"I
cannot believe your mother-in-law wants to go on with the engagement
ball," Elizabeth said to the young duchess as the dressmaker finished and
left the room. "Two weeks from now seems barely enough time to prepare
after all that has happened."
Jane
laughed. "The preparations will keep her entertained while her husband is
away. She misses him so much. It seems there has been some trouble at one of
his estates and he will be gone away longer than he predicted."
Milli
ducked her head inside the fitting room. "
Excusez-moi
, but if you
hurry back into your things, Lizzie, maybe I can show you what I found out
here. It's simply enchanting!"
The
duchess laughed as Milli skipped back into the shop. "She's a wonderful
girl, Elizabeth. Go on and get dressed. I'll try to keep my mother-in-law busy
on the other side of the shop."
Elizabeth
finished dressing and tried to compose herself as she left the fitting room to
search for her sister.
"Oh,
Lizzie, look here," Milli proclaimed. "You must have this silver-blue
ribbon to go with that matching material over there. It will go so well with
your eyes. Stephen will simply die when he sees you in it." The girl's
eyes fluttered closed, as if she were caught in a delicious dream.
"I
thought you were on my side! And he is Lord Stephen Clearbrook to you."
Milli
picked up a handful of buttons. "I am on your side. But as to Mr.
Fennington, I believe Lady Emily is correct. I now have proof he is a villain.
Lady Emily has confirmed it."
"What
has Lady Emily got to do with this?" Elizabeth replied, lowering her
voice.
"She
told me that Mr. Fennington broke into her chambers one night, intending to
carry her away to Gretna Green."
Elizabeth
felt her heart sink. "And?"
"And
her four brothers found the man, right there in her chambers! Truly, I am not
fibbing, Lizzie. Lady Emily told me so. Needless to say, Mr. Fennington wiggled
his way out of that mess and into another when he tried to kidnap Lady Emily
just before her wedding took place. Luckily, her brothers found him again
before Lord Stonebridge appeared, and they tied Fennington up until after the
ceremony."
Elizabeth
did not realize she was wringing her hands around the silver ribbon until Milli
gave a deliberate swoon over the counter and closed her eyes.
"Lord
Stonebridge," Milli said, opening one eye, "wanted to draw and
quarter the man, but Lady Emily asked that he be deposited in the nearby
village and left alone. She spared his life. What a saint."
Milli
opened the other eye and peered across the room past the window where the
youngest of the Clearbrook brothers waited for the women. "I have been
thinking it over—your marriage, that is," Milli continued, "and I believe
you should marry Lord Stephen Clearbrook instead. He is as handsome as any
prince. And agreeable, too."
"Agreeable?
After what he did to Lady Odette. How can you say such a thing?"
Milli
had the grace to blush. "Well, he is not the ogre you think, Lizzie. I may
have overreacted a bit."
Elizabeth's
stomach twisted. "Milli?"
Milli
chewed her lip and shot a wary glance toward the man outside. "He had
nothing to do with Lady Odette's drink. She treated you horridly, so I put the
cherries in her drink all by myself. It was later when I thought of Lord
Stephen. I thought... well, thought you would be flattered that he liked you
enough to seek a tiny bit of revenge against Odette. So, I said he did
it!"
"Oh
Millicent, how could you?"
"She
was mean to you in Bath."
Elizabeth
put a hand to her cheek. "And all this time I thought he had done such a
despicable thing. I had my doubts, but—" Her lips thinned as she glared at
her sister. "You had best apologize to the man."
"Me?"
Milli looked up horrified. "Apologize to him?”
"Yes,
and do it now before his mother steps outside."
"B-but
he has no idea what I said."
"That's
all the more reason to apologize."
Milli's
lips tightened. "If he beats me, I will blame you."
"You
deserve a beating, young lady. Now, go to it."
Elizabeth
watched as Milli stomped across the room and out the door. The bell chimed as
the door closed and Stephen looked up from the walk, making his way toward
Milli.
"Pssst.
Miss Shelby."
Elizabeth
jumped. She glanced over her shoulder, behind the bolt of green muslin, and her
mouth dropped open in shock.
"Elizabeth,
I must speak with you."
"Mr.
Fennington, what in the world are you doing here?"
The man
had wedged himself between the bolts of material and the small dressing room,
his blond head peeking over the lace.
The word
"coward" came to mind as Elizabeth paused and surveyed the man as if
it were their first meeting. After Milli's assessment, Elizabeth had begun to
rethink her own plans and her heart. Perhaps this man was not who she thought
he was. Perhaps he did want her papa's money and did not love her at all.
"Mr.
Fennington, I cannot come to you," she said, lowering her voice. "It
is not proper."
"I
cannot very well talk to you in the open when he"— the man tilted his head
toward the window—"is guarding the door."
