Authors: Rules of Engagement
Eliza’s mood lightened. Their
arrangement
could remain in place. After tonight, they’d only need to bolster appearances a bit, that’s all. She smiled inwardly, for she could do little more to release the pent tension. Her corset was too tight to take the deep cleansing breath she longed for.
“I have inherited much from my brother. Somerton Hall, a mountain of debts … of which I am working to rectify. But I never wished to inherit his betrothed. After all, I know so little of her.” He hesitated a moment before continuing. “Though, it would do no harm to learn more … I mean, in the event my current course of action doesn’t pay out.”
“Current course doesn’t pay? What does that—” she muttered. Then, his former words registered. Eliza’s jaw dropped before she could gather the wits to react calmly. “Wait a moment, please. Are you asking me to investigate
Miss Peacock?”
Magnus lifted two cordials from a passing footman’s tray and handed one to Eliza. “It would be imprudent to count her out simply because she had an attachment with my brother, would it not?”
“Y-yes, I expect so.”
“I know ye’ve been introduced to both Miss Peacock and her mother. I do not believe I am requesting too difficult a task of ye. We do have an
arrangement.”
Eliza steadied herself.
“We
do,” she emphasized, hoping he would take her meaning and realize the trouble his inattentiveness had caused her with her aunts. “And I’ve been meaning to discuss it with you.”
Magnus chuckled. “Have I neglected ye this eve, Miss Merriweather? If so, I do apologize,” he said, his mesmerizing silvery-blue eyes piercing the distance between them.
She looked down at her slippers. Suddenly, Eliza felt very foolish. She was acting like a jealous ninny. After all, in a few short weeks she’d be in Italy, and Lord Somerton would be naught but a distant memory.
Eliza sipped her cordial twice, then swallowed the remaining ruby-hued liquid and replaced her glass on the silver tray as the footman circled by. “Of course, I will investigate Miss Peacock for you,"—she spotted an iridescent feather shred on the carpet and squashed it with her foot— “in accordance with our arrangement.”
“I am glad you agree.”
When Eliza looked up at Magnus again, his gaze was once more focused on the Peacocks—nay, likely
Caroline
Peacock and her breasts!
Typical man.
“Lord Somerton.” Eliza exhaled. “I say, Somerton.”
Eliza looked down at her own small breasts and sighed. Magnus was all but ignoring her. She looked across the expansive drawing room at her aunts, whose concerned expressions told her that they, too, were witness to Magnus’s preoccupation with Caroline Peacock.
Well, this would not do. Would not do at all.
Bah!
She had to think of some way to regain his attention and keep it. But how? Caroline had the clear advantage.
At that moment, it came to her in all clarity. Reaching into her reticule, she withdrew her aunt’s handkerchief and balled it in her fist.
Keeping a watchful eye on Magnus, whose attention had strayed across the room to Caroline once more, she turned her body toward the wall and wedged the handkerchief inside her corset, beneath her breasts. Then she whirled around and faced Magnus once more.
“Lord Somerton?” she said.
Magnus redirected his gaze to her. “Hmm? Ye were saying something, Miss Merriweather?” Suddenly his gaze dropped and his eyes seemed almost to bulge in their sockets.
“Yes, yes, I was,” she said, as calmly as she could manage with her breasts poised to pop out of her gown. “I will investigate Caroline Peacock and anyone else you choose, but I shall require your help on the morrow.”
Magnus seemed to struggle to drag his gaze up to Eliza’s face. “My help?”
“Whether you realize it or not, as of tonight our
arrangement
is in tatters. My aunts are likely already plotting an offensive to revive your interest in me.”
“Is that so?” A roguish grin eased across Magnus’s lips. “Then just leave everything to me. Oh,” he added, as if he had forgotten something. Magnus reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a handkerchief. “Here ye are.”
Eliza looked the square of linen and then blankly back at Magnus. “I am quite recovered, I assure you. Why should I need a handkerchief now?”
Grinning, Magnus balled the linen in his hand then pressed it into her palm, with a quick glance at her chest.
His gaze lingered so long that Eliza was compelled to follow his gaze to her handiwork. She gasped at the sight. One breast sat high, like Caroline’s own, threatening to spill from her low neckline. One. Just one.
The other lay hidden demurely inside her gown.
