Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

H e knew he'd pushed Miss Newton too far when she stormed off. Elwood shoved a hand through his hair and reminded himself that she wasn't used to the sort of banter that he generally engaged in with some of his former paramours.

Determined to ease the unwanted tension between them, he went inside to find her heading purposefully toward the front door in a flurry of pink, fists clenched at her sides. Standing in the foyer, momentarily stunned, he found his voice and demanded, "Where are you going?"

"Back to London," she snapped, not once breaking her stride.

"How do you intend to get there?"

Her hand touched the doorknob. "I'll walk if I must."

Now she was just being unreasonable. It wasn't as if he could tell her that, but neither could he let her go. Not yet. She might be upset with him right now, but it would be deuced boring without her here. And if he was perfectly honest with himself, he enjoyed sparring with her.

He shot forward and shut the door just as she opened it. She didn't look at him, but set her jaw mutinously. "Let me go."

He shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't do that."

Her green eyes turned on him and immediately froze him in place. He could almost feel the frigid air chilling him from that cold stare. "I believe I have enough for my article. As such, I find it unnecessary to remain with such a?—"

"I'm sorry."

She paused, her gaze narrowing warily. "What?"

He clenched his jaw, because he knew he had to say it a second time. Enunciating each word slowly, he repeated, "I'm. Sorry."

She crossed her arms. "Why should I believe you?"

"Because I don't generally say it."

Elwood was being sincere, probably for one of the few times in his life. It was a strange sensation to apologize to anyone, to say the least, and he wasn't really sure why he was doing it now, except he knew he'd been out of line by her standards.

She closed her eyes and lowered her head for a few moments. When she lifted her head again, she looked at him steadily. "I appreciate that, my lord, but I wish you would consider that I'm not your enemy. While I intend to learn the truth, it might be a refreshing change if another side of your character was revealed for society to see. Wouldn't it be beneficial to clear your name?"

That is the one thing he couldn't readily understand. "Why me? You could have cornered any of the other rakes that were featured by ‘The Belle,' and yet, you hunted me down."

She seemed to consider this. "Allow me to speak with candor, Lord Belmont. I have finished a novel, but before I dare to hope that anyone might publish it, I need this article to prove that I am someone worthy of note. Unlike you, I don't have unlimited resources at my disposal. I'm the daughter of a weaver in Spitalfields and I have envisioned something more for my life. I am motivated to improve my circumstances, to enjoy things like grapes and fine linens, but it is not without hard work."

At this revelation, all of her determination made perfect sense. "I see." He crossed his arms and contemplated the situation before him, but there wasn't any other option but the obvious one. "In light of your honesty, I find myself in strange waters. I should like to help you fulfill that dream."

Her eyes widened slightly. "You would help me, knowing I'm not part of the gentry?"

He shook his head. "The peerage has never meant very much to me. I was born into the nobility. It wasn't by choice."

She tilted her head to the side and looked at him with more than a hint of skepticism. "Does that mean you would have done something different with your life should you have been given the opportunity?"

He considered the query, and realized that no one had ever asked him what he might have wanted to do with his life should he not have been an earl and a future marquess. He supposed it was because that was what he was supposed to do and there weren't any other avenues open to him. "I can't really say. Perhaps a shipbuilder? I always liked to craft things out of wood." Dear God, did I actually say that out loud? He had never told anyone that secret desire.

"Then who is to say you can't?" she returned. When he frowned, she waved a hand. "I don't mean a trade, but certainly you could engage in a hobby that combines something you enjoy doing. Perhaps build small ships in a bottle?"

He found himself smiling. He was quite sure that his former mistress would have laughed outright at the very image of him using what little patience he had to do such a thing. But now that the subject had been proposed, he decided that the idea had merit. Intrigued, he murmured, "I might consider it." When the silence began to lengthen, he held out his hand. "If you would care to stay, I will give you a tour of the manor so that you might feel more comfortable moving about on your own."

