Chapter 26

Lucian had come in here to read with the excuse to himself that it was too quiet in the library and there was very little work for him to attend to, when in truth, he simply wanted to be where Eliza was.

It was useless to fight the draw to her that had him reevaluating his opinion of his future and wondered what life would be like if Eliza lived here permanently.

Certainly, after she searched the remainder of the caves and the mine, and found nothing, she would cease her quest and maybe become more settled. Except, did he really want her as such? Eliza would not be content to live at an estate, with few visits to London. But could he offer enough adventure to keep her happy?

Would children provide the same fullness of life that she had been enjoying most of her adult life?

With her imagination, no doubt she would entertain them with stories every day and would likely take them on adventures about the estate, and find dragons and fairies, and villains, and likely knights in a cave. But would it be enough for her?

Would he be enough for her?

He certainly cared for her, but Lucian was afraid to fully examine what those emotions were. Yes, she was a frustration and an irritant, and the complete opposite of him as she acted before thinking matters through while he always proceeded with caution.

She was life and he was silence. He’d watched her in ballrooms and Eliza was known by nearly everyone and often engaged them in conversation, moving from one group to another whereas Lucian, when required to attend a ball, remained away from the crowd, a male wallflower. She could be surrounded by others and enjoy every moment whereas when there were too many people about, Lucian experienced nothing but anxiety, which left him not as confident and he evaluated every word that he spoke. There was never any hesitation in her words when Eliza engaged in conversation.

He was being a fool. A woman like Eliza would never be happy with him. She simply had not realized it or she would not kiss him.

Lucian bit back a groan. Her kisses were dangerous indeed. They ignited a flame in him that burned brightly each time their lips touched and was never fully extinguished even when they were apart.

There was also an intensity about her, even right now as she worked diligently on her manuscript, white teeth biting a bottom lip, the scratch of the quill tip on parchment. Only when she began to lift her head did he concentrate on the book because Lucian did not want Eliza to catch him watching her.

Beauty, desire, intelligence, passion, and so much more was Eliza Weston and Lucian was afraid that he may have fallen in love with her.

When the bloody hell had that happened?

Had it been during that first visit when she had been eighteen and he had been two and twenty? No other woman had appealed to him since. At least, not in a way that made him consider a potential courtship.

Or had it only been infatuation and desire then, but became love since she’d arrived to take up residence in Greenhaven Cottage?

What did he even know about love and how could he tell if that was what he was experiencing?

He had never loved anyone, at least not the type that a man feels for a woman instead of the love for family, so how did he even know if what he suspected was true?

There could also be other reasons he was drawn to her, though he could think of none of them at the moment other than what he had already acknowledged to himself.

Did it really matter? He wanted her and despite the aggravation that he might suffer in the future, Lucian did not want Eliza to leave and the only way that he could convince her to stay was if they were married.

Bloody hell!

Blowing out a sigh he took his eyes away from her and concentrated on the book. He needed to cleanse his mind of Eliza and what he wanted and escape into one of her horrid stories.

While settings were different, as well as the names, there was a familiarity to each. They all had a heroine and hero, and villain. And one character was always a grumpy earl…bloody hell!

Lucian thought over her books and realized that each story contained a grumpy auburn-haired earl, living alone in his castle, or keep, or manor. Sometimes he was the villain and sometimes the hero, but he was always a recluse that allowed no visitors and was angry when the heroine trespassed, or found her way to the castle, palace, keep, or whatever the setting, though each time it was for a different reason.

“You are frowning.”

Lucian glanced up from the book and stared at Eliza. Did she truly see him as a grumpy old earl? Was that how everyone saw him?

“Is there something that you do not like about the story?” she asked.

“Not just this one, Eliza.” He closed the book and set it aside. “Am I a recurring character in each of your books?”

When the hue of her cheeks deepened to a red, Lucian had his answer. Now he just needed to decide if he was going to be angry about her portrayal or change Eliza’s mind as to how she viewed him.

Eliza glanced away and dipped her quill in the inkpot. “Why would you think such?”

“The grumpy auburn-haired earl, living alone who doesn’t allow visitors and becomes angry when the heroine trespasses. That character.”

Her face grew even hotter. It wasn’t until her fifth story that Eliza realized that she had made Lucian a character. She could have stopped adding him to stories, whether hero or villain, but he always found a way onto the pages, a recurring character with a different name and purpose, but there, nonetheless. Oddly, nobody had ever commented until now. But did she admit to Lucian that the character was based on him?

Did it do any good to deny that fact?

“Is that how you see me? Grumpy?”

“Sometimes,” she admitted while she tried not to smile. “Disagreeable, autocratic, and difficult would be other descriptions,” Eliza admitted.

“I am surprised that I am not made the villain more often,” he grumbled.

“I do apologize,” she finally said. “I honestly had not realized that you were an inspiration, but apparently, my previous visit to Wyndhill Park certainly motivated a certain character.” This time she didn’t attempt to hide her grin.

“Yes, well, did it ever occur to you that the person you used for your muse might be insulted?”

He set his cup in the saucer then stood before he stomped from the parlor.

Goodness! Eliza had not meant to upset him. She truly hadn’t and now Lucian was angry.

With a deep sigh, she set her quill aside and rose to go after him, except Lucian had not gone to his library, nor was he located anywhere else in the manor.

“Where is Lord Garretson?” she finally asked the butler.

“He has gone to the stables. I believe he wished to ride.”

“In the rain?” How angry was he?

“He has done so before,” the butler answered calmly. “It is not a storm, but a light rain.”

She supposed he was correct, but Eliza would not be able to relax until Lucian returned and she apologized even though she was not sorry for including him in every story.

Though she attempted to return to her manuscript, concentration was impossible, so she set her work aside and wandered the manor for something to occupy her mind and found nothing.

Not even Stella was available to keep her company and Eliza found herself at a loss for what to do and her anxiety only grew with each hour that passed.

Where had he gone? Why hadn’t Lucian returned? Had he fallen from his horse and was injured?

Two hours was far too long, or so she assumed.

Worse, the rain had not let up and remained steady, which only added to her dark mood.

With a sigh, she climbed the stairs, not certain what she would do up there, but hoped that she would find something to distract her since she could not walk outside.

Once she reached the sitting room, Eliza entered and walked to the window and stared out over the landscape. Where was he and why hadn’t he returned? Worse, why wasn’t anyone else concerned?