"He
is not guarding the door," Elizabeth said hotly, stalking toward the
cowardly man, more aware than ever that he was a fraud. "He is waiting
until we finish our shopping."
"Well,
then." Before Elizabeth knew what had happened, Mr. Fennington had grabbed
her hand and hauled her into the nearby dressing room. "Dearest Elizabeth,
you must speak with me."
The door
clicked closed behind him.
Elizabeth's
eyes narrowed in contempt. "This is most improper. How on earth did you
step inside here without anyone seeing you for that matter?"
He
smiled, drawing nearer, swinging that ugly quizzing glass in his hand. "My
dear, a few coins dropped here and there, and even a shop girl will do anything
I ask."
Elizabeth
backed up against the wall, not liking the way he was staring at her. It was
clear to her now. This man would do anything for her papa's money, even
challenge the wrath of all the Clearbrook brothers to obtain his goal. But he
was a coward, all the same.
"I
have to go," she said, lifting her chin and reaching for the door.
"The ladies will be looking for me."
With a
low laugh, Fennington threw his arms on each side of her head, caging her in.
"The ladies are too busy. That shop girl is showing them every silk and
muslin in the place."
Elizabeth
felt the heat of the room envelop her as his sour breath hit her. She should
never have made this man's acquaintance. She had been stupid. All Milli's stories
of knights in shining armor, begging for her love, were idiotic dreams. Nothing
like that would ever happen to her.
Fennington
seemed to detect her wary feelings and he pressed a rough cheek against hers.
"My dear girl. Have you forgotten how we were to escape to Gretna Green to
be wed?"
Elizabeth
pushed her hands against his chest. "I really should go. They will be
wondering where I am."
"They
are all a bunch of fools, my dear."
Elizabeth
gasped when he pressed a heavy hand to her cheek.
"I
cannot marry you," she said coolly.
He
cupped her chin in a firm hold, his eyes daring her to refuse him. "And
pray, why not?"
"Papa
has made an agreement with Lord Stephen Clearbrook. The announcement has been
sent. You must have seen it."
"Clearbrook,
bah!" He jerked out a flask and took a swig.
Elizabeth
slipped from his hold, eyeing the quizzing glass clanking against the metal
container. "Good gracious, Mr. Fennington, are you foxed?"
"I
am not foxed. Just a man in love." He grabbed hold of her waist, pushing her
firmly against the wall.
"Mr.
Fennington, please!"
"Very
well, Elizabeth, if you insist." Before Elizabeth had time to think, the
man closed his slimy lips over her mouth.
Stephen
wanted to wring the girl's neck. "So your sister has believed all this time
that I wanted to poison Lady Odette?"
Milli
shrugged. "Poison is not the exact word I would use."
"Giving
a lady a concoction that could give her a rash and kill her is what I consider
poison, young lady."
He took
hold of Milli's elbow and escorted her to his carriage. "Get inside."
Letting out a mumbled curse, he turned to his thickset footman. "Keep an
eye on her for me, Henry. If she leaves this carriage, you no longer have a
position."
The man
crossed one beefy arm over the other. "Yes, m'lord."
Chapter Ten
S
tephen stalked into the dressmaker's
shop. The chime tinkled above the door as the shopgirl ushered him toward the
back where his mother and Jane were conversing with the owner.
"No,
I do believe a light blue silk with a delicate lace about the arm would be
quite the thing for her."
"Mother."
The lady
glanced over her shoulder. "What do you think, Stephen? Light blue or
forest green for Elizabeth's ball gown?"
"Light
blue," he snapped without needing to think twice. "Speaking of
Elizabeth, where is she?" he asked impatiently.
His
mother pursed her lips in concern. "Why, I have no idea. Jane, dear, did
you see where she went?"
The
young duchess frowned. "She left the fitting room, but I didn't see her
after that. Maybe she is with Milli."
The thought
that Elizabeth had left took hold of Stephen's heart and squeezed.
"Millicent is in the carriage," he said, a rush of blood drumming to
his head, "and as far as I can see, Elizabeth is nowhere in this blasted
shop."
"Perhaps
she returned to one of the fitting rooms," the dressmaker said, her smile
faltering at the lord's dark face.
"Was
she being fitted for another gown, then?" Stephen asked, almost blushing
at the thought of barging in on his intended.
"I
do not believe so. There's no need to worry. But since her sister ventured
outside for a breath of air, perhaps—"
Before
the lady could finish, the bell above the door jingled. Milli burst into the
shop with Henry attached to her sleeve. "My lord!"
Excusing
himself from the ladies, Stephen gritted his teeth as he approached the
red-faced footman. "Henry?"
"Said
her sister was in trouble, my lord. Started screaming like a banshee, she did.
Heads were turning and I ain't one to hold the ladies against their will."