She lifted a brow. "You would allow me such freedoms, knowing that I might find something complimentary to incriminate your licentious character?"

He winked. "I am willing to take the risk." He narrowed his gaze slightly. "Are you willing to do the same to stay with me?"

It wasn't often that Meliah found herself at a loss for words, but when Lord Belmont actually apologized—she was truly stunned. Followed by his generous offer, she had to wonder if she had uncovered a different type of seduction, but deciding that she would give him the benefit of the doubt, and because she didn't really want to have to travel all the way back to the city on foot, she accepted his hand.

His fingers closed over hers, but instead of doing something like rubbing his thumb along her hand to bring about a reaction, he merely allowed their clasped hands to fall to the side. It was odd to hold this man's hand, to hold anyone's hand really, but Meliah decided it wasn't an unwelcome contact.

The earl led her back down the hallway that led to the morning room. Before they got there, he paused at one of the closed doors that she had passed by earlier. "This is the Belmont study." With his free hand, he opened the door and began to gesture to various things about the room when he spoke. "Since this is a hunting box, you will see a lot of scenes depicting the same, and various antlers and taxidermy pheasants and grouse that my father has killed over the years. He has a fox about somewhere, but it is a prized possession, and often travels with him, so it is likely at the estate."

"I didn't realize that a collection of dead animals was so appealing to the upper classes," Meliah murmured.

"It is for the most devote hunter," he explained. "They consider their spoils as something of a trophy for personal achievements."

She scrunched up her nose in distaste. "Couldn't you just give someone a silver cup or some sort of thing?"

"That would be an idea," he concurred. "But I think some of the peers, like my father, would think their prized study might start to resemble something of a butler's pantry."

Meliah laughed at the image of Lord Belmont surrounded by a room full of silver cups. "I suppose you're right."

He winked at her, but she didn't find fault with the action. Instead, she found it rather appealing, and dare she admit, somewhat charming?

The tour continued about the rest of the lower level of the house with several parlors and sitting rooms in varied colors and décor. From the influence of the Orient, to more subdued, earthy tones of brown and green, it was obvious that the manor was meant to be a masculine refuge, rather than a place of frequent entertaining.

When she was introduced to the library, she was immediately in awe. There were two levels of books with a rolling ladder that went about the expanse, so that people could enjoy something on the top shelf, if it pleased them. Two dark leather, Chesterfield sofas were positioned in the middle of the room so that one might read in comfort, while a large, marble fireplace domineered the space between.

"This is wonderful," she breathed, as they finally parted. She trailed her fingertips along the leather-bound spines with their gilt lettering. There weren't just treatises or volumes dedicated to the art of hunting, but tomes from poets and respected authors. "I'm surprised there are so many novels here."

"I daresay that was part of my mother's influence." The earl rolled his eyes dramatically and she smiled. "Although this was meant as a haven for the Traverson line, she said that there needed to be a variety of books present in case someone wanted to read something of interest."

"I think I would like your mother," Meliah noted.

He must have observed how fascinated she was with the books, because he said, "You are welcome to peruse anything while you are here."

She turned to him with her mouth slightly agape. "Do you mean it?"

He stood a short distance away and watched her meander about the room. It was as if he was content just observing from a respectable distance. It was both unnerving and welcome at the same time. "Of course. You are a guest, and I did say you could explore the manor at your leisure."

"That is very kind."

He didn't agree, as his baser urges were still present, but he pushed them away and tilted his head to the side. "Shall we continue our exploration?"

Elwood was finding that, once he had pushed aside his lust toward the lady, Miss Newton was turning out to be quite a delight. She had a decided wit about her that he found intriguing, and her conversational abilities didn't bore him. That was certainly saying something, because he despised society events for that reason. He was generally attached to some empty-headed chit until he could contrive an excuse to make his escape. If Miss Newton were at a ball, he would be hard pressed to leave her side.

