“Thank you for that,” Anthony replied dryly.
“Come on, old chap. You have found a wonderful woman to replace Diana. Surely that is something to celebrate?”
“Rein in your horses, Felton. You are galloping far too quickly.”
Felton sighed. “Have it your way. But if you are not serious about this woman, then I would request your permission to pursue her myself.”
Anthony felt a rush of jealousy and anger. There was no way in damnation that Felton would pursue Elizabeth!
He looked at his friend sharply. "You do so and you are a marked man."
Felton held up in hands in surrender, laughing. “I said it in jest, Anthony. I merely wished to see how serious you were about her. Perhaps you should not play around and actually start to earnestly court her.”
“So says the man who cannot bear the thought of commitment.”
“Miss Ramsbury will be a welcome change for you.”
Perhaps Felton was right. It would be best if he made his courtship intentions clear to everyone. However, everything else that his friend said would not do. Elizabeth was not a replacement, but a lure. A lure that he would enjoy courting about London.
“There is an opera tomorrow. I think I might take her there.”
“Would Miss Ramsbury enjoy that? I distinctly remember Diana yawning throughout the last one you took her to, complaining about the lack of life in the music.”
“Miss Ramsbury is not like Diana, Felton. She enjoys music.”
“Well, you have something in common there. You are a deft hand at the pianoforte.”
“Hmm.”
The more he thought about the opera, the more he liked the idea. Elizabeth would appreciate it. In fact, he had a strong feeling that she would love it. She had mentioned that it was her birthday soon. This would be his early present to her. With her on his arm, it would be clear to all that he was courting her. The tongues would start wagging, and news would soon reach Diana in Paris.
“How fast is Mrs Clothilde with the needle, Felton?”
“Faster than any woman that I know. Why?”
"I am in need of a beautiful dress tomorrow."
“Do you plan on buying Miss Ramsbury a dress?”
“Yes.”
He needed her to look ravishing. That would invoke greater jealousy within his beloved.
Chapter 8
Elizabeth abruptly woke from her sleep, sitting straight up in bed as she tried to deduce whether or not she had dreamt the entire meeting with Anthony. She got out of bed, immediately going to the water urn and pouring some water into a porcelain wash basin. She gave her face a good splash before making her way to the window to air-dry. Elizabeth made sure not to make her position obvious to the people who walked below – to be seen in her nightdress would not be something that her father would wish to hear of his daughter doing. The streets were already bustling with activity. She noted chimney sweeps covered in soot, smartly dressed men, and a woman selling a drink that many were lining up for. She strained to hear just what it was, coming away with the word 'salop'.
She had heard of this drink, but had yet to taste it. She wondered if she could send a servant to get her some.
But that would cut into her time of solitude. Something that she was not prepared to do. She shook her head, deciding against it. Salop will have to be drunk another time. Elizabeth continued to watch the ever-changing interesting scene below her. Bakers carried bread on wooden trays, enticing passers-by with the fresh, hot smell. Pedlars promised tasty cakes although she was quite sure that they would not rival Mrs Black's cakes, their cook back home.
This was certainly different to what she was accustomed to. Everything seemed quite lively, from the activities of the people to the smell of the place.
She still preferred the countryside, but London offered an excitement that she was coming to enjoy. Or perhaps it had more to do with the baron than London itself. The clock downstairs chimed an hour which, judging by the light outside, might be seven in the morning. Breakfast would be at eight, giving her ample time to digest all that had happened thus far.
She wondered if Anthony had decided to abort his plan. It was rather an elaborate one that could backfire most horrendously. Then again, it could work out beautifully. Life was not without risks, that much was certain. Anthony was likely a man accustomed to taking them. She would not have come up with such an idea.
It took a certain level of confidence, did it not? One had to be confident in order to believe that such a plan could be successful.
But she had agreed to it. Did that mean that she was confident? She laughed. More likely desperate.
As the street grew busier, she thought it wise to move away from the window and get ready for the morning meal. Elizabeth did not wish to call a maid to bring her some warmed water, so she settled with having a light wash of her hands and feet with the cold water in the washbasin. It was not altogether terrible as England was warming up. Summer had begun some weeks ago, the sun giving the country much-needed warmth. Elizabeth preferred spring and autumn, but the summer season held its own charm as well. It did not take her long to dress, picking a light, white dress with a flower embroidery along the bodice and the edge of the short sleeves. She was tempted to go without shoes, but as this was London, she thought it better to not commit a faux pas at her aunt and uncle's expense.