“Oh!” Eliza was positively mortified.
Magnus winked. “So ye’ll have a matched pair,
lassie.”
Advance troops ensure the tactical plan is carried out.
The wide sterling tray, expertly laid with tiny cakes and dried fruits, glinted in the waning late afternoon sunlight as Edgar settled it upon the tea table before the four ladies.
Eliza gazed across the lip of her teacup at Grace and her two aunts. They sat together in the parlor, as had become their daily habit, gathered around the tea tray … again.
This
was the life they wanted for her. This dreary, boring, pastry-popping, savory-supping existence.
“Of course, I wrote all about the Hogart’s party to dear Meredith,” Grace was prattling on as she absently fingered each blush satin rose ringing the base of her right sleeve. “Poor thing, tucked away at school, missing out on all of the excitement.”
Eliza laughed. “Oh, yes. Isn’t London
all
the crack?” She hurried the teacup to her mouth, hiding the wiseacre grin itching her lips. “Still, I suspect Meredith is better off at Mrs. Bellbury’s school, protected from city excitement.”
Aunt Viola nodded in agreement. “Our Meredith is quite spirited. And at her impressionable age, I daresay London is not the place for her.”
Tipping her cup, Grace washed back a half-hearted sigh. “Still, Meredith seems quite disappointed to be missing out on the fun. And she won’t even come out for another two years.”
“Before she knows it, her season will come,” added Aunt Letitia, pecking with her plump finger at the crumbs on her plate, in a most unladylike fashion.
Eliza rolled her eyes. Meredith didn’t know how lucky she was to be spared from this horrid season. Besides, according to Mrs. Bellbury’s letters, their sister was keeping herself—and the staff—quite entertained.
The dinging bell in the tall case clock sounded the six o’clock hour and soon after Eliza heard Lord Somerton’s resonant voice in the entryway. She looked up from her teacup, nearly spilling its steaming contents on her azure silk walking dress.
At last.
Eliza settled her porcelain cup down on the table, and as she did so, noticed Aunt Letitia covertly nudge Aunt Viola, who returned a decidedly conspiratorial wink.
Eliza shook her head. There was only one way to keep her aunts at bay and their abominable rule book locked away in the library. And Lord Somerton held the key.
Grace hurried her teacup to the table. “Eliza, you neglected to mention Lord Somerton was to call.”
“Did I?” Eliza glanced anxiously toward the doorway.
Wasting not a moment, Grace pinched her cheeks and bit her lips until they blossomed rosy red, then pasted on a gleaming smile to await their guest’s entrance.
Aunt Viola shook her head. “You needn’t bother primping, Grace. Lord Somerton has come for our
Eliza.”
“I am aware of that, Auntie, but it is possible he has brought along a gentleman friend,” Grace replied. “It never hurts to look one’s best.”
Eliza fought the urge to comment and instead looked through the doorway to the entry hall. There, her gaze fell upon a golden wedge of light that retreated across the marble floor and vanished with a click of the front door’s heavy lock.
A moment later, Edgar appeared with Lord Somerton and led him into the parlor.
Eliza donned a wan smile and rose to nod a quick greeting to Magnus. His calling was not a surprise, but his presence made Eliza uneasy nonetheless.
For yet another night, Eliza had not slept well, her mind troubled by the persistent image of Magnus gazing upon Miss Peacock at the Hogarts’ supper.
It had taken some time to accurately label what she’d been feeling, nearly all night in fact, but now she knew the beast for what it was—
jealousy.
This was something she could not abide. Because for jealousy to exist, Eliza knew there must also be a certain level of caring. And goodness knows she could not allow that. No, affection for the man would only serve as an obstacle to accomplishing her ultimate goal of leaving for Italy at the end of the season.
It would be best for all if theirs remained purely a business relationship, and nothing more.
As Magnus came to stand before her, and she smelled his fresh-washed scent, a little quiver in her middle built into a slow burn. Boldly, he lifted her fingers and pressed a soft kiss atop her bare hand. She glanced up, sure her family had witnessed his transgression, but they had not. Their view had been blocked by his broad shoulders as he bent down.
Surely he knew it highly improper to kiss an unmarried woman’s hand—and yet he persisted, whenever he thought he might do so unobserved. And Eliza could not seem to pull herself away. The roughness of his shaved chin against her knuckles made her skin tingle—and made her wonder how it might feel if he kissed her … elsewhere.
