In Compromise with the Earl by Ava MacAdams
Chapter Three
Glaring at the card as if it had offended him, Oswald’s lips flattened. A wolf? What kind of nonsense was this? Was it some sort of joke he was not aware of, or was this matchmaking business, as he had suspected, an entire sham?
Not to mention the conversation between Lady Aphrodite and his esteemed host he had overheard a while ago.
“There could be many reasons for that. It could be that he is weak in holding a firm hand on his house, or he was just weak in love with his wife, I don’t know, but I do know that nothing is ever black and white.” Aphrodite said.
For a moment, he had been tempted to go to her and thank for her insight that rarely anyone had when it came to these matters, but the progressing conversation stalled him.
“Whatever the gray area is, you should not have any part of it,” Lady Pandora had said. “Besides, the man is staid, proper, boring, you would not have anything in common with him.”
And just as he had expected Lady Aphrodite to keep her stance firm, she glibly replied, “I suppose, I wouldn’t want to be with a weak, spineless man that cannot excite or entertain me.”
His heart had soured. “No wonder she said some thought I was dead.”
Even with their conversation earlier, why had he expected anything different from a flirt? Now, as he headed up to the drawing room, Oswald considered chucking the card away and walking out, but the disappointed looks he knew he would get from his mother stayed his hand.
He was the farthest thing from pleased though and when he entered the room, he took a place at the back, half-covered by shadow, leaning on the wall and with his arms crossed.
Lady Aphrodite sat primly, one of her hands on her lap, the other fingering the card there, and he managed to get a glimpse of a proud eagle. Snorting, he decided that all this made no sense whatsoever. What were the others, bears, wildcats, birds, insects?
He began to tap his fingers on his arm, trying his best to keep calm. His gaze slowly traveled around the room, spotting ladies in lovely dresses, some more polished than others, but who also looked so much haughtier than the rest.
His mother’s plea to find a demure woman certainly ruled them out. But the other ladies, those in plain dresses and even plainer faces told him that they were probably the country miss wallflowers of every ball. He did not want that either.
Yes, wallflowers were perfectly capable of being good wives and country misses even more so, but a part of him wanted…something more. A mix of sophistication, beauty and brilliance, not to mention honesty and loyalty.
“Lord Tennesley,” Lord Easton said, the other man coming closer. “I’m glad you made it too.”
He inclined his head and lifted his card. “I think this is a game I am not familiar with.”
Quentin lifted his, showing Oswald the drawing of a bear. “I think so too, but I suppose Lady Ravenswood will explain it all.”
“Yes,” he replied curtly, then went back to his thoughts of finding a demure woman.
Who in this room has those qualities? His eyes landed on Lady Aphrodite—again. Devil and Damnation!
From the moment she had addressed him, it was this young Lady that had relentlessly seized his attention. It was not just her classical looks—her blonde hair; alabaster skin; and bright blue eyes that had a slight feline tilt at the corners—or her quick quips. It was something more that he could not put a finger on.
Something about her called to him, but he was not a fool. It had taken hindsight, but it had forced him to learn to be overly cautious with coy innocents…because Claire had been one. He had fallen head over heels at the sight of her shining blonde hair and beautiful gray eyes, how she had batted her lashes, whispered in his ear and teased him with kisses.
The image of her was enough for him to recoil, as if he had been jabbed with a hot iron. The past was done with, and he would never repeat those mistakes again. But why had he danced with Lady Aphrodite knowing all that?
I suppose I am a glutton for punishment.
Lady Ravenswood entered the room, her face as unflappable as always. She stood and looked around the room. “I know a few of you are doubtful and I agree with you. Matchmaking is not an exact science—”
“T’is not one at all,” Oswald muttered under his breath.
“But I take pride in doing what I do. If I can help even one pair find happiness it means more to me than you will ever know. I do hope to get all you matched by the end of the retreat though. Another thing that you must be questioning, the cards. Many of you have received similar drawings, but no, they are not mean to pair you. They only tell the personality you have and that gives me key points into judging who might be best for you.”
Holding in another snort, Oswald glanced down at the card in his hands. A wolf. As far he remembered, wolves lived in packs and were not solitary creatures, like he was. This was the first thing Lady Ravenswood had gotten wrong and he wanted to know, how much more would she get incorrect?
“My Manor is open tomorrow at ten o’clock. Please come as early you can so your personal chambers and those of your maids and valets can be chosen and there will be some rules we must go over,” she said. “Thank you for attending me tonight. Please, travel home safely.”
The words were barely out of her mouth when Oswald began striding away. He had to leave, had to put this utter foolishness behind him and do his best to forget Lady Aphrodite’s glimmering blue eyes.
Thankfully, by the time he arrived home, most of his Hall was asleep and he made it to his chambers without any interruption. He did not bother summoning his valet, Sam Turner, and disrobed and dressed in his nightclothes in the dark.
After lighting a lamp, he flung the windows open and braced his hands on the sill, sucking in the cool night air. The dark sky was more ominous by the new moon night, but the stars gave enough light that he could make out the tips of the majestic elms surrounding his property.
