How to Marry a Marquis (14 page)

"Dear God!" Susan exclaimed, scurrying across the room. "Was this the thud I heard?"

Elizabeth glanced disdainfully at HOW TO MARRY A MARQUIS, carefully held in her sister's

hands.

"This book belongs to Lady Danbury!" Susan said. "You yourself made me promise not to even crack the spine. And you threw it across the room?''

"My priorities have changed. I don't care if that book burns. I don't care if Mrs. Seeton burns."

Susan's mouth formed a perfect circle. "Were you damning Mrs. Seeton to hell?"

"Perhaps I was," Elizabeth said in an insolent voice.

Susan clapped a hand to her face in shock. "Elizabeth, you don't sound like yourself."

"I don't feel like myself."

"You must tell me what has happened to make you so upset."

Elizabeth let out a short, shallow breath. "That book has ruined my life."

Susan blinked. "You have never been given to melodrama. ''

"Perhaps I've changed."

"Perhaps," Susan said, clearly growing a little irritated with her sister's evasions, "you would care to expound upon how this book has ruined your life."

Elizabeth looked away so Susan couldn't see how badly her face was trembling. "I wouldn't have flirted with him. I would never have approached him if I hadn't gotten it into my head to-''

"Dear God!" Susan cut in. "What did he do to you? Did he dishonor you in any way?''

"No!" Elizabeth cried out. "He would never."

"Then what happened?"

"Oh, Susan," Elizabeth replied, silent tears streaming down her face. "I could love him. I could truly love him."

"Then what's wrong?" Susan asked in a gentle whisper.

"Susan, he hasn't two coins to rub together! He's an estate manager!"

"But couldn't you be happy with a simple life?"

"Of course I could," Elizabeth snapped. "But what about Lucas's education? And your debut?

And Jane's watercolors? Haven't you been listening to a word I've said this last week? Did you think I was looking for a husband for the fun of it? We need money, Susan. Money."

Susan couldn't even bring herself to look into her sister's eyes. "I'm sorry if you feel you have to sacrifice yourself."

* * *

"The funny part is, I didn't think it was such a sacrifice. Lots of women marry men they don't love. But now ..." She paused and wiped her eyes. "Now it's just hard. That's all it is. Hard."

Susan swallowed and softly said, "Maybe you should return the book."

Elizabeth nodded. "I'll do it tomorrow."

"We can-we can decide how to proceed later. I'm sure you can find a husband without having to practice on-''

Elizabeth held up a hand. "Let's not talk about it now."

Susan nodded, then smiled weakly as she held up the book. "I'll just go dust this off. You can return it tomorrow."

Elizabeth didn't move as she watched her sister leave the room. Then she crawled onto her bed and started to cry. But this time she held the pillow over her head, muffling the sounds of her sobs.

The last thing she wanted was more sympathy.

Elizabeth arrived at Danbury House earlier than usual the following morning, hoping to sneak into the library and replace the book before Lady Danbury finished breaking her fast. All she wanted was to get the dratted thing out of her sight and out of her possession forever.

She had played out the scene in her mind a hundred times. She would slide HOW TO MARRY

A MARQUIS back onto the bookshelf and shut the library door firmly behind her. And that, she prayed, would be that.

"You have caused me nothing but grief," she whispered into her satchel.

Dear Lord, she was turning into the veriest idiot. She was talking to a book. A book! It didn't have any powers, it wasn't going to change her life, and it certainly wasn't going to answer her when she was stupid enough to send words in its direction.

It was just a book. An inanimate object. The only power it held was what she chose to give it. It could only be important in her life if she made it such.

Of course, that didn't explain why she half expected it to glow in the dark every time she peered into her satchel. ' She tiptoed down the hall, for once in her life blessedly thankful for Lady Danbury's firm adherence to routine.

The countess would be about one-quarter of the way through breakfast right now, which meant that Elizabeth would have at least twenty more minutes before her employer appeared in the

drawing room.

Two minutes to slip the book back into the library, and eighteen to calm herself down.

