The Sweet and Spicy Regency Collection (87 page)

“Threats?” Elsbeth asked.

“Threats?” Edgeware sounded perfectly innocent. “I cannot imagine to what you are referring. As for the engagement, I vow it is true.” He grabbed Elsbeth’s hand and cradled it against his chest. “My sweet dove, you cannot insist it be kept secret. You see, Lady Dashborough, her family is not yet aware of the arrangement. And then there is the matter of the marriage settlement and solicitors to be consulted. Of course, she insists she speak with her uncle before a formal announcement is made.”

“I see,” Lady Dashborough said, eyeing them both far too closely.

“Lord Edgeware—” Elsbeth began, ready to present him with a royal scolding. She had no desire to be party to his fiction.

“Hush, my dove,” he pressed a finger to her lips—lips that felt shamefully swollen—before she could utter her first protest. “She is adamant about the secrecy, I am afraid.”

“No, my dear,” Lady Dashborough said. Her eyes flashed in the candlelight. “This will not do. You cannot expect to suppress the news of the Marquess’s engagement. He is much too important. This move will come as a great shock to the matrons who have been busily grooming their daughters for him.” With that, Lady Dashborough took up her candelabrum and swept from the room.

“Sir!” Elsbeth rounded on the dark lord, her tiny fists pressing painfully against her hips. “What have you done?”

* * * *

What had he done indeed?

Nigel’s insides stirred with an unsettling mix of delight and terror. Certainly what he had just done would be very difficult to undo.

“I believe you should consider yourself engaged, madam,” he said, his words clipped and sharp. Anger against himself boiled over onto Elsbeth. “I have told you this several times before. I am prepared to do anything…
anything
to restore you and your relatives’ reputations in the eyes of society.”

“I never asked for this kind of help. Gracious, I believe I would rather seek the assistance of a footpad.”

“That can be arranged!” he shouted and charged from the room, muttering curses against Elsbeth, the rigid society they lived in and its damned rules, and himself.

Especially himself.

Chapter Fifteen

“You did what?”

Nigel was lounging against a brick wall with his arms crossed against his chest. He kicked a pebble lying in the middle of the walk, sending it skittering across the slate stones. The day promised to be a warm one.

He’d spent the morning with George, searching the grounds for intruders. After his surprise engagement the night before, he’d forgotten, until that morning, all about the shadowy figure both he and Lady Dashborough had seen prowling the grounds. By that time, no traces of mischief could be found. And even though his life depended on catching that bold, nameless interloper, he had a devil of a time keeping his mind on such matters.

“I believe you heard me,” he said, snarling.

“Yes, yes, I heard you.” George waved a hand in the air. “I just don’t understand why. Why tie yourself to Lady Mercer? Certainly you’ve heard the rumors about her. Her reputation was teetering on a sharp edge even before Dionysus’s painting of her emerged. Lord Mercer was a depraved maniac, and many believe his wife picked up several of his worst habits. Society matrons were inviting her to their teas and parties to see for themselves what kind of mad woman he’d created.”

Doubt flickered in Nigel’s mind. Hadn’t Elsbeth admitted to learning how to pick a lock from her husband? What else had Mercer taught his innocent dove? It was a disturbing enough thought to imagine Elsbeth having anything to do with the brute. He especially shied away from picturing her learning the secrets of the marriage bed from him. The image roiled his stomach.

“It was the only way I could think to protect her from that viper Lady Dashborough.”

“Blast it all, Edgeware, I never took you for a fool, but this…this is unbelievable. Lady Mercer is not your responsibility. What she and that rogue Dionysus did…well, that was her decision. Her responsibility. It’s not as if she’s some young innocent too stupid to know her own mind.”

Nigel pushed up from the wall he’d been leaning against. “That is quite enough,” he said, and stalked down the daisy-lined path back toward the manor.

“Damn and blast, Edgeware,” George called after him, “don’t run away from your friends. You’ll doubtlessly need all the help you can get to not muck this up!”

* * * *

“Elly, why ever didn’t you tell us?” Olivia, trailed by a beaming Lauretta, rushed into the bedchamber and hugged Elsbeth where she sat at her dressing table, busily pulling her hair into a severe topknot.