Although she did not suppose they would be overly concerned. They were a lively pair who did not seem to exhibit any of the severity that many people of their age seemed to. Elizabeth thought they would find her lack of shoes rather amusing. However, she doubted that Cecilia would. To her, image was everything.
A quick plait and tuck of her hair and she was done. It was not particularly stylish, but as she did not intend to venture out of the house, it would do.
Elizabeth left her room, knowing without a doubt that she would be questioned about the baron. She had rehearsed a few answers, hoping that would satisfy the curiosity of her aunt and uncle.
She took a deep breath and went downstairs.
*
Elizabeth's food was beginning to grow cold. Aunt Deborah and Uncle Noah had not ceased to speak of the ball, firing all manner of questions at her. They appeared to be just as excited as Cecilia, who was still eager to find out more about the Baron of Bedford.
“My dear,” her aunt exclaimed. “Who knew that you would catch the attention of the most handsome man at the ball, the Baron of Bedford? My goodness!”
“The man of the moment,” her uncle added. “I always said that our Elizabeth was a special girl. Imagine, the baron himself.”
They made it seem as though Anthony was some type of god who was above everyone else. Yes, he bore a title. But he was not a duke or an earl. Those titles sounded far more auspicious to her. Not that she was one for titles, but she thought that a baron would not attract as much attention as a higher title. She was quite sure there was a duke at the ball, even an earl. Why did no one speak about them?
“Lord Cavendish is a normal man like any other.”
“So speaks the woman who spent an alarming amount of time with him,” Cecilia said. “I see it has gone to your head, for you do not seem to understand the magnitude of what has taken place.”
Elizabeth sighed. "Why must you over-emphasise every little thing, Ceci? Is he a god that I should worship him? Is he a hero that I should honour him?"
"He is the Baron of Bedford," Cecilia insisted. "One of the richest men in the country. The name that lingers on the lips of every warm-blooded woman in England. Did you not see his chiselled good looks? His physique?"
“Cecilia! You are to be wed to another,” she scolded. “This is hardly a suitable speech for one in your position.”
“Your sister is right, Cecilia,” said Uncle Noah. “Best you keep those sentiments for that young man of yours.”
Cecilia turned a bright pink. "I merely wished for Elizabeth to understand just who the baron is. It was not my intentio
n to appear amorous of him, for I love Percy with my whole heart."
Aunt Deborah reached across the table to pat a suddenly tearful Cecilia's hand.
"Oh dear, no one is implying that you do not love Percy. But if one did not know you, they may misconstrue what you were meaning to say. It is easy for a rumour to start – I do not think that either you nor Percy would appreciate a rumour of you batting your eyelashes at Lord Cavendish."
“I would never do such a thing!”
“Calm down, Ceci,” said Elizabeth. “We all know that. All we are saying is that you should be far more mindful of your words when in public. Now, let us eat our meal, for I am famished.”
No sooner had she closed her mouth around some buttery egg that they started up their subject of the baron once more.
“Elizabeth, we are simply delighted that you were able to catch the interest of a suitor so early in the season,” said Aunt Deborah. “You are lucky to find romance. And with such a wealthy man.”
Cecilia, who had recovered from her little wobble, joined in the conversation with enthusiasm. “We could have a double wedding, Eliza. Just think of what our neighbours would say.”
Elizabeth looked at her sister in surprise. She called me Eliza! The last time that she did so was years ago when she still looked up to her as an older sister. Just for that, Elizabeth would have been happy to join in the conversation, if it all did not bore her so much.
“I hear he earns a yearly income of fifteen thousand pounds,” said her uncle. “Could you imagine such a sum? That is not counting the true value of his entire wealth.”
Aunt Deborah chuckled gleefully. “Our dear Elizabeth would never want for anything.”
“I do not want for anything at this moment, Aunt Deborah. I am quite content.”
“Oh, Elizabeth,” Cecilia began. “You cannot possibly –”
A polite knock at the door stopped her mid-sentence. Thank goodness. A maid came into the room carrying a beautiful-looking box.
“A footman has just dropped this off, Marm.”
The young girl handed it to Aunt Deborah, curtsied, and left the room. Elizabeth's aunt turned the box in her hands, her expression an interesting mixture of a smile and a frown.
