Already His (The Caversham Chronicles - Book Two) (39 page)

“
What
could be more disastrous than
that
?”

“If my brother learns of this, he’ll call Michael out. If that happens, Ren could be killed, leaving Marcus and the new baby without a father and Lia without a husband. I can’t be responsible for that.” She couldn’t say it to Beverly, because she didn’t want to shock her friend in such a horrific manner, but before she’d let that happen Elise would just kill Michael herself and hang for the crime. She would rather do that than to have her brother killed in a duel. A fresh wash of tears threatened and she swiped them away with the backs of her hands. How had it come to this?

“The
field of honor.
Ha!” she said, more to herself than to her friend. “He wouldn’t know what honor was if it slapped him in the face.” She began to laugh, a crazed sounding noise, even to her own ears. “It did slap him in the face and he
still
didn’t know what it was!” She laughed through a new wave of tears. She was tired of crying. That poor excuse for a gentleman didn’t deserve her tears. “Damn you, Michael,” Elise whispered in her empty room. “
Damn you!
”

Realization dawned clear on Beverly’s face and her eyes filled with fear. “What are we going to do? Good God, we cannot let your brother learn of this. What about Grandmother? Does she suspect anything?”

Elise shook her head. “I have avoided going downstairs until after we spoke. I cannot tell her. She would be so very disappointed in me. Then she’ll say we should tell Ren.”

“We cannot have that,” Beverly said. After several minutes of silence, she then asked, “So what will you do?”

“I’m thinking I need to talk to Michael, assure him
I
will never speak of last night to anyone, and get him to promise the same. Regardless of what he thinks of me, I don’t wish him dead.” Elise paced the Aubusson rug. “I’m sure he’ll see the wisdom of what I say. If he doesn’t, then he deserves his fate.”

At that, Elise began another bout of tears, only when she’d settled down did Beverly ask, “Will you go back to Haldenwood now, or see the season to the end?”

“Much as I would love to go home, there are only a few weeks left. I should probably see it through.” Elise started to cry again, not that she’d really stopped since she’d gotten home. “I’ll...” she sniffled and blew her nose again. “I’ll be fine in a day or two. Really.”

“You know once word gets out that there is no agreement between you and Michael, you will be hounded by every money-hungry rogue in London.”

“Yes, yes. I’ve been warned. Repeatedly.”

Elise sat at her writing desk and took a sheet from the drawer. Lifting her quill, she dipped it and began to scrawl, her hand flying across the paper. She folded it and placed her seal on the back. Elise kissed the vellum and held it to her breast as a tear trickled down her face.
Oh, Michael,
her heart cried. She choked down a lump in her throat. “This should bring him around.”

“What did you write?”

“Only that if he didn’t come this morning, I would spend my afternoon searching for him, and find him, no matter where he was.”

Beverly groaned. “You would, too.” Elise nodded. “Your eyes are puffy. Rest while we wait for Michael to either reply or arrive. I shall fetch a book from the library and read.”

Elise rang for Bridget and asked for more cold compresses, then reclined on her chaise with the wet material over her eyes. She wished she could cry prettily like Beverly. Instead her nose and eyes swelled like that drawing in last week’s paper of Mad Jack Thorne, the pugilist, after his latest bout.

It was imperative to Elise that she appear as normal as possible to Michael when he arrived. Not that she wanted to attract him. No, she wanted him to know she’d not nurse a broken heart for him any longer than it took to change her gowns.

He didn’t need to know how shredded her heart really was over his cruel accusation.

M
ichael looked up from the stack of papers on his desk as Samuels entered carrying a note. “This is for you, my lord. I was told to deliver it to your hands immediately. The messenger is waiting for a reply.”

He took the letter and opened it. After reading the short note, written in Elise’s scholarly hand, he jotted a reply, handed the note to Samuels and had him send the messenger off. He’d see her, but he had yet to figure out how to apologize to her for his accusation. All night long Michael lay in bed, his mind replaying her expression of hurt and astonishment at his words. He concluded that no one can act that well. Which meant only one thing—he’d truly and deeply wounded the one woman he wanted more than any other. Over the past weeks, he’d fallen in love with her vivacity and charm, her wit and compassion. Michael had begun to look forward to a life with Elise until he’d let his male ego and his uncle’s pain from betrayal cloud his vision. He’d made an accusation last night that in another time, or in another culture would be life-ending for a woman.

Just before he’d made the accusation, she’d asked what
she
could have done to better please
him
, had asked what
she’d
done to upset
him
. She’d automatically assumed her inexperience was the issue, when he’d been about to accuse her in a most vile manner.

Michael wiped the moisture that had collected in the corner of his eyes, and exhaled a shaky breath. He’d made a horrible mistake. He knew this now.

And he had no idea how to begin repairing the breach he had ripped between them.

Two hours later, he called for his carriage to be brought around and lifted her satchel. The contents of which he’d memorized, by touch, by sight, by smell. The day dress within was one of his favorites, a pale yellow muslin with green piping that complimented her sun-kissed cheeks beautifully.

He tossed the bag onto the seat next to him, the scent of lavender wafted up and twisted his heart, reminding him of the future he’d so foolishly thrown away. Elise could never have done something as devious as plan to seduce him to provide a father for a bastard by another man. How could he have jumped to such an egregious conclusion?

Michael entered Caversham House, just as he had for nearly twenty years, and for the first time felt... uncomfortable. The condemning stares of the staff were almost tangible, slicing through him like a razor. He was shown into the drawing room, where Elise waited. One look at her and he surmised they knew he was the reason for her red-rimmed and puffy eyes. What they couldn’t know was the acute pain in his own heart. Pain multiplied infinite times knowing they were caused from his own actions.