“There could be many reasons for that. It could be that he is weak in holding a firm hand on his house, or if he was just weak in love with his wife, I don’t know, but I do know that nothing is ever black and white.”
The words had cut deep and were haunting him, for some mysterious reason. Oswald had prided himself in having a solid granite wall between his skin and his soul. He had been the brunt of slashing remarks before but had always brushed them off like dust on his jacket. But now, Lady Aphrodite’s words had not only breached that wall, but was making cracks.
His breath shuddered when he pulled away and let the thick brocade drapes fall in place before he went to pour himself a brandy. Sinking into a wingback chair, he pressed the crystal tumbler to his left temple.
When it came to the young lady, why did it feel as if the ground had disappeared from under his feet? In his last ten years of navigating the ton, he had met, danced and entertained ladies, some of them had captured his attention, others had not.
He struggled to place Lady Aphrodite in either category. She had drawn his attention from the moment she had said his name and her flirty tease about others thinking him dead. She was witty and charming, not to mention beautiful, with a spark of defiance that he admired. But how easy it was for her to turn from admirer to scorner because of blatant lies, that rubbed him wrong.
I am not weak—I was a fool in love, but I am not weak.
Oswald was the first to admit that he had been blinded by his love for Claire and had allowed her lies and manipulation to lead him to believe in something that was only a fantasy.
Sullenly, he had recalled how Claire had seduced him with those innocent eye flutters, shy smiles and whispers, only for him to lose his head over a so-called innocent, who had played him like a fiddle and made him the laughingstock of the ton.
He had sworn never to do it again and the notion of being manipulated again by feminine wiles put him off, and he had a sense that Lady Aphrodite would have that ability to show him what was really there and not just what he wanted to see.
Oswald rose and gazed at the dark garden from the bow window, his eyes skimming dully over the trees and the hints of the cobblestone walk snaking through his garden. He knew that if he stayed there much longer, he would likely witness the sun break across the cobblestone and the flower hedges burst into color.
Sadly he turned, and the scene before him struck him as barren, cold and uninviting. The rosewood, four-poster, canopy wood bed was large enough to hold a family of five, yet he slept in it alone.
The roman bed in the corner looked more inviting than that monolith pushed against the wall, but he slid into the bedsheets anyway. Tomorrow, he would send his apologies to the matchmaker, tell his mother that this retreat with Lady Ravenswood was rubbish, and that he would not be partaking in it.
He could find his future wife on his own, thank you very much. The last thing he needed was to run into Lady Aphrodite and her kind. If his mother had an issue, she would have to settle it herself as he was not going.
* * *
“You are going and that’s final,” Henrietta ordered, while pouring milk into her tea.
Setting his coffee down, Oswald lifted a brow. “Mother, I am not a boy, you cannot scold me as if I was. I am not going to attend that mimicry of a marriage mart and nor will I be around the fools who put their faith in such nonsense.”
Leo’s eyes shifted between his aunt and Oswald before he let out a sigh. “As far as I see it, the only problem here is this umbrage you have taken against Lady Aphrodite. Did you not say that there are eleven other young ladies there, one who could verily be your match? Why discount them for one?”
“Exactly,” his mother said, buttering her crumpet. “Don’t let one featherbrained lady dissuade you from finding companionship with another.”
Oddly, Oswald felt irritated about the featherbrained comment. “She is not a witless lady, Mother. I have had three lines of conversation with her, and she is brilliant, but it’s her actions that put me off. She’s a flirt.”
“Ah,” Leo said. “Then the sensible thing is to find one of the others who do not go about batting their eyes at every gentleman around. I am sure some of them are staid choices.”
The problem was, Oswald did not want only a staid choice. He knew he was a fool, but he wanted a woman with a spark of ingenuity and wit, who knew not only how to shift the week’s menu a little but one who would be good with children.
Glutton.
The truth is he did want someone like Lady Aphrodite, but was he going to risk his heart, and reputation, again for someone who might be even worse than Claire?
Pausing to drink, he reflected on the night before. Lady Aphrodite had started out so well, speaking common sense to Lady Ravenswood about what could have happened between him and his first wife. But then, she had shifted so quickly it had made his head spin.
Why in God’s name did I dance with her then?
The answer came as quickly as the question did—glutton. His mother was right though; he had to try something different since his efforts were taking him in circles.
“Fine,” he gave in. “I will go. I’ll have Turner pack my things.”
“You will not regret it, I promise,” Henrietta smiled.
He grunted in his coffee, while his mind fell on Lady Aphrodite. Last night when he had decided not to attend, Oswald had dismissed the urge to find Lady Aphrodite and confront her about what she had said, but now, he knew it was going to be unavoidable.
What could she tell him that he had not heard before? Moreover, could he stay at the Estate for three weeks in close proximity to Lady Aphrodite and keep his composure? She was already stirring things inside him that he had thought long dead. What more could she awaken?
