4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

E arl Nicholas Craven fixated on the fire in the bedchamber that the Ockhams had assigned to him at their country home. He wasn’t certain it had been the best idea to attend at all, but he couldn’t insult his hosts now that he had arrived. The Viscountess Ockham was intimidating, even as young as she was. She’d surely see through any excuse he made to leave.

Nick avoided any event where there might be a chance of him seeing Eliza again. After what had passed between them, he had no desire to find himself in her presence ever again. He avoided the season in London, knowing that he couldn’t avoid her in ballrooms with the entire ton present .

He wasn’t aware that she had any association with Lord and Lady Ockham, and it had been years since he had seen his friend Ockham. The two had gotten into a bit of mischief from time to time when they were at Cambridge, and Ockham wished for Nick to attend the gathering to meet his wife. She was a lovely woman, and the pair were an obvious love match.

Nick rolled his eyes. Love. What a farce. If he hadn’t seen for himself how enamored Ockham and his wife were with each other, he’d say that love didn’t exist at all. It was certainly not in his future. He wasn’t certain he even cared to ever take a wife. Why bother saddling himself with a woman when he knew he’d never feel anything for her? What did he care about providing an heir? Surely there was some cousin or distant relative the title could pass to. They would be delighted to elevate themselves in society, and he would never have to suffer the agonizing notion of courtship.

He did that once and didn’t care to again. It wasn’t like he couldn’t have a woman in his bed anytime he wished. As a titled gentleman with ample funds, there wasn’t much he couldn’t have if he desired it. Other than love. Never that.

The love of his life rejected him and married another man. His father broke the news to him after he spent months pining for her, longing to see her and make her remember that she loved him. Even broken-hearted, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to fuck anyone else, which furthered the cruel madness that had become his life. He tried several times, paying for the company of a faceless woman, hoping to cure himself of the hold that the love of his life held on his heart and apparently his body.

It was the same thing every time. He would partake of a few drinks and then when he thought he had worked himself up enough to finally stick his cock in another woman’s mouth, cunt, or arse—he told himself he didn’t care which—he would back out at the last minute. Retreating to his rooms to fuck his own hand. Thinking about her. It was beyond pathetic, and he’d never live down the shame if anyone knew. He wasn’t certain what would cure him, but he longed for the day he would free himself from the torment.

Nick gritted his teeth and found he was beyond ready to find the nearest snifter of brandy.

He glanced at the clock on the mantle and decided he should make his way downstairs. His hostess said six sharp for his presence downstairs and he wouldn’t dream of facing her wrath should he arrive late.

Nick departed his chamber and descended the grand staircase until he reached the salon where others were gathering. The sun was setting on the horizon outside the glass doors, which led to a large terrace. There were several guests already mingling, and the low buzz of conversation could be heard as soon as he entered. Immediately spotting his hosts, he crossed the room to greet them.

“I am glad to see you are punctual, my lord,” the viscountess said.

Ockham pushed a glass of brandy into his hand, casting him an amused grin.

“Your husband has already informed me I shouldn’t cross you, my lady.”

She patted his arm. “I know you and my husband have been friends for many years. He speaks fondly of your days at university, and I even heard you spent some time together in Italy.”

Nick laughed heartily. “Those were fun times, indeed. Ockham wrote that he took you to see some of the places we visited.”

Lady Ockham looped her arms through her husband’s and looked up at him with nothing but love, and Nick was thankful she wasn’t looking at him to see how he rolled his eyes.

“That he did,” she said. “We visited for a year after we married, then returned home so we could have our son back here at home.”

“Congratulations to you both. I hope to meet him while I am here,” Nick said, taking a large swig of his drink.

“What about you, old man?” Ockham asked, slapping Nick on the back. “Surely you are thinking about leg shackling yourself in the near future?”

Nick choked on the second swig of brandy he took and patted his chest with his fist.

“I’m not so sure about that, old friend,” Nick said.

Lady Ockham clasped her hands together. “Oh, I’d be happy to give my opinions on the young ladies present at the party. Perhaps you shall meet someone while you are here.”

The woman was far too excited by the notion of matchmaking, and Nick shook his head in response. “That isn’t necessary. I have much to do with my estates, and a wife would just get in the way.”

Ockham audibly sucked in a large breath of air, and his wife cast her husband an annoyed sideways glance before refocusing her attention on him.

“That is the most bacon-brained thing I have ever heard,” she said before glancing at her husband again, “and I have heard some bacon-brained things.”

Based on the hard expression on her face, Nick wouldn’t dare to ask but chuckled to himself imagining what might have earned his friend such ire .

