NFH 04 Truce (Historic) (5 page)

Not that her parents had any idea of her plans. They didn’t. They were pushing for her to make a match now more than ever. In four months she was going to gain control over her inheritance. Her godmother had been a crafty woman who’d buried three husbands, building her fortune and holdings with each man. She’d passed away five years ago, leaving everything to Elizabeth. Her parents wanted to see her holdings in the safe and capable hands of her husband as if Elizabeth would allow any man to control her or her inheritance. Didn’t they know her at all?

“Elizabeth, Mother would like to speak with you.”

She gave Jonathan the sweetest smile that she could manage without gagging. “If you’ll excuse me, it seems that I am needed.”

He bowed. “Of course.” He took her hand before she could step away and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Until later, my lady,” he murmured, pressing a second, lingering kiss to the back of her hand.

Elizabeth fought the urge to yank her hand away, forcing herself to wait for him to release it instead. She gave a curtsy and walked away, gripping Mary’s arm tightly. “If you ever leave me alone with him again, I swear that I will tell Tommy and Marcus every single prank that you and I ever pulled so that you will be walking on eggshells for the next five years with fear of what they’ll do.”

Mary laughed softly. “Oh, my dear, I am the mother of two rambunctious boys. Trust me, I already live in fear of what they’ll do. Did I tell you that one of the little beasts put a dead fish in our bedchamber last week? It was so dreadful.” She tried to sound haughty, but her amused smile gave her away. “Anthony swears he can still smell the fish in our room.”

Elizabeth tried to give her an innocent smile. “I wonder where they could have gotten that idea from?” she asked, deciding that it was probably best not to mention that they hadn’t found the fish that the boys had hidden behind Mary’s dresser.

“You wouldn’t know anything about that now, would you?” Mary asked casually. They walked along the wall, heading towards the courtyard doors where their mother was waiting for her.

“Me? Why ever would I do that to you?” She pressed her hand to her chest in feigned innocence, but Mary wasn’t buying it.

“Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps you felt that I was owed a little something for going along with Mother’s scheme to make you spend more time with Lord Dumford.”

“Hmm, you know, you could be right,” she said thoughtfully. It was exactly the reason why she’d suggested the idea to her nephews. Her mother was desperately trying to make a match of her and Lord Dumford and Mary was helping. The man was near forty, balding and boring. The man was also a Marquee, which, in her mother’s book, meant everything.

Mary was pushing the match for other reasons. The man would never hit her and would probably have very little to do with Elizabeth once she gave him an heir and a spare. If Elizabeth couldn’t marry for love, Mary would rather have her sister settled in a safe match.

Mary laughed. “I should have known. Anthony will be livid when he finds out.”

“No, he won’t. He adores me. He’ll think it’s good fun. We both know he’ll do something to get back at me, probably by the end of the week.”

Mary shrugged. “You’re probably right,” she said, clearly biting back a smile.

Elizabeth knew whatever they did to her that Mary would be behind it. Things were looking up. At least while she was forced to remain in London for the next two months she could have a little fun.

The sight that welcomed them was enough to sober her immediately. Their parents stood next to Lord Dumford, who was looking rather smug. Their mother's polite smile turned absolutely pleased when she spotted Elizabeth. “There you are, my dear.”

Elizabeth forced herself to smile. Lord Dumford took her hand and bowed, pressing a chaste kiss against her knuckles that left her cold. “Good evening, Lady Elizabeth.”

With a forced, barely-there smile, she curtsied. “Good evening, my Lord.”

Her father cleared his throat. “Elizabeth, Lord Dumford has been telling us of his lands in the lake region. It’s very interesting.”

“That sounds lovely, my Lord,” she said, trying not to cringe when she spotted several men walking towards them, probably hoping to steal her for a dance or a walk. Five of them were known fortune hunters and the others were known bores. She wasn’t sure which was worse, but at the moment she was in no mood to find out.

“If you would please excuse me, I believe that I could use some fresh air,” she said softly, relieved when her father gave her a small nod of approval.

“Should I accompany you, Lady Elizabeth?” Lord Dumford asked, looking expectant that she would agree.

