In Compromise with the Earl by Ava MacAdams

Chapter Nine

Oswald left the room wondering what she would do, how would she twist something, anything, to find his perfect match? Did he even have one?

Instead of going back to his chamber, or the gardens, or the stables, he headed out to the lake—only to come upon a breeches-clad Aphrodite skipping stones into the water. She looked lost in thought, and he hesitated in taking another step.

Only, it did not matter as she said, “You can come closer you know. I don’t bite.”

He came closer and stopped a few feet behind her. “What has brought you out here to brood by the lakeside?”

“I don’t brood,” she said.

“Au contraire,” he replied. “I’ve see that look in my mirror for days. What is it?”

She slanted a look at him, before bending to grasp some more pebbles. Oswald forced himself not to look at the firm press of her backside as she bent. “A misbegotten matchmaking session with Lady Pandora this morning.”

“Ah,” Oswald said. “I just came from mine too.”

“After I told her in no uncertain terms that I will not be placed with the Duke, she made a fuss.” Aphrodite skipped another pebble into the water. “She matched me with three other Lords, none of them you. Lord Easton seems to be fun though.”

“She matched you with Draven?” Oswald’s words came out harsh and underscored with a hint of jealousy.

After slanting a knowing look at him, she faced the water again. “It still does not stop Strathmore from pursuing me. If it were up to her and my father, we would be wed already.”

“You don’t have to marry him, you know,” Oswald offered.

She huffed. “What about you? Who are you paired with?”

“Lady Katherine Fairchild,” Oswald replied dryly. “A woman whose life’s endeavor seems to be upstaging her sister.”

“And you?” Aphrodite juggled a few stones between her hands and before Oswald could reply, his gaze was attuned to her slender fingers’ deft movements. “What do you want in a marriage? A love match?”

He snorted. “Hardly.”

A sharp emotion—one had contradicted his words—slashed through his chest. In his heart of hearts, Oswald knew he wanted love, but was not going to risk his heart once more and be proved a fool—again. “I’d prefer companionship this whirl around.”

“A shame,” she muttered. “You don’t strike me a one who will be satisfied by companionship.”

“Why?” Oswald replied. “Besides what I told you the other night, you do not know me at all.”

Her last pebble sunk in the water, leaving a wave of ripples that soon faded away. “You’re right, I do not know you, but that doesn’t stop me from having some intuition.”

“And what do your sensibilities tell you?” Oswald asked.

“If you have taken so much time away from your peers and the world beyond your gates, you must be in mourning from a broken heart,” Aphrodite said, while facing the water. “In spite of that, you still would like love, but might fear it.”

While she was right, it rankled Oswald that had she seen right through him, as if he was a ripped cheesecloth. His jaw tightened. “You’re wrong.”

“I may be,” she replied with a shrug. “But I do not think so, and before you think me holier-than-thou when it comes to fielding shame, my father is the cause of mine. There are little expectations of me because my father has been claiming any lady that looks at him twice.”

Coming to her side, Oswald replied, “People take you for a lightskirt.”

“Half of the ton thinks I was ruined years ago,” Aphrodite scoffed. “I’ve tried my best to correct them, but I am only one voice tilting against windmills.”

“I haven’t even tried to come against those who think me weak,” Oswald said pointedly. “It matters little to what others think of me, when they have not been in my shoes.”

She gave him a thin smile. “I wish I had your indifference.”

“It’s a gift, or mayhap a curse, born from loneliness and apathy,” he replied. “It’s not hard to come by, but it is difficult to climb out of the pit you have sunk yourself in. The indifference stays with you like an old friend.”

“It saddening to hear that,” Aphrodite said quietly.

For the first time in a while, Oswald found himself at a loss for words. Aphrodite’s jovial mask had slipped, and he was starting to see her for what she had hidden from the world, a scarred soul. The spark of life that had drawn him to her was dimmed; she was truly terrified of being married off to the Duke. “Sprite—”

She turned and flashed him a thin smile, “We should get back. On our own, our absence might not be noticed, but combined—someone is going to say something, and Lady Pandora will not be pleased.”

They headed to the tree line. “What is your connection with her again?”

“She was a schoolmate in finishing school,” Aphrodite replied. “We never connected with many things, while I was constantly in trouble, she toed the lines.”

“Yet, her occupation is in gossip,” Oswald shook his head while brushing a clump of leafy twigs from his face. “How is that a parallel?”

“I cannot tell you,” Aphrodite shrugged. “We have not been in touch for over two years and even when we were at the same institution, we were never close. I can only imagine that something happened to her during those years.”

Musing over her words, Oswald nodded. “Heartbreak possibly?”

“I cannot tell,” she sighed as they broke through to the lands that led to the Manor. “But I know I must tread carefully here.”