“Now, now, my love,” Ockham said, kissing his wife’s temple, “I’m sure what Craven means to say is just that he isn’t ready to take a wife yet. Give him just a bit of slack, my love, the man had his heart broken.”

“Ockham,” Nick ground out. “Don’t.” The last thing he wished to do was discuss the greatest heartbreak of his life in the middle of a country house party. Or ever.

The viscountess patted his arm, and pity washed over her expression. “I’m so sorry, my lord. I didn’t know. What happened?”

“She married someone else,” Nick said, downing the rest of his brandy. Ockham reached for the decanter and refilled Nick’s glass with a healthy pour, and he immediately downed that, too.

“Who is she?” Lady Ockham asked. “I shouldn’t like to associate with someone who would hurt my husband’s dear friend in such a way. You will find that we are quite loyal to our friends.”

“My love,” Ockham replied, saving Nick from having to answer. “He will never tell you. I tried to get it out of him over many drinks, and he won’t budge.”

Nick exhaled hard. “He’s right, my lady. I adore you already, but that pain is mine to carry, and that’s that.”

The viscountess huffed but didn’t press further. Although he wasn’t certain he’d be so fortunate for the entire fortnight.

“Very well,” she said. “I’m still going to think about which ladies might make a good match for you in case you change your mind.”

Ockham laughed. “My wife is nothing short of relentless.”

“I see that,” Nick deadpanned. He could only hope she’d get distracted with marrying off more willing guests and leave him be.

“My love,” she said, “we should greet some of our other guests.”

“Of course. Craven, you should mingle with the others, too. You haven’t been seen in society in a couple of years. It would do you some good.”

Nick nodded and watched his hosts move to another group of guests.

He reached for the decanter on the sideboard next to where he stood and refilled his glass. He turned around to see if he recognized any of the other guests in attendance so he might do as Ockham suggested and re-acquaint himself.

A pair of ladies entered the room, and he glanced at them from the side of his eye and then did a double take. His throat went dry, and his heart was in his throat.

If lightning had struck him where he stood, he would have been less jarred than by the woman he had fixed his gaze upon. No, surely it couldn’t be that the one person he never wished to encounter again had just entered the salon, where he would be unable to go unnoticed by her.

His entire body tensed and his hands formed tight fists. He groaned to himself, and his jaw clenched so hard that it hurt. His cock twitched as well, but he refused to give that even the faintest bit of attention. Eliza.

After the way things ended between them, fate must be playing a cruel joke or some kind of retribution for trapping him for an entire fortnight with her. Hadn’t he already suffered enough? He was a step away from being a monk, and there she was tempting and teasing him, reminding him of what he lost. What she stole from them both.

He found himself unable to look away from her, and he hated himself for it. She was even more beautiful than the last time he’d seen her, with a few loose curls of her caramel-colored hair framing her heart-shaped face. Her body appeared even more womanly, and it did nothing to ease the strain in his breeches, as well as the anger boiling beneath the surface.

Before he could force himself to look away, her eyes met his. She attempted to school her features, but her crystal blue eyes failed her. If the ire in her expression was any indication, the lady was just as unhappy to see him as he was to see her, which wasn’t at all surprising .

After what had occurred between them, he was certain she didn’t wish to be in his presence. The feeling was entirely mutual, but it would appear they were stuck. They would be forced together for an entire fortnight, required to put on airs and polite niceties for the benefit of the other guests.

Although he supposed it shouldn’t be difficult for her given her ability to trick and mislead others. Perhaps he might finally force her to explain herself. At least if he could leave the house party with matters resolved and the ability to fuck again, that would be a start. He’d certainly never love again.

He raised his glass to her with a tight smile, as if he toasted the wordless pact he’d made to move on from her, then took a healthy gulp.

She whispered something to the lady beside her and then started right for him. Hell and damnation. Nick wasn’t ready, as he hadn’t prepared for that moment. What would he even say to her? He hadn’t even imagined the situation because he never intended to subject himself to it. Part of him wanted an explanation in the hope of releasing himself from her hold, but the other part of him worried he might lose the other half of his soul hearing the words aloud. Suspecting she never loved him and hearing her say it were two different things entirely .

She held her chin high and didn’t take her eyes off his as she approached.

“Lord Craven,” she said, the disdain evident in her tone. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

He drained the remaining contents of his glass. It hardly seemed necessary for her to state the obvious.

“I’m sure you are just as delighted as I am about this revelation,” he said, matching her tone.

“Quite,” she spat. “I should have known that I couldn’t avoid your unwelcome presence forever.”