Stephen
nodded a smile in the direction of the two ladies who were thankfully far
enough away, unable to hear the conversation. His slight gesture let them know
the situation was nothing to concern themselves with.
A moment
later he glared back at Milli as she dragged him across the shop.
"What
is it?" he hissed.
"He
was hiding over there," she said in a hoarse whisper.
"Who?"
Stephen snapped, his patience all but gone.
Milli
slapped his arm. "Mr. Fennington, of course! Who else?"
“Fennington?”
Stephen snatched Milli’s wrist and tilted a steely gaze toward Henry. “Return
her to the carriage, and this time, do not listen to a single word she has to
say. If she screams, tell anybody that asks she is as mad as the king.
Henry
nodded.
Milli
stomped her foot. "I tell you, I saw him!"
A muscle
twitched dangerously in Stephen's cheek as he crossed his arms over his chest.
"And why did you not tell me this earlier?"
"Well,"
she chewed her lip, "I thought perhaps you could rescue Lizzie after a
time, you see. Like one of those knights who comes to rescue the princess. If
Mr. Fennington had his way with Lizzie, you could call the man out and be the
hero."
Every
muscle in Stephen's body went taut. If Mr. Fennington had his way? For some
idiotic reason Stephen was beginning to believe Milli's story. It was that
flash of worry in her gray eyes that did it. In one swift move, he picked her
up and shoved her toward Henry. "If Fennington has hurt her, you will not
be able to sit down for a year, young lady."
Milli's
eyes filled with tears. "I am fourteen, don't you know? You cannot do
that. And, well, the man is such a complete idiot, I daresay he won't do
anything at all except wave that monstrous quizzing glass about his head and
tell Lizzie how much he loves her and what not."
She
leaned forward, her eyes flashing. "But I thought one good blow from you
and Lizzie would swoon at your feet."
Stephen
fought the urge to take the girl over his knee. "Where are they?"
Milli
pointed toward the fitting room. "I think they are in there."
Stephen
exchanged glances with his footman. "Forget what I said earlier. Bar the
blasted door after I go in."
Milli's
face lit with awe as she was dropped from the footman's hold. "Is it to be
a mill then? It will be the first real fight I have ever seen. Of course, in
the Tragedy of—"
"Millicent!"
Stephen threw the girl his iciest glare. "If you have any sense at all,
hold your tongue. You are to stay over there with my mother and the duchess or
I'll have your hide. And do not tell them a thing about Fennington. They are
searching the patterns as we speak, thinking your sister outside for a breath
of air or perhaps trying on another gown."
Milli
frowned. "You think he will hurt Lizzie?"
Stephen
did not answer. He strode toward the small dressing room hidden behind the
shelves of material. The memories of Fennington manhandling his sister in
another shop invaded his mind. He felt his control slipping. The thought of
that maniac's hands on Elizabeth sent his blood pumping.
But the
sudden notion that Milli was hamming him about the entire scene like some Greek
tragedy did cross his mind. Instead of flinging the dressing room door open
like a madman, he knocked. "Elizabeth?"
When no
one answered, formality gave way to instinct and he swung open the door. His
gaze fell upon Elizabeth's white face. Fennington was directly behind her, that
monstrous quizzing glass hanging between two white fingers.
Stephen
had two disturbing questions bouncing about in his brain. One, was Elizabeth
running away with this man? And two, was she afraid of him catching her with
her lover? He tried to banish the incriminating thoughts from his mind as he
glared at Fennington, whose face had turned the color of curdled milk.
Yet the
man had the audacity to raise that stupid quizzing glass and stare through it
as if he were at a dinner party. "Alas, my lord, we meet again."
Stephen
strode forward, touching the lady's shocked features with the ends of his
fingers. "Elizabeth?"
Wary
blue eyes locked with his. "Do not hurt him," she whispered
hesitantly. "I beg you."
She must
have seen the danger flashing in his eyes for he dropped her chin, his hands
growing stiff at his sides. So she cared for the man, did she? "Get in the
carriage, Elizabeth."
She
frowned and looked back at Mr. Fennington, regret shimmering her eyes. She blinked,
drawing her chin upward. "I am not leaving you two alone."
Heaven
help him! She was worse than Milli. "Get in the carriage." Stephen
ground out the words, barely checking himself from throwing her over his
shoulder and taking her there himself.
She opened
her mouth to reply, but he roughly drew her toward him and kissed her instead.
It was a kiss of danger and intrigue. A kiss that said she was his, and not
Fennington's. A kiss that left her breathless, weakening her defenses. As she
grew slack in his arms, he directed her toward the door.
Stephen
gave her one last glance before turning back to Fennington. She was his, and
he was not about to let her go. She would love him if it took an entire
lifetime.
"How
romantic," Fennington said, pushing himself off the wall as Elizabeth
exited the room. "Too bad she prefers me instead."