“I blatantly told Lady Ravenswood that I have no faith in her actions,” Oswald added. “If I do get matched well and marry, it will be a miracle.”

“I suppose we have different goals,” Aphrodite said. “I must avoid getting paired off.”

He watched her move away, before he headed to the stable and his waiting horse. He didn’t know where else but with his faithful steed he could air out his thoughts. While Goliath could not talk, Oswald found there was more peace in his heart when he voiced his concerns instead of keeping them inside.

He stepped into the stables and drew back at the sight or chestnut stallion in the other stall; he could bet that was the horse Aphrodite had borrowed. The horse was magnificent, and he wondered if he could coax Aphrodite out to ride with him some day.

But why? Despite the attraction, we’re slated for different paths.

Aggravated by battling with his emotions and his common sense, Oswald saddled his horse and led him out to the paddock. It might take a while to work through his emotions.

* * *

While brushing out the tangles of her hair, Aphrodite thought of the conversation she had with Oswald—and smiled wryly at the jealousy she had heard in his voice when she had mentioned Lord Easton.

It felt a bit heartening that she could pry such an emotion from him, and it occurred to her that not once had she seen Oswald smile. She had handled his glares, seen anger flash across his eyes and viewed his stony flat look. Even when they had kissed, he was stoic, and she had never seen him smile.

Sadly, she would not have a chance to prod one from him, as she had to follow Lady Pandora’s orders and stick to the men she had been partnered with. She had to play the game until she found a way to break the rules. Until then, she had to stay clear of Oswald or she might set her plans askew.

A quick knock sounded on her door, and she twisted to see Lydia walking in. “Pardon me, My Lady, I think it’s time for you to be sharing tea with Lord Easton. Shall I help you get ready?”

“Ah, yes,” she stood. “I think I must hurry.”

She changed into a silver-tissue gown with touches of rose embroidery along the neckline of the bodice. It embraced her breasts and clung to her tiny waist, falling in waves of foamy swaths down to her slippers. Lydia fixed Aphrodite’s golden curls to gracefully tumble about her shoulders.

Standing, she gazed into the mirror and smiled. “This should do it.”

* * *

The tearoom was rounded and intimate, with carved low-relief ornaments in plaster against painted panels likened to Roman stuccos. The table was already set but the Lord was standing at the large bow window, gazing out to the yards beyond. He stood with both hands clasped behind him and his bearing was rather military.

She cocked her head, “Infantry or cavalry, My Lord?”

He turned and smiled, “Neither. His Majesty’s Navy, for a few years. My father was Captain and served in the wars. I enrolled and served for a while to keep his legacy going.”

“I assumed,” Aphrodite said while he pulled out a chair for her.

“What gave you the inkling?” he asked, brushing an auburn lock from his eyes.

While opening her napkin, she explained, “Your bearing, it is quite powerful.”

“You have astute eyes, My Lady,” he smiled gently.

Lydia came to pour her tea before a arranging a cup of coffee for the Lord, then took a seat, unobtrusive to the two. Aphrodite sipped the aromatic brew before looking over the spread of delicate cakes and fruit to her partner. “What did you first think when Lady Pandora set me as you as your prospective wife?”

“That she had set me up on an edge of ledge where I would undoubted tumble from,” the Lord laughed. “I’m not sure what she was thinking in making us a match.”

“That is odd, isn’t it?” Aphrodite said. “And now, I’m questioning it too. I have everything one thinks I need, money, comfort, an enviable education and access to a lot of powerful people, but you should know that for most of my life I was termed as a hoyden masquerading as a lady.”

His brows lifted. “I can see that. The breeches you wore the other night gave me—all of us—a hint. What made you gain that name anyway?”

“I almost set fire to Madame Dufour’s Refining School’s parlor in southern France,” Aphrodite said nonchalantly. “That is after I was seen practicing throwing knives. Or perhaps it was after I bested a lord in racing one afternoon. Take your pick.”

Lord Easton laughed. “My sister would have conniptions seeing you.”

“Your family is fairly traditional, I suppose?” Aphrodite said.

“Very,” he sighed while nudging the cup out of the way. “And yours?”

“I cannot say,” she replied. “After mother passed, father had a parade of maids, nurses and governesses tend to me while he went about sowing his wild oats. I never knew what exactly my family is like.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Blinking, she replied, “What? For my father?”

“No, your late mother,” Lord Easton clarified, his handsome features dimmed with sympathy.

“Thank you, but no need for the long face; I have a few memories but nothing much to make me sink into despondency,” she replied. “Anyway, how was it you ended up here? You’re certainly charming enough to have wooed a bride.”

His brow lifted. “You do not play the coy game, do you?”

She shrugged. “What’s the point? Batting lashes, dropping handkerchiefs, double-entendre when speaking, swooning? It’s too much for so little.”

