An Earls Guide to Insulting a Lady – By Cecilia Rene #2
“There you are,” her mother’s solemn voice called out, causing Eliza to startle in shock. “Your father and Mr. Philip Collins are waiting.” Her mother’s gaze flicked from Eliza to the earl.
“Mr. Collins is here?” she asked in shock. Surely he had not traveled from Longbourn to see her.
Her palms began to sweat, her body trembling with panic. She thought there would be more time for her to form a plan on how to tell her parents that she would not marry Philip Collins.
Knowing that her parents only wanted what was best for her, did nothing to soothe her worry. In their opinion, the best was a husband, any husband. But she wanted to marry for love, for passion, not convenience or to be the mistress of the families long lost estate.
Phillip Collins’s father, Mr. Collins was her late grandfather’s heir and upon his death had inherited the estate of Longbourn, to her grandmother’s condemnation.
“Yes. Come along, Eliza,” her mother said in a tone that was not to be trifled with.
Swallowing, her gaze locked on the earl who still stood too close for propriety’s sake.
“Excuse me, my lord,” she said before she walked to her mother with a heavy heart.
Eliza didn’t know why suddenly she felt a longing to be near the one man who vexed her beyond measure, the Earl of Wentmore.
Bloody hell.
He was going mad. That was the only explanation as to why Peregrine Hubert Fitzwilliam, the eighth Earl of Wentmore, would possibly tell the one woman who loathed him beyond reproach that she was beautiful—even with her unflattering hair style.
But dear God, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in all of his twenty-eight years of life, and her hairstyle was indeed unworthy of such beauty.
Unlike his closest friend, the Duke of Woodmere, Perry did not possess a single flirtatious bone in his body. Flattery did not come easy for him.
From the moment Eliza Lockhart arrived at the lavish but small estate of Pemberley, Perry was captured by her beauty.
Enraptured by her candor and wit, but most of all, it was her caring heart that had chipped away pieces of his armor.
So much that he apparently couldn’t stop himself from insulting her.
“Where have you been? I need you for protection from Mrs. Bennet,” Woodmere said, a frightened look on his face.
Perry laughed at his friend, walking toward the open door that led to the gardens. It was a rare warm day in November, and Perry couldn’t help but to long for the outdoors.
Mrs. Bennet was his second cousin, Darcy’s mother-in-law, and the woman was hell bent on marrying both Perry and Woodmere to one of her beloved granddaughters. Well, specifically Miss Darcy and Miss Bingley; she never pushed either one of them to Miss Lockhart, whose beauty outshined them all.
“You’re a duke. Surely you do not need me to protect you from an old woman.” He shook his head at the look of pure terror on his friend’s face.
“I do when you are related to her,” he whispered, leaning toward Perry and away from the room, where the guests were gathered.
The guests were gathered in the conservatory that overlooked the Pemberley gardens. It was a small, intimate affair of around twenty people to celebrate his cousin. A table laden with all manner of delicious cuisine sat against the wall.
He did envy Darcy. Though the other man had no title, he had a family, an heir, two daughters, and a wife that he obviously cared for.
Theirs wasn’t an outward display of affection like the Darcy’s close friend Charles Bingley and his wife Jane, with their knowing smiles and caresses.
No, Darcy and his wife, Elizabeth–who insisted Perry call her Lizzy—were more muted with their affections, but it was obvious that they were a true love match.
The party was one of many activities that had been planned to celebrate Darcy’s birth. Everything would culminate with a grand ball in his honor the following day.
Perry was more than ready to return to his own home without a wife.
It had been his uncle, Colonel Fitzwilliam’s, grand scheme, that he should find a wife amongst his cousins’ family.
He went along with it, knowing that his uncle, and closest remaining relative, meant well, but really marrying one’s cousin was an ancient custom in Perry’s opinion.
“I must warn you there is another cousin,” Woodmere said.
“Really? I suppose it can’t be helped with Mrs. Bennet having five daughters.” Perry stood beside his friend, looking around for the additional cousin.
“Unfortunately, this one isn’t pretty like the last.” Woodmere leaned closer to Perry. “Miss Lockhart, however, is exceptionally pleasing to look at,” he whispered, turning his head to view over his shoulder.
Perry stiffened. He was greatly aware that his oldest and dearest friend found Eliza Lockhart desirable, but to hear Woodmere speak of her in such a way sent anger searing through his veins.
