Authors: Rules of Engagement
Pender’s words rang out in his mind, “Marry Miss Peacock and all your troubles will be over.” But Magnus knew that was far from the truth. His troubles would be just beginning. For how could he marry Caroline, when his heart called out for Eliza?
God, how he needed the ease of Eliza’s company. Somehow, he knew that only when he was with her again her, smelled the lavender in her hair, felt her soothing touch, would he feel balanced once more.
“Lord Somerton?”
Magnus’s spirits lifted immediately and he turned from the parlor window expecting to see Eliza standing before him.
Instead, he saw her sister. Grace’s lace-skirted arms were folded securely over the bodice of her scarlet gown and a tight frown thinned her lips to threadlike slashes of watery pink.
“Miss Grace.” He bent quickly into an awkward-feeling bow. “I trust ye are well.”
“I am.” There was a coldness to her reply. A bite.
“I have come to call on yer sister.”
Grace lifted her chin ever so slightly. Her bearing was stiff; her smile forced. Something was definitely wrong. “Eliza is not taking callers today.”
Magnus cocked his head. “I believe she may see me if she knew I was here.”
“I fear you are wrong, Lord Somerton.”
He was unnerved by her icy reply. “I… I dinna understand.”
“Don’t you?” Her voice was firm. “My sister has tired of your
arrangement.”
Magnus lifted his brows, surprised to hear that term, of all she could have selected, from her mouth. “Our
arrangement,
did ye say?”
“Yes. Oh, do not be coy with me,” Grace snapped. “I know all about it. And I do not approve!”
Magnus stepped toward Grace. “I see.”
“At last, you understand. Oh, I know this season is all a game to you and my sister, but actions have consequences, Lord Somerton.” Grace narrowed her eyes. “Consequences that could be disastrous for this family!”
“I assure you, I would never do anything to harm this family,” Magnus said with all sincerity.
Grace’s eyes grew wide. “How can you say that?” she all but roared. Then, gathering herself again, she lowered her voice. “You have already compromised my sister, sir. If anyone knew of this
arrangement
of yours, Eliza—nay,
all of us,
would be ruined!”
“I swear to ye, if ever my relationship with yer sister caused her harm, I would hope to do the honorable thing by her.”
“You can
hope
to do the honorable thing, hope all you like, but we both know you cannot marry her.”
Grace’s words slapped Magnus’s face as harshly as if she had used an open palm. He swallowed deeply, then looked up at Grace, saw her shake a little from the blow she’d dealt him. “I must speak with Eliza.”
“I… I will not allow you to harm her anymore.”
Magnus raised his hands in supplication. “I only want to speak with her.”
At that, she lifted her palm to him and turned her head away. “Good day, Lord Somerton.” Grace crossed the parlor to open the door and stepped into the passage. A stiff finger poked in the front door’s direction.
Magnus stood in the center of the parlor, wholly stunned by his dismissal, when Lady Letitia appeared at the threshold. He rushed forward in her direction, hopeful that Letitia would do that which Grace would not, and tell Eliza he was there.
“Lord Somerton, Edgar told us you had arrived. How lovely to see you,” she chirped. Viola drew up behind her and together the two old ladies beamed at him, then at each other.
Grace stepped in between Magnus and her aunts, then folded her arms at her chest again. “Lord Somerton was just leaving.”
Edging her way around Grace, Lady Viola pressed forward. “I am so sad to hear it.” A childish pout pursed her face.
Letitia stepped forward, too, and poked her head through the parlor doorway and looked about. “Where is Eliza?” she asked, glancing up at him.
Grace beat him to the reply. “She is not taking callers.”
“Really? How odd.” A worried look flitted across Letitia’s face. She clasped her sister’s hand and gave it a quick squeeze.
“Well then,” Viola said, doffing worry for a polite smile. “We do hope we will see you at
the theater
this evening. I understand Kean’s performance tonight at
Drury Lane
is to be superb.
Eliza
is quite looking forward to it.”
“Drury Lane,” Magnus echoed with a smile. “Yes. Perhaps I will see ye ladies there this eve.”
“Wonderful,” the aunts chimed together.
Grace narrowed her eyes at Magnus as he retrieved his hat from Edgar and started through the open door.
He turned and smiled. “Until this eve then, ladies.”
