Like No Other

Chapter 26: The Countess' Machinations

                                                         Chapter 26

                                           The Countess' Machinations 

        Inevitably, the shroud of insanity had evaporated in the nick of time and Lord Stokeford was hauled back to the cold reality by an unrelenting force. A groan escaped from him, and he jerked his head and wrenched himself away from Caroline as though he was scorched. “Forgive me!” he exclaimed, his tone unintentionally harsh. “I didn’t — I shouldn’t have pushed you on the wall and — God, what a clumsy fool I am!”

        These were hardly the words of love Miss Davis had been expecting in so magical a moment. Realizing that the moment had been cruelly put to an end, she suffered a sharp stab of disappointment, and there was a pained look and bewilderment in her eyes. She was certain he felt a tendre for her, else he wouldn’t gaze at her in that way, or imprisoned her in his arms like some ardent lover. But now, observing his grim face and the severe line of his pursing lips, her certainty wavered and her mind jeered at her that perhaps she’d been indulging her fancy too much.

        Afraid that it would wreck immeasurable havoc to him merely by gazing upon them, Stokeford dared not look at the pair of soulful green orbs that seemed to hurl too many unspoken questions at him. How he would like to fling cautions to the wind, encircle his arm around her warm figure again and kiss her breathlessly — but that would mean betrayal to Laurie. That he’d come too damed close to the very thing he’d sworn never to commit filled him with self-disgust.

        “I should’ve restored you to your cousin when she’d looked for you,” he went on gruffly. “Besides, this is most improper.vWe shouldn’t be tarrying here in the balcony for long. Deuce only knew what had possessed me to — to pounce on you like a curst lout.” When no answer was returned, Stokeford demanded in an impatient tone: “Well, ma’am?”

        “You tried to kiss me,” she replied flatly.

        He was taken aback by her no-nonsense tone. “It would be to my everlasting discredit,” he said, shamefaced. “I hope you’ll forgive me, and believe that I regret — what I’ve done, which is reprehensible beyond permission.”

        She turned away and bit her trembling lip. “O-Of course I forgive you, sir. I’m sure it was not your intention to pounce on me like a — a lout, as you said.”

        Stokeford walked closer behind her. “Caroline, if I’ve impressed upon you that I — I’m engaging your interest, I am truly sorry. But I beg you not to take any heed of it. It was a moment’s mad impulse, that’s all.”

        Smothering a sob that had threatened to escape from her lips, she took a deep breath and faced him again, tears shining in her eyes. “Lord Stokeford, h-have you ever been— in l-love before, I wonder?” she managed to ask, though her voice pathetically shook.

        In a voice like icicle, he said: “I am happy to apprise you, ma’am, that I have not, nor will ever be.” And, as though to worsen the blow, he added stiffly: “Such emotion is beneath my touch, and I believe the same goes for those of my kind.”

        For a while she searched that handsome face of the man whom she’d come to care for so much, hardly believing that it was the same man who was now piercing her heart with his cold, uncaring words. “I see,” she said. “Then I pity you and your kind, my lord. For a heart that does not love knows little kindness and compassion.”