“It took you long enough.” She stood and placed the book she’d been reading on the table in front of her, then asked the footman for more tea. Her demeanor was rigid, fortified, not what he’d expected to find when he arrived. She’d built a wall around her heart in the hours since he’d horribly, cruelly wronged her.

He deserved her wrath he thought to himself as a maid pushed the tea cart in. Elise dismissed the young woman, and poured herself a cup, without offering him one.

“I would have come sooner, but.... I was thinking—trying to come up with a way to say....”

“Please, don’t waste your breath apologizing. There is nothing you could say, nothing you could do that can take back the hurt you inflicted upon my person, my honor, my heart. I hate you Michael Brightman. I will hate you forever.”

He nodded, stepping forward, thinking if he could hold her, wrap his arms around her, that he might be able to convey the depth of his sorrow at what he had done to her. The more he looked at Elise, the more responsible he felt for her sad, tear-swollen face. He knew his minx could be waspish with her tongue, but over the past few months that side of her had disappeared and he was truly taken by the change in her.

She put her hand up, stopping him. “Do not come near me Michael. And after today, I want you to never enter a room in which I am already in, and I will do the same. Are we clear? I do not wish to breathe the same air as you. Ever again.”

Michael shook his head. “We still have an agreement, Elise. Our families still expect a marriage to take place and I am not breaking our betrothal.”

“I already have. There is no longer an agreement between us. I called you here to discuss what we are to tell my brother. I don’t care what you think of me, but I don’t want my nephew growing up without his father. If Ren suspected what you did, he’d call you out. On the off chance that he might get injured or worse, I am telling you, Lord Camden, my brother is to
never
know what you did.”

He sucked in a breath, as though he’d been gut-punched in the gym. “I would never hurt my friend,” he protested.

She shook her head, mumbling something about fools and men. Taking a deep breath, she straightened her spine and met his gaze directly. “Like you promised never to hurt me, Michael?”

He opened his mouth to defend himself but she cut him off.

“It doesn’t matter. If my brother finds out what you accused me of, he’ll call you out. It’s imperative that we keep this to ourselves. Do I make myself clear?” She crossed to stand before him, a virago so beautiful all he wanted to do was wrap her in his arms and love her again. “Besides, if anyone is to meet on a field of honor, it should be
you
and
me
, because you questioned
my
virtue.”

“You’re right, I did, and for that I am deeply sorry, Elise.”

“I don’t believe you, Michael. I’ll never believe you again. In fact, I think the only reason you’re apologizing is you are afraid of what will happen—not just your relationship with my brother, but with your career. I’m giving you my word that I will never speak of it—and not that I think you believe me, because you made it quite clear you didn’t believe me last night.”

“After what—” He cleared his throat, his nerves doing strange things to his ability to speak. “—What I said to you, I deserve all this and more,” he said.

“You’re right,” she hissed. “You do.” Michael could have sworn the sneer on her face hinted at something deeper. Another emotion besides hurt and anger. Pain. A pain so deeply entrenched in her soul that it mirrored his. But, unlike him, Elise’s pain drove her anger. His pain came from knowing this was all his fault. It was his actions that caused this terrible impasse between them, and it drove him to figuring out how to make amends.

Because he didn’t want to live without her. What she didn’t recognize yet was he held the upper hand. If he had to, he would demand they marry. He’d already bedded her, and was within his rights to demand they wed as she could be carrying his child.

He could just imagine how she would take being forced to marry. She’d be bitter and resentful, but over time she’d grow to tolerate him.

If he was lucky.

He motioned to the bag on the table. “I’ve returned your clothing, my lady. Also, I thank you for the safe return of my gelding.”

She nodded as she wrung the kerchief in her hands. He could’ve sworn there were unshed tears swimming in her eyes. Now that he was closer, he recognized the evidence of her crying for it had left its mark on her. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, but more importantly, the life was missing from them. They were flat, emotionless brown eyes. He grasped her wrist as she turned to leave the drawing room.

Wrenching her arm from his grasp, she backed up several steps. “Please go, Michael. I can’t believe I was such a fool for so many years. To think I waited for you for so long. Had I known you were such a vicious knave, I would have looked elsewhere and not wasted those years hoping for a fairy-tale ending with you.” She didn’t give him time to reply, pointing to the door. “Now get out. And if you ever breathe a word or even so much as hint at what transpired last night, I’ll kill you.”

After the door was shut to his carriage, he thought their meeting went well, considering. She hadn’t put a ball through his heart, nor had she sliced his chest open to remove it from him. With a lifetime of groveling and apologizing, he just might win her back.

“D
id you hear that?” Elise asked Beverly as she pushed the door open further to the salon off the drawing room. She’d waited to move until she saw Michael was in his carriage and it rolled off into traffic, wanting to make sure he didn’t re-enter the house. She then checked the foyer, looking down the hallway and up the steps to see if her grandmother were about.

Beverly stepped through into the drawing room. “It seemed to me he was attempting to apologize and you wouldn’t give him a chance.”

“He cannot have possibly changed his true opinion.” Her voice quavered as she succumbed to the tears again. “I think he fears my brother’s anger if....” The painful lump in her throat gave way like a damn bursting, the trickle of tears becoming a gushing flow. “I hate him,” she managed between bouts of tears. “No apology he speaks today can undo the pain he caused.”

“I agree, but I don’t believe you hate him,” her friend commiserated. “You can tell yourself that, but you can’t fool me.”

Elise despised feeling this way. This stabbing pain in her soul could find no relief even in her anger. Any momentary alleviation of heartache she received while lashing out at him, faded the instant he left. Then the tearing, burning feeling of incompleteness rushed back like an incoming tide.

“Someone once said there is a fine line between love and hate, and that you cannot hate someone without having cared first. Think about it, Elise. That would mean the opposite of love is indifference, or the absence of caring.”