That was
the last thing the man said before Stephen drilled his fist into Fennington's
face.
Two
weeks later, Elizabeth sat in her room readying herself for her engagement ball.
She frowned as she stared into the looking glass. Since the incident at the
dressmaker's, she had avoided Lord Stephen at all costs. To him, his kiss had
branded her like a prized horse.
That's
all she was to him, a prize that had been won. A sack of money that sealed his
future. Yet she had to admit, for a few maddening seconds she had felt wanted,
cherished, even loved.
But she
was a fool to think of love because Lord Stephen had avoided her too, giving
her only a polite hello and good-bye at meal times and barely engaging in
conversation even when prompted. He left for the club every evening and returned
home after she retired.
The
entire family felt the tension, but their futile attempts at bringing the
couple together had made things far worse instead of better.
A few
days earlier, William Shelby had been called out of town on business. He would
not be at the ball to stand up with her.
Elizabeth
felt alone and abandoned. What would her future hold here? How could she attend
the engagement ball? How could she not? Mr. Fennington was obviously no longer
part of her plan. And although her mind had been working furiously to find a
way out of her predicament, it was to no avail.
"He
will sweep you off your feet and into the gardens, Lizzie."
Milli
had not stopped her tirade of romantic dreams since she entered five minutes
ago. It was the last thing Elizabeth needed right now, because whether she
wanted it or not, she was falling in love with Lord Stephen Clearbrook.
Fennington
meant nothing to her now. He was a weasel, just as Lord Stephen had informed
her. However, she would never tell the handsome lord that he had been correct
in his assessment of her former suitor. Her pride was already at a low point.
Besides, had she not already decided the kiss at the dressmaker's shop was one
of ownership, not love?
"And
then he will kiss you, Lizzie, and you will melt into his arms and run off
together into the moonlight."
Elizabeth
rolled her eyes at her sister's swoon. Milli pulled a strand of hair from her
forehead as she drew in an audible sigh.
There
was a knock on the door and Milli jumped off the bed.
"Do
you mind if I come in?" Lady Emily peeked into the room, looking radiant
in a lavender gown.
"Not
at all," Elizabeth said, guiding the woman to the chair near the hearth.
"But if you wanted to see me, I could have come to you. You should rest as
much as you can."
Lady
Emily smiled. "It has been three weeks since I gave birth. Besides, I had
to get away from my husband for a few minutes, at least. Can you believe he
thinks I'm as fragile as a china teapot? But in truth, I believe he misses his
little girl. Gabrielle, his daughter from his previous marriage, is staying
with his aunt in the country. He was to fetch her last week, but the poor thing
had the sniffles." The lady glanced into the fire and sighed. "I do
miss her, too, but with the new babe being so small, we must take every
precaution."
Elizabeth
sensed the lady wanted to tell her more. She looked up at Milli, tilting a
glance toward the door. "Millicent, do you have something to do?"
Milli
frowned. "Oh, very well, I'll leave you two to talk about men, but I will
return, never fear."
Both
ladies laughed as Milli withdrew from the room.
Emily
held out her hands toward Elizabeth. "I know I have said this a hundred
times, but my dear Elizabeth, I can never thank you enough for what you did for
me that night."
Elizabeth
blushed, feeling the warmth of Emily's grip. "I was only doing what anyone
would do in that situation. The doctor came and all was well."
The lady
shook her head. "Oh, you silly girl. That is not true. You were
marvelously calm throughout everything. However, that is beside the point. I am
here on a mission." She dropped Elizabeth's hands and bade her to pull up
a chair beside her. "I am here to help you capture my brother's eye and
his heart."
Elizabeth
stared back, too shocked to speak.
"I
know it is a marriage of convenience you are to enter into, but I can see my
brother is bordering on, well, let's just say, something else?"
Elizabeth's
eyes widened. "Something else?" Was there a slim possibility the lady
was speaking of love?
"You
are a smart woman, Elizabeth, but the Clearbrook men are as stubborn as old
hens. Still, a woman in love might be able to bait one of them to come out of
their nest of safety, if you know what I mean."
Elizabeth
managed a smile. "You are too optimistic. Your brother does not love me.
He only wants my father's money."
Emily's
gaze did not waver. "You are wrong about the money. Not Stephen. He could
have gone to my brothers for a loan. No. Marrying you involved something much
more complicated. But that is neither here nor there. I have called the maid to
fetch the scissors. You will have to let me get to work."
Elizabeth
backed up. "Now, Emily, let's not be too hasty."
Emily
laughed. "Hasty? Goodness, Elizabeth, it is not as if I wish to cut off
your head. Only a snip here and there and you will look like an angel. Mama has
a taste for clothes, but when it comes to hair, she doesn't know a thing. That
French sweep on your head does not do you justice. We need to shape your locks
about your face, accentuate your eyes."