No, no,
no.
She mustn’t allow this.
Damn your handsome face.
Eliza drew in a breath and reminded herself, once more, that Magnus could be her business partner and nothing more.
Nothing more.
“Good evening, ladies,” Magnus said, turning to nod to each of them. “I trust I haven’t come at a poor time.”
Aunt Viola offered her hand to Lord Somerton. “Not at all. You are a welcome guest in our home any time you care to call.”
Next, Aunt Letitia extended her hand to Magnus. When he neared to take it, she snatched up his wrist and hauled him before her. “What brings you to our home this late afternoon, Lord Somerton? Come to join us for tea—or perhaps something a bit sweeter?” She tilted her head toward Eliza, hooted merrily, then released his wrist.
Eliza cupped her eyes with her hand and cringed. “Auntie,
please.”
Both aunts burst into laughter.
Magnus smiled too. “I came to sit for another study. Though, I also had hoped yer niece might consent to join me for supper at Vauxhall Gardens. The evening should be quite mellow, and the entertainment is reported to be superb this eve.”
“Oh, Vauxhall Gardens!” Aunt Viola tugged on Eliza’s arm. “Doesn’t that sound delightful, dear?”
“Indeed.” A tenseness seized Eliza. An evening at the Pleasure Gardens.
This
was how he planned to set things to rights with her aunts?
Only yesterday, she might have commended him for his ingenuity. But today, the thought of being alone with Magnus terrified her. In fact, now that he had played his hand and reestablished his supposed interest in her, she wished only that he’d leave.
Now.
“A jaunt to Vauxhall Gardens sounds incredibly romantic to me.” Grace sighed and blinked her eyes dreamily. “You could leave right away, in fact. You see, there’s no need for more blocking. Eliza has already begun to paint, and there isn’t daylight enough for a proper sitting. La, you should see the canvas. I’ve never seen such a grand likeness. You will be most pleased.”
“Oh. Ye’ve already begun?” Magnus looked up at Eliza, quite surprised. “Then perhaps ye would be so good as to allow me to see the portrait… to view yer progress.”
“Of course. The canvas is in the library. I shall fetch it for you,” she replied, eager to leave the room and put as much distance as possible between them.
“No need. I shall accompany ye and save ye the exertion of moving the painting,” Magnus offered, his long legs carrying him to the doorway before Eliza had even skirted the tea table.
“Please do not trouble yourself, Lord Somerton.” Eliza waved him away.
“I assure ye, ‘tis no trouble at all.” His lips parted and he leveled her with a dashing smile.
She glanced down at her bodice, half expecting the pounding of her heart to be visible through the fine silk of her walking gown. When she looked up again, she saw Magnus’s silvery eyes had followed her gaze.
Mortified as her chest flushed a deep crimson red, she rushed past him and headed for the corridor. Glancing back over her shoulder, she saw him grin, tip his head to her aunts, and follow her.
Lifting her skirts, Eliza flew to her easel and turned it so that the painting might catch the last rays of golden light. But before she could step back, she felt the heat of Magnus behind her. She turned her head slowly and saw him studying the canvas over her shoulder.
“You are quite talented, Eliza. I can see why painting holds such significance in your life.”
“I… I am far from being finished,” she said, turning around in the breath of space between him and the painting.
It was then that she realized her mistake.
Magnus peered down at her, his mouth partly open.
She watched, unable to move, as his tongue slid over his full lower lip, making her feel like a tasty morsel he was about to sample.
Though she inhaled faster, Eliza could not take in enough air. Nor could he, it seemed, for his chest heaved as if he’d just returned from a hard ride.
His eyes, always so pale and cool, now glowed with the blue heat of a candle flame, threatening to ignite her. And, indeed, warmth was building within her, intensifying the dull ache that burned in the pit of her belly.
Magnus reached out and brushed her cheek with his knuckles.
Without a thought, her head turned of its own accord, and her lips swept over the base of his fingers.
“Eliza,” he whispered, and her insides turned to liquid. He touched her face and turned it upward, slowly touching her mouth to his. He groaned as he tasted her, as his tongue gently explored the curve of her wanting lips, the smooth slickness of the inside of her mouth.