Elizabeth had her hand in her satchel and was clutching the book as she rounded the corner. The library door was ajar. Perfect. The less noise she made, the less likely it would be that anyone would stumble upon her. Not that there was much activity in this part of the house before Lady D

finished her breakfast, but still, one couldn't be too careful.

She slid sideways through the door's opening, her gaze firmly fixed on the shelf where she'd found the book earlier that week. All she had to do was cross the room, put the book back, and leave. No detours, no unnecessary stops.

She pulled the book out, her eyes focused on the shelf. Two more steps, and-

"Good morning, Elizabeth."

She screamed.

James drew back slightly in surprise. "My deepest apologies for startling you."

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"You're shaking," he said in a concerned voice. "I really did startle you, didn't I?"

"No," she said, her voice overly loud. "It's just that I wasn't expecting anyone. The library is usually vacant this time of the morning."

He shrugged. "I like to read. Lady Danbury told me I may make free use of her collection. I say, what's that in your hand?'

Elizabeth followed his eyes to her hand and gasped. Good God, she was still holding the book.

"It's nothing," she blurted out, trying to shove it back into her satchel. "Nothing." But her nerves made her fingers clumsy, and the book tumbled to the ground.

"It's that book you were trying to hide from me the other day," he said with a triumphant gleam in his eye.

"It's not!" she practically yelled, dropping to the floor to cover it. "It's just a silly novel I borrowed, and-"

"Is it any good?" he drawled. "I might like to read it."

"You'd hate it," she said quickly. "It's a romance."

"I like romance."

"Of course everybody likes romance," she blathered, "but do you really want to read about it? I think not. It's very melodramatic. You'd be bored silly."

"You think?' he murmured, one corner of his mouth rising into a rather knowing sort of half-smile.

She nodded frantically. "When all is said and done, it's really a book for women."

"That's rather discriminatory, don't you think?"

"I'm just trying to save you some time."

He crouched down. "That's very thoughtful of you."

She shifted so that she was sitting squarely on the book. "It's good to be thoughtful."

He moved closer, his eyes glowing. "That's one of the things I like best about you, Elizabeth."

"What?" she squeaked.

"Your thoughtfulness."

"You couldn't possibly," she returned, practically jumping on his words. "Just yesterday you thought I was blackmailing Lady Danbury. How thoughtful is that?"

"You're trying to change the subject," he scolded, "but just for the record, I had already decided you weren't the blackmailer. It is true that you were the initial suspect-after all, you do have rather free access into Lady Danbury's belongings-but one doesn't require very much time in your company to make an accurate assessment of your character."

"How thoughtful of you," she said acerbically.

"Get off the book, Elizabeth," he ordered.

"No."

"Get off the book."

She groaned audibly. Her life couldn't have possibly come to this.

"Mortification" couldn't even begin to describe the state of her mind. And "beet" couldn't begin to describe the state of her cheeks.

"You're only making it worse." He reached down, and somehow managed to grab the corner of

the book.

She immediately hunkered down. "I'm not moving."

He leered at her and wiggled his fingers. "I'm not moving my hand."

"You lecher," she breathed. "Fondling a lady's backside."

He leaned in. "If I were fondling your backside, you'd be wearing a decidedly different facial expression."

She smacked him on the shoulder. It was probably no less than he deserved, James thought, but he was damned if he was leaving the library without getting a good look at her little red book.

"You can insult me all you want," she said in a lofty voice, "but it will have no effect. I am not moving."

"Elizabeth, you resemble nothing so much as a hen trying to hatch a book."

"If you were any kind of a gentleman-''

"Ah, but there's a time and place for gentlemanly behavior, and this isn't one of them." He jammed his fingers farther under her, getting a few more inches of the book under his hand. One more shove, and he ought to be able to hook his thumb around the edge of the book, and then it would be his!

Her jaw clenched. "Get your hand out from under me," she ground out.

He did the opposite, lurching his fingers forward yet another half inch. "A remarkable feat, really, saying all that between your teeth."

"James!"

He held up his free hand. "Just one moment, if you will. I'm concentrating."

