Even now, her heart clenched painfully at the memory.
“It’s good you decided to go to Stratford, milady. You deserve a chance to make merry,” Anne said, her teeth chattering. “Although I do wish it were warmer.”
“I do as well,” Lauren agreed softly, pulled from her memories. “We should be there soon, I think.”
It wasn’t much longer that a knock on the coach roof alerted them of their imminent arrival at their destination.
Ollie sat up with a start while Anne giggled.
“Have we arrived, milady?” He removed his spectacles, blinking like an owl at the two women.
“It appears we have.” Lauren adjusted her cloak, lifting the coach’s small window curtain to see the house come into view down a long, tree-lined drive. She pretended not to see the wink the servant gave her maid. She was well aware of the budding romance between the two of them and thought it quite sweet.
Accepting the coachman’s hand as she descended the coach steps, Lauren was immediately bundled within an oversized blanket of blue tartan. It must have been warmed by the fire, for it was toasty, smelling of chestnuts and cinnamon. She inhaled the scent with appreciation while tucking her hands within her ermine muff.
“Let’s get you out of this wind, my dear,” George, her cousin’s husband, stated cheerfully. The viscount pulled Lauren along, his larger form blocking the stronger winds as they hurried up the manor’s steps. Behind them, servants helped Anne and Ollie with the baggage.
Several guests were gathered in the large foyer, and in the midst of the merry confusion, Lauren was warmly embraced by her cousin, Penelope.
“My dear Lauren, it is wonderful to see you after so many months. We’ve been so worried for your arrival with the temperamental weather.” The viscountess squeezed Lauren tight then held her away so she could better look her over. “Still as lovely as ever, but you are too thin. No worries, though. We shall remedy that well enough over the next few weeks.”
Lauren grinned, gratified that marriage apparently agreed with Penelope. Her cousin’s face still glowed as it had after her wedding to the earl just two years before.
“I see you still like to meddle,” Lauren teased.
“Guilty, I’m afraid.” A spark of something lit Penelope’s soft blue eyes. “I hope you forgive me for it, too.”
“How can I not? Thank you for inviting me for Christmas. I’m so sorry Mother could not accompany me.”
“I do hope she is feeling better. I’m sure the past few months have been very difficult.”
Lauren nodded as the chatter around them ebbed and flowed. Her cousin must have invited nearly two dozen people to spend the holidays at Settleton. It was a lively mix of people. Some she knew, a few she did not.
Hopefully, the scandal created when she broke off her engagement the year before had died down. Every now and then, Lauren accepted a kiss on the cheek or a handshake of greeting while continuing her conversation with Penelope. The atmosphere of acceptance was reassuring. She thought she might face more censure, even among this tight-knit group of people her cousin considered friends and family, but it appeared that was not the case at all.
“Mother is much improved. Not well enough for travel, of course, but she would not be dissuaded from my attending the festivities,” Lauren replied.
Penelope, who at twenty-five was older than Lauren by two years, tilted her head just as George wrapped an arm around her waist.
“So, Lauren, you haven’t decided to return to London?” he inquired with a raised brow.
Penelope looked vaguely distressed as Lauren laughed. Whipping the tartan blanket and her heavy traveling cloak from her shoulders, she handed the items off to a servant. “I’ve only arrived, Lord Settleton! You won’t get rid of me so easily, I’m afraid.”
Penelope bit her lip as the noise in the foyer abruptly ground to a halt. “Lauren, my dearest, there is something I must tell—”
It suddenly felt as though the tension in the room spiked by several degrees. An immediate shiver coursed through Lauren’s body.
She knew who stood behind her. Knew he was the reason for the familiar tingle on the back of her neck, the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. For six months, he’d held claim over her, commanded her thoughts, and hijacked her breaths. When she ended things between them, his strong reaction, his anger and bewilderment, had both confused and saddened her. Many nights were wasted wondering if she’d made the right decision, just as many were spent convincing herself she had until, at last, her heart was insulated from feeling anything at all.
And now, it was happening again.
Lauren rotated, coming face to face with Theodore Samuel Hawthorne, the new Earl of Hawthorne.
Her former fiancé bowed at the waist; his eyes fixed on her as though starved for the very sight of her face. It was disturbing to realize she could not tear her gaze away from him, either.
“Hello, Lauren.”
Chapter 2
“How ever did you talk your way into an invitation?” Lauren hissed once the library door clicked shut behind them.
Within a matter of moments, Theodore had immediately steered Lauren away from the crowd, ushering her into the first available room that offered a bit of privacy. People watched them go, whispering behind upraised hands while George and Penelope cheerfully invited everyone back to the drawing room.
Now, the earl regarded her calmly, hands clasped behind his back. His eyes roamed her body with such languid heat Lauren felt it like a physical touch.
“Perhaps you should ask your cousin what she’s about. I did not pursue this, although I won’t say I’m sorry we’re both here. You’ve refused to see me, Lauren. For twelve very long months. Did you think I would forget you and move on? Because I haven’t, and I won’t.”
“You are no longer my betrothed, Hawthorne! That sordid arrangement dissolved upon my father’s death,” Lauren bit out.
She remembered that day well. The day the old Earl of Hawthorne died and the discovery she’d been purchased as a bride for his son in exchange for a title came to light. She’d been heartbroken. And furious.
Theodore had known all along. When confronted, he flushed a guilty shade of red and said their marriage would take place as planned. He assured her the details of the contract didn’t matter.
But it did matter, and while her father was alive, Lauren was bound to the arrangement.
It was only three months after the old earl was buried that her own father passed unexpectedly. Lord Kendall’s untimely death released Lauren. While relieved to be free, she nevertheless experienced moments of deep despair. She convinced herself it was because she grieved for her father, and not because she missed Theodore.
Now she knew that was wrong. She’d missed Theodore dreadfully. Somehow, after all these months apart, the earl had grown far more handsome. Even if there was a hardness about him now, a roughness enhanced by the dark scruff shading his jaw and a wicked gleam in his eye.
Taking over his own father’s bankrupt estates could not have been easy. Especially when the influx of wealth her inheritance would have provided vanished with the dissolution of their engagement.
“My father was wrong to promise me to you, and it was wrong of your father to accept that promise in exchange for money,” Lauren said when she regained control of her emotions. “My mother told me you’ve recovered your fortunes in recent months. I am glad for it and relieved you no longer have need of my inheritance.”