She forced a polite smile. “No, thank you. I wouldn’t want to interrupt your evening, my Lord. I shall only be a moment.”

“Perhaps you’ll do me the honor of a dance when you return?”

Her father nodded slightly and she knew that her reprieve from this torture would only be short lived, but she would gladly take whatever she could get at the moment.

“That sounds lovely, my Lord. I look forward to it.” As she moved to leave, a few of the matchmaking mothers turned their attention on her and gestured for their sons to approach her. Realizing that she needed to leave immediately if she had any chance at all, she turned and walked slowly towards the terrace doors. Once she made it to the lawn and the safety of darkness she grabbed up her skirts and made a run for it, praying that no one would follow.

-
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“Oh, Mr. Bradford, do come meet my daughters, Lady Penelope and Lady Emma,” a rather rotund woman said. Robert couldn’t for life of him remember her name, but he was positive that he’d seen her at one time or another speaking with his mother.

He pasted his most charming smile on his face. “It would be my pleasure.” He kissed the hand of Lady Penelope and noted that she was rather fetching. He then greeted Lady Emma, who was unfortunately her mother’s daughter. He was willing to bet the girl weighed two stones more than him and she was short, making the extra weight all the more tragic.

Lady Penelope fluttered her eyelashes at him in a very flirtatious manner. Even though he had no plans on marrying anytime soon, he wouldn’t mind spending a little time with a beautiful woman. “Lady Penelope, would you care to take a turn about the room with me?”

She looked down shyly, an act he was sure. “That would be lovely, Mr. Bradford. Thank you.”

Robert took her hand and placed it on his arm. He could barely feel her grip through his jacket. It was a shame that women of her class wore gloves everywhere. For once he would like to feel a woman’s bare hand on his arm. A firmer grip wouldn’t hurt either. Her touch felt cold and distant to him. He hated these games, but he would be willing to play them to make his mother happy, or if it meant that he could steal a kiss from a beautiful woman.

“Lady Penelope, have you been enjoying London?”

“Yes, the weather has been delightful,” she answered. Her answer was short and proper and without a trace of an original thought. He’d been hoping to engage in an actual conversation to pass the time. No, perhaps he hadn’t asked a good question. Maybe she wasn’t like the rest of these mindless drones who cared about nothing except finding a husband with a title and a large purse.

He cleared his throat. “Have you been to the theatre lately?”

She smiled brightly at that. He enjoyed the theatre himself.

“Oh, I’ve really enjoyed going. Papa allowed me to purchase three new gowns just for the theatre. I have one in light pink, one in light green, and a pretty violet dress. Also, I bought new bonnets and gloves. It was so delightful!”

He could cry. He really could.

“What play did you attend?” he asked, hoping there was a way to salvage this conversation.

“Pardon me?” she asked, clearly confused.

“What play did you attend? When you wore your new dresses, what play did you attend?”

“Oh!” she exclaimed as if this was a new and unexpected line of questioning. “I didn’t wear my new dresses to the theatre. I wore my yellow dress, because it went better with the gold curtains in my family’s box.”

“The play, Lady Penelope, what was it?” Please let her know this. Damn him and his standards. He didn’t consort with whores, married women or innocents. Well, he didn’t take more than a few kisses from an innocent. The one universal problem he had, he couldn’t stomach the company of empty-headed women.

As much as he enjoyed sex, and he truly did, the prospect of it had never driven him wild or distracted him to the point that he could ignore his ridiculous standards and risk being with a woman with a penchant for drama. Then again, he’d never had much of a choice in the matter thanks to Elizabeth Stanton. It had only taken her a few minutes one sunny afternoon to guarantee him a life of misery.

In a matter of minutes she’d turned his pleasant existence into something of a nightmare. After she’d dubbed him Robert Lemonade, he’d lost all his friends, his reputation and his life had been turned into a living hell. He’d been teased, taunted and humiliated thanks to her. He’d become a primary target for the other boys at school.

