Chapter Fifteen

James ran one hand over his face and groaned aloud. He did not know what was wrong with him but these business matters were struggling to garner his attention. He never had endured trouble like this before, had never fought for concentration in the manner he was doing now. It was not as though there was a great deal for him to sort through either! There were only some invitations, a note or two from his solicitors and a letter from his mother. Why could he not find the energy to open them and read them? Why was his mind pulling him in another direction?

Letting out another groan, James got to his feet and, walking across the room, poured himself a brandy. It was late afternoon and James would soon have to begin his preparations for the evening but for the moment, it seemed as though he could do nothing. Over and over, his thoughts returned to the waltz he had shared with Lady Newton the previous evening and time and again, he chased those thoughts away.

But that did not seem to matter. No matter how many times he dismissed them, they returned with a fierceness which startled him. He wanted to forget those strange feelings which had arisen within him as he had looked down into Lady Newton's eyes but he simply could not. They clung to him with a doggedness which he could not turn away from and which frightened him rather than offering him any sense of happiness.

I cannot find myself having any sort of interest in my betrothed, he told himself, throwing back his brandy before pouring another. That would be nothing but foolishness.

The ball last evening had not been a pleasant one, at least not to his mind. There had been Lord Childers first of all, though James had managed to sign his own name to Lady Newton's dance card at least. Thereafter, there had come such a string of gentlemen all eager for Lady Newton's dance card, he had barely been able to contain himself – though, again, he did not know the reason for his sense of irritation. This was exactly what he wanted, exactly what they had planned and that meant it could only be a good thing.

So why do I find myself so frustrated? Why am I so irritated about it all?

Scowling, James poured himself another brandy, not certain what it was that troubled him. Looking down into Lady Newton's eyes had certainly made him aware that she was very desirable, but that was something that he had dealt with before, was it not? He had found many a young lady beautiful, had found himself eager to wrap his arms around her waist and steal a kiss or two so what was the difference here? Yes, he was betrothed to her and yes, they were pretending that all was well and there would soon be a marriage between them, but that was soon to come to an end, was it not? Therefore, he could simply look at Lady Newton as he did every other young lady he found desirable, could he not?

Taking yet another brandy, James threw it back without hesitation and then marched back to his study desk. Sitting down, he picked up his quill, prepared to write his response to the first invitation he opened. All he had to do was remember that he could treat Lady Newton just as any other young lady and all would be well.

***

"Might I suggest that you refrain?"

James frowned, looking to Lord Radford. "I beg your pardon?"

"Refrain," Lord Radford said, keeping his voice low as he moved around so as to block the sight of James from the rest of the guests at the soiree. "You have imbibed a larger amount of brandy than usual and your demeanour is not at all pleasant."

Rolling his eyes, James set down his empty glass and shrugged his shoulders. "There now, does that satisfy you?"

Lord Radford nodded. "I thank you."

"There is no requirement for you to stand and watch over me, however," James continued, aware that there was a slight blurring to his vision given the amount of liquor he had drunk. "I am not about to embarrass myself."

"Are you sure about that?" Lord Radford lifted an eyebrow and then shook his head. "You are certainly a little different this evening from how you normally behave. You are glowering at everyone, including the young ladies that are smiling at you in the hope of catching your attention. Instead, you stand at the back of the drawing room, hiding in the shadows and drinking Lord Simmons' best brandy."

James shrugged, hating that his friend had noticed his inward struggles. "I am not particularly in the right frame for a soiree."

"Then why are you here?"

With a shrug, James reached for his empty glass, only to set it down again as his friend narrowed his eyes. "Very well, mayhap a few moments out in the gardens will clear my mind and bring a contentment back to my heart."