“We’re ever so happy for you,” Lauretta said.

Elsbeth batted her cousin’s arms away. “The rumor of our engagement is a mistake, a horrid mistake. I have no intention of marrying Lord Edgeware or anyone else for that matter.”

“I don’t understand,” Lauretta said.

“I mean…” Oh, why couldn’t there be just one happy ending for her? But no, her heart had been betrayed once and she had vowed long ago to protect that tender organ from further damage. Even if it meant being doomed to live each day with Edgeware’s passion seared onto her soul while still keeping him out of her life. “I mean I will not marry,” she said very softly.

He would be relieved. No man would wish to be forced into a marriage, especially not a confirmed bachelor like Edgeware. “I cannot marry anyone. And when the Marquess learns the truth of the matter, he will most assuredly agree.”

Olivia sank down onto a little bench beside the dressing table and pried Elsbeth’s fingers from the locket she was clutching. “You mean…?” Her cousin blushed. “Surely, he won’t hold that against you.”

“Whatever do you mean, Olivia?” Lauretta asked.

Olivia’s blush deepened. “Never you mind.” With a sharp tug, she pulled Elsbeth to her feet. “And what in blazes do you have on, Elly?”

Elsbeth briefly glanced at the dark gray gown. The material was heavy and the drab color did terrible things to her complexion, making her skin look dreadfully pale and splotchy.

“It is a suitable gown for a woman of my status. Half-mourning, I believe, is very proper.”

“Papa and Mama have both told you that you are too young to mourn a husband for the rest of your life. You
need
to remarry.”

“If
I
were to get such a marriage proposal, you would find me dressed in my happiest, brightest, yellow gown,” Lauretta said wistfully. Poor heart-broken Lauretta. No wonder she’d fallen prey to the dastardly Lord Ames so easily.

Olivia, flitting from man to man, leading the hapless gentlemen on a merry chase while guarding her heart, would be a good role model for her sister to follow.

“We have no time to dawdle,” Elsbeth said, her fingers nervously pushing the unruly strands of hair that had fallen from her topknot back into place. “Your maids should be along any minute to help with the packing.”

“Packing?” both Lauretta and Olivia cried.

“Packing.” Elsbeth said firmly. “There is too much going on at this house party that I do not approve. We, girls, are to be on the road back to London by noon.”

Elsbeth turned a deaf ear to her cousin’s cries of protests. She had another matter to settle before they could leave. “I will return shortly. I have put off confronting Lord Edgeware and his misguided idea of marriage for quite long enough.”

* * * *

“Have you gone and lost your bloody mind?”

“Good morning Uncle Charles,” Nigel said as his uncle stormed into Nigel’s study and slammed the door closed behind him. Nigel had been standing at the glass-paneled door, looking out into the housekeeper’s small physic garden. Pale lavender flowers waved at him in the warm morning breeze. “Pleasant morning, is it not? I believe I’ll take a ride. Would you care to join me?”

“Do not try to turn the subject, my boy.”

“I had not realized a subject had been raised. Pray tell me, to what were we speaking?”

“You’re trying my anger, boy. I have no patience for your pale attempts at humor this morning. Not after hearing how you plan to tie yourself to that harridan.”

“You speak of Lady Mercer?”

“She is most unsuitable for a marchioness.”

“Unsuitable?” He raised a brow at that. “She was once married to an earl.”

“Exactly! You should marry a virgin! Not a woman with such loose morals that you’d never know if her child was yours or not.”

Nigel closed his eyes and drew a slow, steady breath. Arguing with his uncle rarely accomplished anything. He unclasped his hands and flexed his numb fingers. His uncle no longer had a hold on his future. And though he had every right to express his opinion, his uncle’s thoughts were just that, opinions.

And those opinions weren’t going to change his mind…at least, not where Elsbeth was concerned.

“Uncle Charles,” he said as he turned around. A tremor of anger hardened his voice. “I appreciate your concern. But my mind is quite set.” He knew he was playing with a very hot fire. His uncle could be a brutal man. But he had to stand up for himself or else risk losing control over his own affairs once again. “Lady Mercer is going to become my wife.”

“Gracious, Father, I could hear your voice all the way down the hall,” Charlie said as he slipped into the study, closing the door behind him.

