Lord Deverill's Heir by Catherine Coulter (books to read for 13 year olds .txt) 📕

You will forget me, Elsbeth, you will forget me, and grow strong, become a woman. Do you begin to understand?” His eyes softened, yet she did not notice, for her head was bowed. He didn’t need to pull his watch from his pocket to see that it was getting late. He must leave soon. He said now, quickly, “You are English, Elsbeth. Your future belongs in England, wedded to an English gentleman. You have tasted a brief affaire de coeur.

It is over now. No, no more crying. Please, Elsbeth—” He lightly cupped her cheek with his palm. “Please, do not remember me with hatred.”

“Yes,” she said, looking at him now, “it is over.” She swallowed her tears. Her back straightened. “Please take me back to Lady Ann.” After Gervaise left Elsbeth, he gazed about the crowded room, his eyes resting finally upon the earl. He didn’t seem to be aware of anyone else in the room save the young lady he was speaking to. Soon Gervaise would never see him again, never have to feel his damning hatred of him, know that he wanted to kill him. Soon Gervaise would be the winner, the earl the loser, and it would be over and there would be nothing the earl could do about it. Indeed, the earl would never know. Damn, he wished he could know. He would leave him a sign, perhaps even a letter, so he would grind his teeth, knowing that he’d been beaten.

He watched him for a few minutes more, then turned to take the hand of Miss Rutherford. He saw Elsbeth being led onto the dance floor by Lord Graybourn, and his eyes darkened for an instant. No, he had to forget her. He whirled Miss Rutherford suddenly in his arms. She gasped and laughed in delight.

At the close of the dance, Arabella allowed Sir Darien to take her back to her mother. Lady Ann said complacently, “It appears that Elsbeth is quite popular tonight. I was worried when I saw her go onto the balcony with Gervaise, but he brought her back into the room soon enough so that I didn’t have to interfere. I trust she will be all right. She is laughing with Lord Graybourn. That is a good sign.” Arabella didn’t say a word, merely nodded.

“And as for you, my dear, I saw you speaking with Lady Crewe. That woman has always scared me witless. I remember once when she was visiting on a weekend, she told me that my gown was too girlish and that I was to go change it. I remember your father looking me over and then agreeing with her. As you can imagine, I fled to do her bidding. Whatever did you have to talk so long about with her?”

This could lead to a pit of snakes, Arabella thought. “She is charming and not at all scary, Mama. You should speak to her again. She was filled with your praise.” Where was Gervaise? Oh there he was, dancing with Miss Rutherford. Arabella said, “Sir Darien grows so frail, Mama.” Dr. Branyon said, “Nothing wrong with him, to speak of. It’s merely age, my dear, merely age.”

“From the stories your papa told me, Sir Darien was a wild young man—a wild man even when he wasn’t so young—and perhaps he deserves to be frail now.”

Dr. Branyon was aware that his future daughter-in-law wasn’t really with them. She was looking at the dance floor. He said with a smile, “I believe Justin is fetching a glass of punch for Miss Eldridge, Bella. If Miss Talgarth has her way, I fear you will have very few chances to dance this evening with your husband.”

“I promise I will survive without him tonight, sir.” She turned around, her eyes again searching out the comte. She heard Suzanne’s bright laughter from among the throng of young people. She didn’t see the comte.

Her heart speeded up. She looked again, searching, searching.

He was gone.

She didn’t waste time. She knew the Talgarth stables were on the east side of the mansion. She looked around for Justin, but didn’t see him either. Perhaps he was already following Gervaise, without telling her.

It would be just like him, curse him.

It took her several minutes to reach the long, narrow windows, pull the latch, and slip into the moonlit night. She drew a deep breath, looking immediately toward the east side of the hall where Lady Talgarth had most adamantly insisted upon designing a parterre larger and more ornate than the one at Evesham Abbey. Her result had not been happy. Just beyond it were the stables. Her eyes strained into the darkness. She saw nothing.

Then, suddenly, she saw a cloaked gentleman walking quickly to the side of the hall toward the stables. It was the comte, she knew it. No other man walked with such a cocky gait.

As the comte neared the east side of Talgarth Hall, he turned abruptly to look behind him. The moonlight fell directly onto his face, and Arabella felt her heart jump. It was indeed Gervaise. In that moment he turned again and disappeared around the side of the hall.

She had to hurry. She turned and rushed back through the open window. She searched the dance floor but did not see the earl. Well, there was no longer any time to wait. Besides, she was certain he was already outside, already waiting for the comte to appear.

She quickly realized that it would take her too long to make her way through the throng of guests. She slipped back onto the balcony, leaned over the side, and eyed the distance to the ground. It was much too great a risk jumping. Her eyes fell upon a knotty old elm tree whose wispy branches touched the far edge of the balcony. Without a thought, she ran to the end of the balcony, bundled her skirts above her knees, and reached out for the branch. She clasped it firmly in her gloved hands and swung