He imagined her taking the ton by storm. She could easily be the diamond of the season and sought after by most of the eligible bachelors who claimed they had no desire to marry. As jaded as Elwood was about the wedded state, he had to admit that she was a pleasant surprise in both character and appeal. In another life, in another time, they might have become friends—perhaps more. But there was little he could offer her except a torrid affair, because he didn't want to become that moony-eyed imbecile he looked upon with such disdain.

Upstairs, there wasn't much other than the bedchambers, but there was his particularly favorite room in the manor, and that was the game room.

When he opened the door at the end of the hall, Elwood's gaze instantly went to the window seat that looked out over the familiar green rolling hills and the vineyard situated in the distance. Memories of his childhood assailed him once more. When he had joined his father as a young lad, he recalled the freedom he'd felt at running through these rooms. The marquess might have entertained one or two of his peers that he had invited for the hunt, but this was one of the few places Elwood could be where he wasn't under his mother's constant eye. His brothers had been too young to join them at the time, so Elwood had been spared the strict supervision of a governess as well. In those few weeks out of the year, he had discovered a love for the outdoors that had not waned.

"A billiard table?"

Miss Newton's query brought him back to the present. He headed toward the cues that were hanging up on a rack along the side of the wall. He took one down and handed it to her. "Do you play?"

She accepted the cue. "I can't say that I have. Weaver's daughters generally don't make a habit of engaging in such frivolous activities."

He offered a smirk as he gathered his own cue. "Fair point." He arranged the colored billiard balls in the rack in the middle of the table and carefully removed it. "Watch my stance. I am going to make the break shot and then we can commence with the instruction."

Elwood positioned the cue between his thumb and forefinger and ensured that his arm was perpendicular to the stick. Bending forward slightly, he kept his grip relaxed, but firm, as he set up the beginning shot. The satisfying crack of the balls splitting apart and rolling across the top of the table was a sound that he would never tire of hearing.

He smiled as he looked over at Miss Newton. "Your turn."

She looked a bit hesitant, but she moved forward. She stared at the balls that were scattered and said, "How do I know what to aim for?"

He explained briefly, that the white cue ball needed to strike the red one and make it into one of the six pockets around the table. "If you do that, you get the chance to shoot again. If not, then it is my shot."

"Seems easy enough," she muttered, and then attempted to mimic his earlier pose.

Elwood had to stop from chuckling as she held the cue a bit too high. "Is this right?" she asked.

"Er… not quite." He didn't want to be too critical of her, because something told him that she would make a worthy opponent once she understood the rules. "Let me help you."

Standing behind her, he put his hands on her shoulders and positioned her, and then he took the cue and whispered in her ear as he moved it into the proper place. "That's it. No, loosen your grip a bit more." He tried to keep his attention strictly on the match, but by the time she was ready to shoot, he was practically holding her. With her enticing backside brushing against his trousers, he feared he might be forced to break his earlier code of conduct.

He closed his eyes and prayed for fortitude as she took a slight breath. "Now?"

He swallowed. "Yes."

She slowly drew back, and with his assistance, she gained enough momentum to send the cue ball rolling toward the red one. With a satisfying crack, it sailed toward the farthest pocket and dropped right inside.

"I did it!"

As she straightened and turned to him, he realized that he was close enough to see the sparkle in her gaze. Combined with the broad smile of victory on her face, it was a heady combination. "Indeed, you did."

She swallowed and then adjusted her statement. "I suppose we did it, since you were kind enough to assist."

He lifted a brow. With her pinned between him and the table, it would be so easy to coerce another kiss… "Kind? That's the second time you've called me that. Does that mean you've altered your opinion of me?"

She narrowed her gaze. Perhaps she heard the husky note to his voice. "Not just yet."

He leaned toward her and he had to applaud her fortitude when she held her ground. "Perhaps I shall just condemn myself for good." As his gaze fell to her lips, he waited for her to object or push him away.

She did neither.