The Rogue She Loved by Ella Edon
Chapter Six
The headache, when Stephan woke was so sharp and violent that he had a good mind to cancel any activities he had planned for the day and accept that he could not venture far beyond his bed for the next two dozen hours. Of course, he was the Earl of Chester and that meant he could not afford to make such a decision. Not when so many people relied on him for their welfare, his sister most of all.
He sat up and tilted his neck until he heard a soft click. His head throbbed and the metallic pang of residual brandy made his tongue dry and bitter. As he leaned forward, the memories from the night before began to trickle back to his mind. There had been a woman. He could still feel her touch on his arm, soft and gentle. He could still smell her scent; sweet as bergamot and twice as alluring. He reached immediately for his money purse. It was still full. Strange. How could a courtesan so beautiful have left without her full pay?
He scratched his chin. Maybe she wasn’t a courtesan. After all, he was still fully clothed and his bed did not bear the marks of a tangle in the sheets. He had slept alone, that much was clear. Were it not for the lingering hint of her perfume, Stephan would have been sure that he there had never been a woman at all. That it had all been some trick of his drunken imagination. But the scent was still there; sweet and thick as honey. Her face was so clear in his mind; arched brows, an elegant nose and thick, full lips. Lips to make a man dream. She was real. He only needed to remember where on earth he had seen her. Was it at Whitman’s? The women at Whitman’s were certainly all lovely but none approaching the face that stuck in his head. She did not have the frippery or manner of a courtesan.
He let out a long breath. There was no use of it. She was likely never to return. A face confined to the annals of his mind.
A knock sounded at his door.
“Who is it?”
Mr. Clarkson’s thick voice answered. “Good morning, my Lord, it is Mr. Clarkson.”
Stephan sighed and arched his back in a stretch. “You can come in.”
Mr. Clarkson entered with a tray carrying a teapot and cup. “I thought you might need some coffee this morning, my Lord, you were quite… indisposed last night.”
Stephan laughed as Clarkson set the tray done. “Thank you, Mr. Clarkson.”
Clarkson bowed. “Breakfast will be ready in an hour my Lord, should I inform you once it is served.”
Stephan shook his head. “Not to worry, Mr. Clarkson, have a hot bath drawn for me and I will be down in an hour or so.”
“Yes my Lord.”
Stephan sipped coffee from his cup as he proceeded to prepare for the day.
His bath was hot and balmy when he entered. He set his cup of coffee aside as he allowed himself to be rejuvenated by the swishing waters. He imagined as he lay in the copper tub how delightful it would be if the woman from his memory were to join him in the tub. Their bodies close in the warmth. He allowed himself a smile as he let his head fall back.
When the bathing was done, he dressed himself in white linens cut off at the sleeve, with a white cravat about his neck. He knew his sister would not be pleased to learn of his drunken escapade from the night before and that it would be best for him if he looked every inch the Earl of Chester to soften her reprimand. Had he shown up as dishevelled as he had been when he awoke, the censure would have been unbearable.
Stephan stepped into the breakfast room just before breakfast was to be served. The clerestory windows let in a buoyant beam of morning light and the birds sang in full voice from the sill outside.
His sister Amy stood with hands clasped about the navel staring at him with eyes narrowed in severe concentration. That look was as good as a foretelling of a serious reprimand.
He gave her a well-practiced look. It was a look he kept for when he wanted to give people the impression of deep supplication without seeming too needy. He sealed her forgiveness with a smile and she shook her head ruefully as she reluctantly smiled back.
Only then did he notice that there was someone behind her. A woman, faced away from him and staring out the window.
“Good morning, dear brother,” Amy said with a rueful smile. “I’d like you to introduce you to my dearest friend. Lady Elise Hammington. Remember I mentioned that we would be hosting her for three weeks?”
At the introduction, the woman turned in a slow pirouette. “A pleasure to meet you, Lord Andrews,” she said with a knowing smile.