As she glared at him, he hooked his thumb around the top edge of the book. His mouth spread

into a lethal smile. "You're sunk now, Miss Hotchkiss."

"What do you- Aaaaaaaaccccccck!"

With one big heave, he yanked the book out from under her, sending her sprawling.

"Nooooooooooo!" she yelled, sounding as if the very fate of the world rested in her ability to retrieve her book.

James raced across the room, triumphantly holding the book high in the air.

Elizabeth was a full foot shorter than he was; she'd never be able to reach.

"James, please," she begged.

He shook his head, wishing he didn't feel like quite so much of a cad; the expression on her face was rather heart wrenching. But he'd been wondering about her book for days, and he'd come

this far, so he twisted his head up, turned over the book, and read the title.

HOW TO MARRY A MARQUIS

He blinked. Surely she didn't know... no, she couldn't possibly know his true identity.

"Why did you do that?" she said in a choked voice. "Why did you have to do that?"

He tilted his head toward her. "What's this?"

"What does it look like?" she snapped.

"I... ah ... I don't know." Still holding the book aloft, he opened it up and flipped through a few pages. "It looks rather like a guidebook, actually."

"Then that's what it is," she shot back. "Now please give it back. I have to return this to Lady Danbury."

"This belongs to my-to Lady Danbury?" he asked in disbelief.

"Yes! Now give it back."

James shook his head, looking back up at the book, then returning his gaze to Elizabeth. "But why would she need a book like this?'

"I don't know," she nearly wailed. "It's old. Maybe she purchased it before she married Lord Danbury. But please, let me just put it back on the shelf before she comes back from breakfast."

"In a moment." He turned another page and read:

YOU MUST NEVER SEPARATE YOUR LIPS WHEN YOU SMILE. A CLOSE-LIPPED

SMILE IS INFINITELY MORE MYSTERIOUS, AND YOUR JOB IS TO FASCINATE

YOUR MARQUIS.

"Is that why they always do that?" he murmured. He glanced over at Elizabeth.

"Edict Number Twelve explains a lot."

"The book," she growled, holding out her hand.

"Just in case you're interested," he said with an expansive wave of his hand, "I myself prefer a woman who knows how to smile. This"-he stretched his lips out in a tight mockery of a smile-"is really quite unbecoming."

"I don't think Mrs. Seeton meant for you to do this." She returned his strained expression with one of her own. "I think you're supposed to do this." This time she curved her lips into a delicate half-smile, one that sent a shiver down his spine right to his-

"Yes," he said with a cough, "that's considerably more effective."

"I cannot believe I'm discussing this with you," she said, more to herself than to him. "Can we please just put the book back?'

"We've at least ten more minutes before Lady Danbury finishes her breakfast. Don't worry." He returned his attention to the little red book. "I'm finding this fascinating."

"I'm not," she ground out.

James turned his attention back to Elizabeth. She was standing as stiff as a board, her hands fisted at her side. Her cheeks were stained with two angry splotches of red. "You're angry with me," he said.

"Your perceptiveness is astounding."

"But I was only poking fun at you. You must know it was never meant to be insulting."

Her eyes grew a little harder. "Do you see me laughing?"

"Elizabeth," he said placatingly, "it was all in good fun. Surely you don't take this book seriously."

She didn't answer. The silence in the room grew thick, and James saw a flash of pain in those sapphire eyes of hers. The corners of her lips quivered, then tightened, and then she looked away.

"Oh, God," he breathed, little knives of guilt stabbing at his midsection. "I'm so sorry."

She lifted her chin, but he could see her face working with suppressed emotion as she said, "Can we stop this now?"

Silently, he lowered his arms and handed her the book. She didn't thank him, just took it back and held it close to her chest.

"I didn't realize you were looking for a husband," he said softly.

"You don't know anything about me."

He gestured awkwardly at the book. "Has it been helpful?"

"No."

The flatness in her voice was a punch to his gut. Somehow, James suddenly realized, he was

going to have to make this better. He had to take away the dead expression in her eyes, return the lilt to her voice. He had to hear her laugh, to hear himself laugh at some little joke of hers.