Without waiting for his friend to remark upon this thought, James turned away quickly and strode out of the drawing room, making his way to the gardens. Lord Simmons had a somewhat small but pretty outlook and as he stepped outside, James appreciated the candle lights which lit up the space. It was not a particularly dark evening and he could see almost everything clearly, though it was something of a struggle to make out the faces of the other guests who had also come outside. Folding his arms over his chest, James surveyed the scene around him and let out a small sigh before turning away, making his way to the left of the gardens rather than remaining where he was with the small, gathered crowd. His jaw jutted forward and his brows hung low over his eyes. Why was he so downhearted this evening? Surely it could not be his troubling thoughts on Lady Newton?! He had already set that to bed, had he not? He had managed to put her out of his mind and had, instead, set himself to the task of responding to the invitations and letters he had received. That done, he had then prepared for this very soiree, only to find that now, he was all the more irritated.

"Lord Granton? Is that you?"

James turned sharply, his breath catching in his chest as he saw a young lady coming towards him. He could not make out her features but in the fire's glow, he saw her figure was very comely indeed.

His toes curled.

"Yes, it is I." He narrowed his eyes just a little, trying to see her face clearly but still, he could not.

"Lord Radford and Miss Stockton are talking together just a little over there," the lady said, making James realise in an instant who it was that had come to seek him out. "He told me that you were here also though it has taken me some minutes to find you."

"And why are you doing so?" The words came out a little more sharply than he had intended them to be but he did not pull them back, keeping his arms folded tightly across his chest as though he was afraid that she would reach out to him and he would be helpless against even the smallest touch.

"I… I thought that we should be seen together at this soiree." Martha's voice was suddenly a little uncertain. "We are to keep up this pretence, are we not? Therefore, we must be seen together. To be at the very same soiree but not once in each other's company would make some of the ton question our connection, I am sure."

James shrugged, hating that his heart quickened just a little as Martha drew closer to him. "Or mayhap it will engage the gentlemen who are interested in furthering their connection with you all the more," he muttered, his jaw still tight. "They might see us separated and wonder at it."

Lady Newton said nothing though she did come closer to him, making James' skin prickle. He despised his response to her though he tried to remind himself that he was going to treat her just as any other young lady of his acquaintance. If he was drawn to her then it was just in the same way as he had been drawn to other young ladies. There was nothing of concern here.

"Is there something the matter?" Martha's voice had softened, becoming all the quieter as she came even closer to him. "You do seem to be – "

"I am quite all right." His voice seemed louder and darker in comparison to hers and James winced inwardly, dropping his arms to his sides. "I am just a little in my cups, that is all."

"Oh." Martha hesitated, then took another step towards him. "If you do not wish to be seen with me because you have intentions for another young lady, I would prefer that you were honest with me. It is not as though I do not know who you are or that your reputation is somehow hidden from me."

For whatever reason, this suggestion sent hot fire right through James' frame. It made him straighten, his whole body tightening as he reached out, grasping Martha's hand. "I am not waiting for some other young lady," he said, roughly, his eyes fixing to hers as he finally made out her features, seeing the way her eyes were wide as they looked back at him. "I have told you that I will appear to be committed to you and – "

" Appear to be, yes," Martha interrupted, with more tenacity than James had expected. "That is what I meant by my question. Here you are, in the dark of the gardens, making certain that very few people can see you and I wondered if it was for a purpose."

James scowled darkly. "It is for no other purpose than to hide myself away from the other guests for a few moments," he stated, his breathing coming a little more quickly now. "Does that content you?"

Lady Newton hesitated, then lifted her shoulders in a half shrug. "It shall have to," she answered, making James' anger burrow right down into his heart. "I shall leave you now."

"No." James' gritted his teeth, his hand still on hers as she attempted to turn away. "No, I do not want you to go, not when you clearly do not believe that I am telling the truth."

She did not tug her hand away but instead, moved nearer to him again. Her chin lifted, her eyes catching a flicker of light as she gazed up at him. "Why does it matter whether I believe you or not?"