There was no claim of mutual affection, or any hint that she could even tolerate Perry for long periods of time; still it did not stop him from dreaming of her.
“Lord Wentmore!” Perry’s body bristled at the shrill voice of Mrs. Bennet. “There you are at last! Our Beth was just asking after you,” Mrs. Bennet called, pulling her granddaughter through the small crowd at the speed of someone much younger than she was.
“Mrs. Bennet, Miss Bingley.” Perry bowed his head at the pair. “How lovely to see you both. Are you enjoying the party?”
“Beth was just saying how dull it was without you. Isn’t that right, dear?” Mrs. Bennet asked the quiet Beth, who stood wide-eyed staring at Perry.
She was quite beautiful, to be sure, but her mild manner and quiet demeanor weren’t what Perry wanted in a wife. He wanted fire, passion, someone to tell him that he was being an unmitigated arse. Someone with light brown skin and fire in her eyes.
However, Perry doubted that Eliza Lockhart would ever choose him to spend the rest of her life with. As for him, he would spend his every waking breath wishing that she were his.
“Y-yes.” Beth’s head swiveled around the room, avoiding eye contact with Perry.
From the moment he met the quiet but beautiful Beth Bingley, he knew that she was not the woman for him.
His uncle had originally wanted Perry to meet his cousin, Jane Darcy, and form a union, but on meeting Jane, it was clear that she was much like a sister to Perry. It was strange how instantly he knew that he would do anything to protect and care for her.
Born an only child, alone with just his parents and occasionally his uncle for company, Perry did not know the joys and pains of having siblings until he met Jane Darcy.
Though he knew of his father’s cousin, Darcy, Perry had never been close to the older man and had not met him or his lively family before.
The years had passed swiftly, with school and responsibilities.
His father becoming ill catapulted Perry’s life in ways he was not prepared for.
Suddenly, he found himself the earl with a mountain of responsibilities, tenants, and his mother to care for.
Although his uncle, Colonel Fitzwilliam, was his own man, Perry still had some responsibility to him as head of the family.
Perry waited for Miss Bingley to add more to the conversation, but after an uncomfortable amount of silence, she still hadn’t said anything further.
His gaze flicked around the room, and found a rigid-looking Eliza standing between her parents, speaking with a short, thin gentleman that Perry had never seen before.
This must be the other cousin Woodmere was speaking of.
“Have you heard the news?” Mrs. Bennet asked him, following his gaze to where her other granddaughter stood with her hands clenched.
“News?” Perry tilted his head in confusion.
“Yes! I’m very excited that soon one of my granddaughters will be mistress of Longbourn,” she said, her gaze lingering on Eliza and the gentleman.
Perry stiffened, taking note of how close the stranger was to her.
“When Mr. Bennet passed, Mr. Collins and Charlotte moved in less than a month after his death, not giving me any time to mourn.” She shook her head adamantly. “My only hope is that I will be alive when Mr. Collins finally leaves this world and Eliza becomes mistress of Longbourn.”
Perry whipped his head to Mrs. Bennet, praying that surely she was mistaken. “You mean Miss Lockhart is to be married?”
The older woman bounced up and down like a debutante, unable to hide her excitement. “Yes! We expect a proposal any day now. It is an excellent match for our Eliza, wouldn’t you agree, my lord?”
Perry’s hand closed into a tight fist as a shiver raced down his spine.
Married?
Eliza Lockhart was to be married. Of course she was. What man could resist her with her beauty, wit, and charm? She was everything that any gentleman would want in a wife.
Pulling at his cravat, Perry tried to breathe, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. He had lost her before he could confess his true feelings.
It was official. He was going mad.
A soft body brushed against his, the scent of citrus and rose water awakening him as it had done the first time he was near Eliza Lockhart. He was jostled out of his thoughts by Eliza, who had brushed against him as she passed.
“Pardon me, my lord,” she said, her voice filled with pain.
Perry’s leg bounced, his body filled with energy to go after her and beg her not to marry the ridiculous man next to her parents. It wasn’t this Mr. Collins fault that, from the moment Perry laid eyes on Eliza, his heart and soul belonged to her.
If only he could say those words to the object of his affection without insulting her.
“I do hope Eliza is well, Grandmother,” Miss Bingley said with concern in her voice.
“Oh, she’s fine!” Mrs. Bennet waved her hand in the air. “You’ll soon discover the nerves associated with a proposal. Don’t you agree, Lord Wentmore?” The elder woman fluttered her eyelashes at him.