As Edgar closed the heavy door behind him, Magnus turned and looked back, fighting the urge to reenter and demand to speak with Eliza.
Why had she refused to see him, to talk with him? Well, she would explain herself soon enough. Tonight, in fact.
He would see to it.
The element of surprise can restore a situation.
Sweeping the train of her crimson gown aside, Eliza nervously took her seat in her aunts’ private box at the Drury Lane Theatre.
The smell of the freshly lit candles filled the still air, their glow gilding the scattered dust motes drifting past Eliza’s eyes as her vision adjusted to the low light.
Voices welling up from the patrons seated below, and from those comfortably ensconced within the crescent of boxes wrapping the auditorium, drifted skyward to the domed ceiling in a cacophony of sound.
With a forced air of nonconcern, Eliza rested her hand on the wide rail and scanned the patrons filing into the theater from the outer vestibule.
Of course Magnus would be in attendance this eve. His presence was assured after her aunts’ well-meant attempt to reverse Grace’s handiwork. The very thought made her quiver with an uneasy blend of anticipation and dread.
“Sit back, Eliza,” Grace whispered. “I know you are looking for
him.
I should never have told you he’d come by this afternoon.”
"Him?” Eliza allowed her gaze to float from the musicians in the orchestra pit to her sister. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Grace.”
Aunt Letitia leaned close. “I believe she is referring to Lord Somerton, dear.”
“He is sure to be in attendance tonight,” her aunt Viola added. “We practically invited him, you know.”
“Yes,” Eliza said, “so Grace has informed me.” Her aunts’ indirect summons could not have been worse timed for her, of course, but also for Magnus, should he arrive. For if he wasn’t yet stricken with worry over the eventual loss of his home due to his brother’s debts, tonight’s play, Massinger’s
New Way to Pay Old Debts,
would likely whisk him to the breaking point.
The orchestra began to play and the massive curtains lifted to reveal the great actor, Edmund Kean, portraying the beleaguered Sir Giles Overeach.
Eliza heard Grace giggle in nervous anticipation. Her sister had discussed little else all week. Kean was dark and mysterious, and his talent was rumored to be so stirring, so powerful, that his words had sent a score of patrons into convulsions only the night before.
Eliza sighed all the same. She had no desire to be here. In the back of her mind she could hear Kean’s emotional oratory, the gasp of the audience, the trill of the musicians’ instruments, but, like voices over a rushing river, all nuances were lost.
Her mind was on Magnus and how she would respond when he arrived. Just where was he?
Straining her eyes against the dimness, Eliza searched for Magnus, row by row, in endless tedium. But it seemed useless. There were too many gentlemen, all dressed far too similarly. When she had all but given up, a tall ebony-haired man entered the box nearly opposite the theater from their own.
Her stomach knotted. Eliza leaned forward for a better look, then whispered to Aunt Viola. “May I please borrow your opera glasses?”
“Of course, dear.”
Eliza took the glasses in her trembling hand and raised them slowly to her eyes. The gentleman came into clear focus.
A familiar tingling sensation swept through her.
Magnus.
Eliza sat frozen for a moment, hoping that if she did not move, he mightn’t notice her. But he did see her. More than that, he outright stared with an expression so fierce, that Eliza flinched. The opera glasses slipped out of her gloved hand, then slid from her lap and thudded at her feet.
Grace shot Eliza an annoyed glance as she bent and scrabbled beneath the bench until her fingers felt the smooth mother-of-pearl case. Snatching them up, Eliza hurried the opera glasses to her eyes.
Magnus came to his feet and gestured to her, then pointed at himself and the exit to his box.
Eliza gasped. He could not expect her to leave her aunts and meet with him now, could he? If so, he was quite addled. She shook her head vehemently.
He nodded and thrust his finger at her.
No,
she mouthed.
Suddenly, Magnus turned abruptly and disappeared through the opening at the rear of his box.
Eliza’s heart drummed against her ribcage. He was coming for her. Part of her thrilled at the notion. The rest of her quaked. Despite thinking about him all day, she wasn’t the least bit prepared to face him.
But minutes passed and there was no sign of him. Eliza fidgeted. She pivoted, angling her body ridiculously, so she could see the doorway in the rear of the box. More than an hour dragged by, fraying her nerves like basket reeds.
At the end of the second act, the audience roared with applause, startling Eliza so that she bounced right off the bench and plopped, bottom first, on the floor.