At least she kept her voice low, so perhaps they wouldn’t have their row where the entire room could bear witness. It was bad enough to live the shame, but he certainly didn’t wish the rest of society to know how lost he had been to the woman in front of him.

“The feeling is indeed mutual,” he returned, flashing her a tight, fake smile. He pretended to look around the room. “Where is your husband? Certainly he should keep an eye on you.”

She scoffed. “That’s low. Even for the likes of you and the very low standard one might hold you to. And not that it is any of your business, but I am here alone.”

“Oh, hoping to partake of a willing gentleman,” he said, waving his hand towards the other guests. “I’m sure there will be many options at a country house party for a light skirt such as yourself. Please don’t let me keep you.” He didn’t mean that in the slightest. The same as he couldn’t allow another woman in his bed, the idea of her fucking another man was far too much for him to handle. Knowing she had married and another man climbed on top of her made his skin crawl and was the source of his nightmares.

She stepped closer to him and lowered her voice even further, speaking through her teeth. “You are a cruel bastard. Stay away from me.” She turned on her heel and crossed the room to rejoin her friend.

How dare she treat him like he was the cruel one after what she had done? How she ran off and married someone else without a glance back or even a conversation with him? Nick had loved her more than he had ever believed possible. He would have destroyed the entire world and watched it burn if that would have been what was required to have her. He would have laid down his life for hers if the need had presented itself. And she went and married someone else. Then there she was, flaunting herself around at house parties without her husband, whomever the poor cuckold was, in tow.

“Nick, good to see you,” a familiar voice said, pulling him from his disdain for the frigid woman of his past.

“Onslow,” Nick said, “it’s been a long time.” Hudson Brooks, the Earl of Onslow, was another friend from his days at Cambridge .

“I heard you lost your father a while back,” Onslow said. “Please accept my condolences.”

“Same to you. I heard about your parents. I can’t imagine losing both at once,” Nick replied.

The man frowned. “Indeed. It’s been a few years now, but I have learnt to adjust.”

“I guess we have no other choice. It is what is expected, I suppose,” Nick said.

Eliza’s laugh caught his attention. It was like the tinkling of bells, and he pushed away a memory of her giggling in his arms after one of the many times they had made love. Well, at least for him it had been love. She seemed to be incapable of the emotion. He tamped down his rage that she was speaking with a gentleman who glanced at her chest when the man believed Eliza wouldn’t notice. Worse, why did he even care? She probably welcomed the attention.

“Do you fancy Lady Eliza?” Onslow asked, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

“What? No,” Nick replied. “And shouldn’t you refer to her by her married name?”

Confusion marred the man’s expression. “What are you talking about?”

“Wasn’t she married a few years ago? Or is she a widow now?” Nick asked. That would explain why she had attended the house party on her own if she were, in fact, a widow. And why she would consider throwing herself at the likes of Lord Irvine.

“I think you are confused from your time away from society, Nick,” Onslow said. “Lady Eliza has never married. She has turned down countless proposals. Her name is on the betting books at White’s, with many hoping to win her hand.”

The color drained from Nick’s face. She hadn’t married. How could that be? His father very clearly told him she had married. There was no mistaking that. He never cared to ask who she had wed and had no reason to believe his father would lie to him. He left for Italy the next day to join Ockham on his tour. Why would his father lie?

“Are you all right, Nick?” Onslow asked.

He shook off his thoughts. “Of course,” Nick replied, almost certain his tone wasn’t enough to convince his friend. “Are you one of the men hoping to win her hand?”

“Afraid not. I’m not ready for the leg shackle, but good luck to you if you intend to enter the melee. From the number of rejections she’s meted out, you’re going to need it,” Onslow said, laughing heartily before taking another large swig of his drink, then continued. “She could be a character in one of those Stormy Wells plays the ton can’t seem to get enough of. ”

“Stormy Wells?” Nick asked. What was the man talking about?

Hudson laughed. “You really should visit Town more often, Craven. I don’t fancy the balls, but exhibits at the museum and a trip to the theater are a nice break from solitary country living.”

“I’ll give it some thought,” Nick replied, not fully listening to the man.

Eliza laughed again, and the gentleman she spoke to leaned far closer to her than he should have. The intense urge he had to pummel the man wasn’t lost on Nick. If the man laid a single finger on her, he just might do so. He would get to the bottom of why his father lied to him about Eliza. He reminded himself that regardless, she still pushed him away. She abandoned him and refused to see him. And for some unknown reason, she appeared to hate him as much as he had hated her for doing so, which was laughable.