches taller than her.
Deciding to finish up her on hair, Eliza turned away from the demanding Jane.
Sometimes, she longed to wear her hair in the latest fashions like her cousins, but it was one thing her parents would not allow.
It didn’t matter that Eliza was entirely too young for such a stifling hairstyle.
The only thing that mattered to her pious parents was propriety.
“I’ll be down shortly. Could you close the door?” she asked, brushing her long thick curls over her shoulder.
“I wish you would hurry. The earl and the duke will be waiting.” Jane stood behind Eliza with a perfect eyebrow arched. Jane’s pert nose and delicate features were nearly identical to her mother, Lizzy’s.
Eliza couldn’t help but stiffen at the mention of the earl. Since the moment he’d arrived, the Earl of Wentmore had done nothing but infuriate her. He was arrogant, entitled, and annoyingly accurate in his observations.
She loathed the man, with his ridiculous chiseled jaw, tall stature, blonde hair, and green eyes that made her feel as if they were undressing her with every unnerving gaze.
The duke, however, was surprisingly pleasing and amenable. He was going to make a wonderful husband to a willing young lady, her cousin Jane perhaps.
The duke was the earl’s closest friend. The two appeared to be more like brothers. It was shocking to Eliza, as the two were so vastly different in countenance.
“Why won’t you allow my maid to do your hair? It’s so beautiful, Eliza, it’s a shame to pin it up in a boring bun.” Jane twirled her own perfectly dark curl. “I wish I had such thick, beautiful hair.”
She laughed at her cousin, turning to face the other woman. For years, Eliza had wished she had more manageable hair. She supposed that someone always wished for something more.
“Trust me, you would not want the trouble,” she said, slowly brushing the ends of her hair, careful not to pull.
A throat cleared in the opened door, and both ladies jumped in shock. Eliza’s gaze was suddenly captured in the intense wide-eyed stare of the Earl of Wentmore.
Her limbs were frozen in place, and the erratic pounding of her heart threatened to be her undoing. Eliza wet her dry lips, trying to form words, but none would come.
In all her life, she had never had her hair free of its constrictive bun in front of a man. Both her parents were devout individuals and would never allow such impropriety.
“My lord, we did not see you,” Jane said.
Jane rushed over to the door, blocking Eliza’s view of the earl. Disappointment swirled low in her abdomen. She couldn’t help but to notice how the dark green waistcoat he was wearing magnified his forest green eyes.
“Forgive me. I did not mean to intrude.” His deep voice carried over to Eliza, and she tried to ignore the shiver that ran through her.
This had been the same reaction to him since their first meeting nearly a fortnight ago, but unfortunately, he was a complete and total arse. He was also an earl, and Eliza was practically engaged to her cousin Thomas Collins, or at least that was what her parents and grandmother wanted.
“No, it’s my fault, really. I forgot to close Eliza’s door,” Jane replied cheerily.
Choosing to ignore the conversation at her door, Eliza twisted her hair into her usual neat bun, pinning it in place. She admired her reflection in the mirror. The two strands of hair framing her face were the only liberties her parents would allow.
Walking to stand beside her cousin at the door, Eliza plastered a smile on her face as she avoided the intense gaze of the earl.
“Shall we go?” she asked.
“I’d be honored if you both would allow me to escort you to the party.” The earl offered Jane his arm.
“Actually, you two go ahead. I just remembered I forgot something. I’ll meet you there,” Jane rushed out her words, before leaving Eliza standing in front of her open door with the earl.
Eliza ignored her anger at Jane. She knew very well that her cousin did not forget anything in her rooms. Jane had a ridiculous idea that the earl actually favored Eliza. How absolutely preposterous.
“Shall we?” he asked, extending his left hand down toward the hall.
Eliza exhaled with a forced smile of politeness on her lips. “Of course.” Wrapping her arm around his, she allowed the earl to lead her down the long hallway.
Closing her eyes, she did everything in her power to ignore the heat of his body, the delicious yet manly smell of bergamot, and the constant flutter in her belly that felt like a thunderstorm was brewing inside of her.
“She’s correct, you know.” The earl’s deep voice washed over Eliza like a gentle breeze, cool and inviting.
Her eyes slammed open as she turned to face him. “What?”
“Miss Darcy is correct.” He stopped, green eyes boring into her very soul.
“Correct about what?” she asked, confusion swirling in her mind.
It was hard for her to think around him. Once she was back home in Plymouth, she would be herself again. Eliza would also be engaged to the most sober man she had ever met.
“Your hair is too beautiful to be in such an unflattering style?—”
“Unflattering?” Eliza released his arm, folding her own to glare at him.
For someone so devilishly handsome, he was the rudest person she had ever met.
This wasn’t the first time he’d insulted her.
The first time was their first night at Pemberley to celebrate her Uncle Darcy’s fiftieth birthday.
The earl told her that her gown was lovely, even if it was a dull shade of green.
“I did not mean it as an insult.”
“Really? How do you suggest I take such a statement, my lord?” Tilting her head, Eliza waited for his answer.
The earl ran his fingers through his blonde hair, officially causing disarray to the perfect strands. “Must you combat me on every topic?”
“Yes, I must, especially when you insist on insulting me at every opportunity,” she said, staring up at him.
His height annoyed her. The fire in his green eyes made her blood boil. She wanted nothing more than to take that condescending smile off his handsome face.
“It wasn’t an insult.” He stepped closer to her, the fabric of his coat brushing against her bosom. “I only meant that you’re far too beautiful for such an unforgiving hairstyle.” He wrapped his finger around one of the long tresses that framed her face.
Eliza’s lips parted, her breathing shallow as she stared into deep green eyes that felt more like home than any place she’d ever lived.
Unforgiving?
Taking a step back, she shook her head, trying to free herself of the spell he had surely cast on her. This was the Earl of Wentmore, not a dashing gentleman who would do anything to prove his love.
Eliza did the only thing she could do at that moment.
She fled down the hall, passing likenesses of queens and kings, expensive vases and statues.
This was her cousin’s world, not hers, and the earl would surely want a lady like Jane or her other cousin Beth Bingley, who constantly fluttered her long blonde eyelashes at him.
“Miss Lockhart, wait,” the earl called after her, but she dared not stop.
Reaching the long staircase, she rushed down, needing to be free of him and the conflicting emotions he stirred inside of her.
A hand grasped her gloved one, stopping her retreat. “Eliza, please.”
She faced him, anger radiating through her. “What? What do you want from me, my lord?”
“Whatever you are willing to give,” he whispered, stepping toward her.
She couldn’t breathe, nor form a single thought. This couldn’t be happening.