The question was not something he could answer. There was no simple answer for him to give, no explanation that made any sense. He did not know why he wanted her to believe him, why he wanted her to trust what he said but that desire was within him, nonetheless.

"There is nothing here to concern you," she said, when he did not answer. "Please, do not think that I am judging you. I – I merely wanted to know."

James moved a fraction closer, looking down at her. "And why did you want to know? Why were you so desirous to know of my intentions?"

Martha's eyes flickered. "Because," she continued, her voice a little breathless now, "because I wanted to ascertain as to whether or not the ton were truly going to believe all that we say to them about our connection. If you were here to meet another young lady, then it would be reasonable to believe that the ton might then struggle to believe that, should they discover you."

"Mmm." Feeling his anger begin to fade, James wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her close to him, finding his desire beginning to grow, chasing away the last few tendrils of frustration. "I will not pretend, Lady Newton, that the connection between us forcing my abstinence from the things I enjoy has not been difficult. It has been very trying but mayhap you might be able to lessen that trial a little?"

He grinned when he heard her breath catch, delighting in the fact that she had not pushed herself away from him. He would not force her to remain here, of course, would not demand that she let him keep her wrapped in his arms, but for the moment she did not appear to be seeking even the smallest escape. James remained where he was for a moment and then began to lower his head, his breathing growing a little faster as he felt her soften against him, her hand no longer gripping his tightly.

His mouth was an inch from hers, a heavy longing beginning to burrow through him when she let out the smallest, briefest breath.

"No."

James halted, his ragged breathing uneven, his blood thundering through his veins, his heart filled with a desire which screamed at him to take what he so desperately wanted. "No?"

Martha stepped back from him and James, unwilling to keep her captured, let his hand fall from her waist though she did not immediately pull her hand from his.

She shook her head. "No, Lord Granton." With a small sigh, she looked back at him, her expression steady. "I will not be another plaything for you, I am afraid. I am sorry that you find this situation so very difficult, that you are without the usual distractions that you so very much enjoy but I will not let you use me to satisfy that." With another breath, she took her hand from his. "I will only ever let a gentleman who cares for me pursue me with such intentions, Lord Granton, and I am very well aware that you are not that sort of gentleman."

"I – I do care for you," he found himself saying, only for Lady Newton to laugh brokenly.

"Your pretty words will not capture me, I am afraid, as much as you may wish for them to do so. I am not at all inclined to believe you, though I am sure you can understand why that may be." Turning around, she began to make her way back to the others, leaving James to stand alone. "I do hope you will come to join me soon, Lord Granton, for we must make certain that the ton trust the picture we are painting for them, must we not?"

Her words echoed back towards him but James said nothing in response, finding himself stunned by the words which had just escaped from his mouth. He had told Lady Newton that he cared for her and though she had laughed at him, though she had chosen not to believe him, James found that those words came from a place deep within his heart and, therefore, were quite true.

I care for her?

Breathing hard, James pushed one hand through his hair, fighting for clarity. He could not have any sort of feeling for Lady Newton, could he? That would be preposterous, for that was the very thing that he had promised himself he would not feel. In believing that this was only a desire for a physical connection, he had pushed all other thoughts and suggestions aside, leaving him with only the shallow, meaningless desire.

But what now if it was something more? Something that he had never once permitted himself to even consider ? What if there was now a true consideration of her, a genuine swirl of affection that threatened to grow even bigger should he permit himself to accept it?

But I do not want to feel anything! With a loud groan, James squeezed his eyes closed and curled his hands into tight fists, panic beginning to overwhelm him. This was not what he wanted and this was certainly not the sort of thing he had ever felt before. He wanted it gone, wanted it to be removed from himself and, as he considered, James shook his head and set his jaw. That was what he would do – what he had to do. He had to get rid of whatever it was that had forced those words of care and consideration from his lips. It would be ripped apart, burned up and thrown away so he could return to the life he had enjoyed for so long.

Nothing was going to keep him from that.