“My brother, your father, entrusted me with your care. He entrusted me to see that the family name continued to be respected.” Uncle Charles said a bit more sedately now that young Charlie was in the room. He glanced briefly at his son and gave him a quick smile. “Nigel, I cannot believe you would willingly disgrace our title by breeding your sons on an inferior woman. There are plenty of pretty, young ladies more suitable for the task.”

“Father,” Charlie said quietly, his gaze trained on Nigel. “I don’t believe my cousin understands the truth of the matter.”

“I understand everything I need to know. There is no woman better suited to the position of marchioness than Lady Mercer.” He turned back to look out into the garden, wishing his uncle and cousin would simply disappear, knowing they would not.

“I agree with you, Nige,” Charlie said. “A man would have to search long and hard to find the equal to our Elly.”

He cringed at Charlie’s familiarity with Elsbeth’s name. “She is Lady Mercer to you.”

“My pardon, Nige…No, Father,” Charlie said quickly, “hear me out. As much as I love her, I cannot recommend
Lady Mercer
for marriage.”

The muscles in Nigel’s shoulders tightened. He wasn’t about to let anyone, especially not Charlie who appeared to know far too much about Elsbeth’s personal life, speak against her.

“Sit down, Nige,” Charlie said gravely.

Nigel refused, not wanting to abandon his spot at the window, the very spot where he and Elsbeth had shared an intimate and completely life-changing moment. He would fight to the death to protect that exquisite memory. “You won’t change my mind.”

Charlie’s confidence seemed to waver. “This is something Elly would not wish you to know. But if you confront her with this, I’d wager she would not lie to you.”

“Yes?” Nothing Charlie could say would change his determination to marry Elsbeth.

“You see.” Charlie lowered his voice. “Despite Elly’s good attributes, she is quite—”

* * * *

Elsbeth stood outside Edgeware’s study. A footman had directed her here, claiming she’d be able to find his lordship within. She raised her hand to knock when she heard voices.

Several voices.

She hesitated. Perhaps she shouldn’t interrupt. What she had to discuss with Edgeware was very personal. She would die—simply die—if he demanded she blurt out in front of others her very logical reason they could not be married.

She stepped away from the door. She’d come back later…when he was alone.

Later? How much later? She needed to get her cousins on their way back to London without delay. The ride to London would take nearly two days. She didn’t wish to waste the morning waiting for Edgeware to find himself unencumbered by guests.

He would simply have to make time for her now. She would demand he see her in private. This sham of an engagement was of his making. Indeed, she shouldn’t be the one to be inconvenienced.

Her fist hammered out three sharp raps on the wooden door.

The sound of voices on the other side abruptly stopped. She held her breath and waited. An eternity seemed to pass before the door swung open.

Edgeware stood not a foot from her, his dark eyes glittering with anger. He was a demon. She’d not been mistaken about him so many days ago when he’d forced her out of the freezing rains and into his carriage. He was a demon fresh from hell, sent to earth to punish her for her unfaithful heart.

“I wish to have a word with you,” she said. Her voice sounded tight and unnaturally high. She quickly cleared her throat. “What I mean, my lord, is I
demand
to have a word with you. In private. Now.”

His formidable features softened a touch before he glanced over his shoulder. She followed his gaze and set eyes on the two Charles Purbecks, both the younger and the elder, who were frowning sharply at her.

“Please do excuse me. I believe I have heard quite enough,” he said to his relatives and turned back to Elsbeth. A strange light sparkled in his eyes as he stared down on her, assessing her. “If you care to follow me, my lady,” he said, “I know of a place where you may speak to me privately.”

She readily accepted his hand, more than a little anxious to get this difficult situation behind her as soon as possible.

“What a practical gown,” he said as they strolled out into the estate’s vast gardens. “The color isn’t quite right for your fair complexion, but the fabric must be soft and sturdy.” His gaze was still trained on the path before them. “Such a gown would be useful to a marchioness. The running of an efficient household, as you must know, involves much more than ordering servants about from a chaise in the parlor.”

She gave a curt nod. Though she agreed with him on the involvement required of the lady of an estate, she wasn’t at all comfortable with how he believed her becoming
his
marchioness was such a certainty.