“Oh, Eliza. Is not Kean
amazing?
Such a talent.” Grace asked, casually reaching out an arm to help Eliza to her feet. Grace was adrift in the rafters, so taken with the performance that she did not seem to register that Eliza was not in her seat.
But her two aunts noticed. They grinned behind furled fans, though they said not word as Eliza settled herself on the bench once more.
Below, patrons accepted drinks from runners or rose to mingle with one another. The loud buzz of conversation rode upward on a sudden swell of heated air to the box where Eliza and her family sat.
Aunt Letitia waved her fan to acknowledge another theater patron then turned to Eliza. “I had hoped we would see your young man, Eliza. I have not seen him. Have you, Sister?”
“I own, my eyes are not what they used to be. In fact, I fear our Lord Somerton could have been sitting at the box opposite ours and I would not recognize him in the dim light.”
Eliza’s eyes went wide. So Aunt Viola
had
seen Magnus. She was sure of it.
Aunt Letitia rapped her cane on the floor. “Where are our refreshments? Eliza, do be a dear and see what is keeping our box attendant.”
“What?” Eliza gulped audibly. She couldn’t go. Not alone. Not when Magnus could be waiting for her just outside the box.
“Please, dear. I am quite parched,” Aunt Viola prodded.
Eliza glanced, wild-eyed at Grace. “Will you join me, Sister?”
“Oh … of course,” Grace said, finally realizing something was amiss. “I could do with a short stroll to the grand saloon before the performance resumes.”
Placing her hand on the rail, Eliza rose from her seat and gave Lord Somerton’s empty box one last glance.
Still empty.
With arms linked, she and Grace moved into the outer passage and headed for the grand saloon.
Grace patted Eliza’s hand. “You may rest easy, Sister. I do not believe Lord Somerton is here.”
“He
is.
I saw him.”
Grace’s brows lifted. “Where?”
“He was sitting opposite our box. Aunt Viola saw him. Likely Aunt Letitia as well. Which is why I have been sent to see about the refreshments. Those clever old women are not nearly as thirsty as they would have us believe.”
Grace’s eyes grew large and she shielded Eliza’s body with her own. “Stay behind me. If he spies us, I will distract him whilst you make your escape.”
Eliza sighed in exasperation as she resumed her place beside her sister. “Don’t be daft, Grace. We are all civilized adults. If he wishes to speak with me, I have no objections to spending a moment simply conversing.”
What a lie that was.
“You did not see him in the parlor, Eliza. He seemed quite agitated when I told him you had tired of your arrangement and that you wouldn’t see him.”
“You should never have spoken to him.”
“So you’ve said, twice now.” Grace shrugged her shoulder as they walked together down the sweep of stairs. “I fail to understand why you are so upset with me. I simply said what needed to be stated—for all our sakes. You would not have done it.”
"I would have, but in my own time.” She stopped her sister at midway down the stairs. “Please, Grace. Do not interfere again.”
“Very well. I am sure he understands the situation now, anyway for I was quite clear.” Grace glanced at the gathering of polite society at the foot of the stairs. Her eyes suddenly lit like a torchlight and she clutched Eliza’s arm. “Look there. Is that Lord Hawksmoor?” She leaned against the rail. “But… it can’t be. Reggie told me he needed to return to Dunley Parish for a fortnight, and he was to leave today.”
Eliza followed Grace’s gaze.
Oh dear.
It
was
Reginald. And he was not alone. Instead he was in the company of a stylish slightly older woman, whose face Eliza couldn’t see.
Grace withered dramatically against the stair rail. “He is with another,” she said, all confidence leached from her voice. “I don’t understand this. I thought he … fancied me.”
“I am sure she’s nothing more than a family friend whom he’d invited to the theater long before the two of you renewed your acquaintance last eve.”
“Do you really think so?”
“I do.” Eliza took Grace’s arm and led her back up the staircase. “Now go back to the box and wait with our aunts. I shall wish him well for you.”
Eliza knew she oughtn’t wander about alone, especially with Magnus lurking somewhere nearby, but she had little choice. She couldn’t allow Grace to approach Lord Hawksmoor and his lady friend in her current state of distress. Knowing her sister’s inclination to overreact, even if Hawksmoor was innocent of Grace’s suspicions, her sister might act brashly, jeopardizing any possible offer in their mutual future.