“Some women find pleasure in those games,” he replied. “Especially with the Lady I was set on. Last season’s Diamond of the First Water, a willowy, olive-toned brunette, a lady with bright wit and even brighter smiles. Sadly, she chose another.”

“My sympathies,” Aphrodite replied genuinely before cutting into a tart. “My father wants me to pair with Duke Strathmore, but he is not my version of perfection. My taste runs toward dark-haired, surly, mercurial men.”

Lowering his gaze, Lord Easton said, “It behests me to warn you, My Lady, you are wading into troubled waters there.”

“I can swim,” Aphrodite said brightly. “No offense, My Lord, but I don’t think we would suit for marriage, but friends?”

His smile was wry. “I agree, we can be friends, just try not to challenge me at billiards. The one you have your heart set on learned that lesson the hard way.”

“Ah,” she nodded. “How are you at cards then?”

An hour later and with witty repartee, a stalemate at cards and still bantering between them, Lord Easton asked, “Would you like to walk with me?”

“I’d love to,” Aphrodite agreed. After they stood, he took Aphrodite’s hand, placed it on his arm, and led them toward and through the open French doors and escorted her outside.

Walking with him down the steps that led down to the cobblestone path, Aphrodite smiled. The air was warm, with the sweet, fresh country smell of lingering rainwater and flower’s perfume. They ambled without haste, happy to be in each other’s company. “I want to tell you that I have reconsidered my hesitation about you and Lord Tennesley. I think you might be the best for him.”

Her brows lifted. “What changed?”

“I have a hint that the spark inside you will relight the one his late wife snuffed out,” Lord Easton said. “He’s gruff and abrasive, with prickly edges. I had a horse once, and the poor thing broke a leg. For years he did not run for fear that he would injure himself again. That might be the same case with Tennesley.”

“And here I thought being a curmudgeon was his natural disposition,” Aphrodite said as they rounded a corner. She flicked away a stray strand of hair that had fallen over her eye, placing it behind her ear. “He is a challenge, isn’t he?”

“That might be understatement,” the Lord laughed. “I don’t know him, but I sense you might have to navigate a maze to find his heart.”

After another turn, heading to the rose garden, they stopped short with little space to stop from running head on into Oswald and a blonde lady. In a breath, the lady tilted her nose and a scornful sneer took the corner of her lip. Aphrodite’s smile only widened.

“Lord Tennesley,” she greeted, “and—”

“Lady Katherine Fairchild,” Oswald said, his darkening gaze flickering between them. “My partner for the evening, as Lord Easton is yours, I see.”

As soon as his words ended, a wave of taut tension washed over them. They stared at each other, and a tense state lingered. It was not a surprise because the interactions they had in the past were so intense or filled with such an awareness of each other that tension was bound to spring up.

“So, you are Viscount Kingsley daughter,” Lady Fairchild said. “The sole child of the Lothario of London.”

Aphrodite held her head high. “I am, and what do you mean by that?”

“Nothing,” the lady said mockingly, “literally nothing.”

Sharp shock pained Aphrodite’s face and her lips parted at the direct snub. Lord Easton cleared his throat. “Tennesley, I have something to ask you. Would you meet me in the library this evening after dinner?”

Oswald’s eyes never shifted from Aphrodite’s and the blue flame inside them made her shudder inside. “At eight?”

“That’s perfect,” Lord Easton nodded. “Have a good evening, Tennesley and My Lady.”

With Oswald saying the same, they parted ways and headed toward the ivy-covered pagoda. Aphrodite went inside and seated herself on a small wooden bench there.

“That was…” he paused, “telling.”

“About the imperious look Lady Fairchild had for me,” Aphrodite said with a deliberate nonchalant shrug, even while her soul burned. “It is nothing strange to me. She probably knew someone who dallied with my father. Or she is still scandalized about me wearing breeches. She might even know someone from my finishing school and had finally put a face to the name.”

“Perhaps it is because she senses the same thing I have,” Lord Easton said. “You and Tennesley have an undeniable connection. It’s apparent.”

She picked at her skirts. “I know, but I fear it’s too much so soon.”

“You don’t believe in love at first sight?” he asked, teasingly.

“Hardly,” Aphrodite replied, while her gaze drifted to the flower bushes beyond them. She shook her head. “Anyway, tell me more about your business.”

He quirked a brow. “I could tell you, but I think your mind will be somewhere else, or, rather, on someone else.”

Giving him a wry smile, she replied, “Am I that plain?”

“Yes,” he took her arm again. “It’s fair though, we have been talking for hours. If you need a change of pace—”

“Speaking with you is lovely,” Aphrodite assured him. “But I do find myself wanting to speak with Lord Curmudgeon.”

Laughing, Lord Eaton ushered her back toward the Manor. “If he is inside, I may engineer a visit for you. My best wishes.”

Mine too. But will Oswald want to speak with me?