“I wonder who this is from? The box is rather pretty, do you not think so?”
“Is there a note?” Cecilia asked.
Aunt Deborah searched the outside of the box once more, finding a note beneath the elaborate ribbon on the lid. A smile lit up the older woman's face as she read it. Elizabeth could not see what it said, but when she saw her aunt's gaze turn to her, she had the strongest feeling that the box was for her.
“This appears to be yours, Elizabeth.”
“Indeed?”
Her aunt nodded and passed the box to her. It was fairly heavy and quite ornate, surprising her. Who would have sent her a gift? Anthony. Who else could afford to spend pounds on such an ornate box? It would be perfect to store her music sheets in.
“I believe that I know who it is from,” said Cecilia. “The baron is obviously quite interested in you.”
Why did Anthony choose to send this to her now? There was only one way to find out. She took the note, an involuntary smile stretching her lips as she read it.
A beautiful dress for a beautiful maiden. Would you do me the honour of
accompanying me to the opera this evening?
Lord Cavendish
The opera? She had ever been to the opera before. But she had always wanted to go.
“What does it say, Elizabeth?” asked Cecilia.
What on earth had prompted Anthony to do such a thing? Oh yes, he intended on showing her off to his friends. Word would reach Diana soon enough thereafter. Remembering this brought her spirits down. Do not be silly, Elizabeth, this plan has been orchestrated to bring Diana back to him and free me from the bondage of matrimony.
“Eliza!” Cecilia shouted once more.
“Do calm down, Cecilia,” scolded Aunt Deborah. “Let Elizabeth speak in her own time. Dear, what does the note say?”
“Lord Cavendish has invited me to the opera this evening.”
“But what is in the box?” Cecilia asked.
“A dress.”
“A dress?” exclaimed her aunt. “Do open it, Elizabeth. It must be quite extravagant.”
Elizabeth obeyed her aunt and removed the lid, pausing when she caught the first glimpse of the dress. Not able to wait a moment longer, both her aunt and sister came to her, gasping when they saw the creation. Cecilia excitedly tapped her on the shoulder.
“Do not just sit there, Eliza, take it out!”
But Elizabeth did not really want to. Cecilia grew quite impatient with her for she picked up the first part of the dress and held it against herself, her eyes wide with awe.
“Have you ever seen such a beautiful dress, Aunt Deborah?”
The soft white of the dress was a contrast to the gold embroidery that started where her knees would be. The slight puff of the sleeves tapered above the elbow area with soft ruffles that ran across the top of the bodice. It was sheer muslin, perfect for the summer weather. The correct undergarments would have to be worn to protect her dignity.
“I see a robe, Elizabeth,” her aunt said. “Let us see it.”
Elizabeth carefully lifted out the burgundy-coloured open robe. It too revealed the same gold patterns along the edges and featured a train that would trail beautifully as she walked. It was quite heavy, as there were little stones sewn into the patterns, adding to the overall effect of the dress.
“Oh, this will look lovely on you, Elizabeth!” her aunt gushed. “Look at the quality of it all. Oh my. This baron must indeed be serious about you.”
Elizabeth did not comment but looked into the box when she noticed something glinting in the sunlight streaming in from the windows. She pulled out a large brooch with a clear stone in the centre, surrounded by red gems set in gold. She simply stared at it as it sat on her palm, not quite believing that something so exquisite would be worn by her. But it is all for show, is it not? Cecilia gasped when she finally saw it.
“That must have cost the baron the moon and the sun.”
“May I?” her uncle asked, holding out his hand.
Elizabeth handed it to him, her hand feeling lighter as the brooch left her hand.
“This must have cost a pretty penny,” he remarked. “He has acted rather lightly by sending this without guard.”
Elizabeth found herself torn between being happy and annoyed. On the one hand, she was going to an opera house, and on the other, it was all for show.
I should not be bothered by it all, but I would be lying to myself if I did not admit to the tiniest bit of jealousy.
It seemed that the feeling of annoyance won. “It must be wonderful to possess so much wealth that you do not care to protect such a valuable piece of jewellery.”
She knew that she sounded somewhat bitter, but she could not hide it either. However, no one else seemed to notice the tone in her voice.
“My dear,” said her aunt. “All this could be yours if you played your cards correctly.”
“That is how your aunt won me over,” her uncle laughed. “With a game of cards.”
Lords to Be Enamored With: A Historical Regency Romance Collection Page 41