Stephan could do nothing but stare. It was her. The woman from the night before. Seeing her now in the light of day, it occurred to him that his memory had done no justice to her face. She was, in a word, unparalleled. In the gleam of the sun, she looked an angel under halo; her skin radiant and her eyes bright and affecting.
He realised he had gone too long without giving a response and quickly inclined his head. “A pleasure to meet you too, Lady Hammington.”
“I hope you had a restful night,” she said with a troublesome gleam in her eyes.
She was mocking him and he suddenly knew why. The memory of the night before came streaming back to the fullness of mind. She had found him drunk in the library, stumbling like a village oaf and helped him up to bed. Now she was mocking him about it, as no one knew but the two of them. So many times he had been the progenitor of the exact same sort of mockery but rarely ever had he been on the receiving end. He found himself smiling.
“It was very restful indeed,” he said.
She almost laughed. “Good. I have heard in large houses you do sometimes hear strange sounds in the night.”
Stephan nearly choked. Her energy was beyond infectious and his heart had set to a vibrant beat from the first sight of her.
The arrival of Mr. Clarkson with four tureen carrying servants announced that breakfast was to be served.
The tureens were uncovered to reveal steaming plates of eggs, bacon, kidneys, mushroom and kedgeree.
“Breakfast is served,” Mr. Clarkson announced with a bow.
“Thank you, Clarkson,” Stephan said.
He took up the seat directly opposite Lady Hammington, hoping to catch her eye over breakfast but she did not look up at him once, even when it seemed impossible not to meet his eye. It was irritating and yet it only made him more interested in her. So committed was he to catching her eye that he almost didn’t realise that his sister had asked him a question.
He turned to her and blinked. “I beg your pardon Amy, could you repeat your question?”
“I asked about your evening. Mr. Clarkson informed me that you returned late and were quite indisposed last night.”
Stephan winced. This was the last conversation he wanted to have in the presence of Lady Hammington. Eliminating all reminders of the episode last night was his most earnest desire. “Well, I did have a little to drink, yes.”
Amy raised an eyebrow. “A little dear brother? I could still smell the liquor in the corridor this morning.”
Stephan blinked and pinched the bride of his nose. “Perhaps it was more than a little.”
Amy smiled. “Were you out alone?”
Stephan shook his head. “No, I was with Matthew.”
“Thank heavens, goodness knows how bad it could have become otherwise.”
“Amy, I appreciate your good intentions, but I think that’s quite enough.”
She lowered her head. “I’m sorry Stephan. I was just so worried about you.”
“You needn’t be.”
“With everything that happened with–”
“You needn’t worry Amy,” he said, cutting her off.
She nodded, seeming satisfied. “Well, if that is the case then I must make our request of you for tonight.”
He leaned back into the chair. “And what request might that be?”
“Elise and I will be attending a ball tonight at Lord Grenfell’s home in Regent’s Park. We will need a chaperone for the event, and I can think of none better than the Earl of Chester himself.”
Stephan gently dropped his fork and raised his chin. In truth he was not very fond of balls. Not only had a ball been the site of his most vicious heartbreak but they had also become very tedious. It was always the very same people with a rehearsal of conversations which took place in parties from just days before. Stephan had long since found that people of intriguing character and spirit were far more likely to be found at the gentlemen’s clubs than at the parties of the Ton where the general trend was to expect fraternity with odious busybodies who were almost always violently opinionated and barely ever attentive. However, it did not pass his notice that a ball was an excellent opportunity to get to know Lady Hammington better and he had resolved in his mind that he certainly did want to get to know her better. She was, in some ways, far too serious for Stephan’s taste but there was something about her that he simply could not help but being intrigued by.
“A ball you say, at Lord Grenfell’s home?”
“Yes, brother.”
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “It will be my pleasure to escort you both.”
Again he tried to meet Lady Hammington’s eyes, but she gave him no opportunity. He smiled to himself. So it begins.