For two whole years he’d been pushed around, beat up and taunted. They found great fun in humiliating him and made damn sure that he was humiliated on a daily basis. Without the protection of a title, the knowledge of how to fight, or friends who could have defended him, he’d been an easy target. They enjoyed themselves immensely at his expense until the day that he’d finally had enough and started to fight back.

At first he’d lost more fights than he’d won, but it was enough to make some of the other boys think twice about throwing lemons at him, knocking down his books, or sneaking into his room and drenching his bed and clothes with vinegar. His sudden growth spurt hadn’t hurt either. While the other boys had grown slowly into manhood, it seemed as though he’d been shoved head first into it.

He’d grown into a man during the summer break of his fifteenth year just shortly after he’d finally had enough of Elizabeth Stanton’s bullshit. He shot up at least a foot and gained a few stones in muscles while the other boys only gained a few inches and a healthy fear of him. Along with his size, his temper had grown and he no longer put up with jests at his expense. His temper and reputation followed him through the years, making men fear him and woman wary of his company.

If it hadn’t been for his family connections and wealth, he had no doubt that the
ton
would have turned their back on him long ago. He would have gladly welcomed the exclusion and sought a different life for himself long before now. Life among the
ton
simply wasn’t for him. For his parents and brother he’d tolerated this existence until a few months ago when he’d finally had enough.

Quite simply put, he hated everything about the
ton
and its mindless drones. He could care less about the latest gossip, the latest fashions and living his life by a set of ridiculous rules meant to exclude anyone with an ounce of originality. His feelings on the matter had been the basis for his rules about sex and women. He couldn’t tolerate taking a woman without an original thought in her head to bed. He’d done it a few times and had detested the coy games that they’d enjoyed playing.

“Mama says you bought a new estate. How many acres?”

He looked down at the woman on his arm. The new expression on her face was calculating.

Bloody hell.

“How many acres?” she repeated more firmly this time.

“A little over a hundred,” he said carefully, not caring one bit for the new gleam of interest in her eyes. He decided not to mention that he’d sold that estate almost immediately after buying it once he’d realized that the bullshit from his past had followed him. Nor did he mention that he’d already purchased a new estate in America and that he was leaving once he’d fulfilled his promise to his mother to help James.

“Hmmm.” She looked over his clothes as if she were taking inventory. He wore the latest fashion. He didn’t buy clothes often, but when he did, he went for quality. She seemed happy with what she saw if the little nod of approval was any indication.

He desperately wanted to change the subject before she inquired about his other holdings. “So, what play did you attend?”

Her face twisted up in disgust. “It was one of Shakespeare’s I’m afraid. I find them all a dreadful bore, but this one was most appalling. Mother insisted that we leave at intermission and I wholeheartedly agreed.”

He stopped short. He rather enjoyed the Bard’s plays. He couldn’t think of anything in his plays that would be appalling. “What was wrong with the play?”

“A woman was dressed in men’s clothing! It was obscene!”

“Was the woman pretending to be her brother?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes! It was dreadful.”

“Was the play ‘As you like it’?”

“Yes.”

It was one of his favorite plays. That answered that.

“Lady Penelope, allow me to return you at once to your mother. I find that I need some fresh air.”

Her grip on his arm suddenly tightened. “Fresh air sounds lovely.” She licked her lips, invitingly. Christ almighty, the girl wanted to trap him. He practically dragged her back to her mother and without another word he made his way outside.

He avoided the garden and wooded areas. Those areas were for lovers if they were willing to brave this cold night for an affair. The orangery, softly illuminated by the glow of several lanterns, stood a hundred yards away from the house. It was the perfect spot for an escape on a night like this. In this cold he doubted any woman would willingly brave the weather to go there for a tryst. The orangery was the safest spot for him and it would be blessedly warm inside thanks to the fires that were kept lit to stop the orange trees from dying.

He ran the last twenty yards to escape the frigid winds and nearly groaned with relief when he entered the warm orangery. He could easily spend the next four hours here, he decided as the smell of a burning fire and oranges teased him. He looked around the orange trees and nearly groaned in disappointment when he realized that this orangery had probably only been recently built. The trees were a bit small and held oranges far from being ripe.