by Lucy Adams
Lord Montrose made a noise in the back of his throat, which Eliza could not quite make out as to whether it was one of disbelief or one of agreement.
“I did see his gaze rest on you a good deal at the dinner table,” Lord Montrose continued, his voice becoming a little darker. “You yourself did not notice, I suppose?”
Eliza shook her head, refusing to allow him to know the truth. “Of course I did not,” she stated, decisively. “I was much too caught up with the conversation that flowed around the table. You certainly managed to keep all of our guests very well entertained, Lord Montrose!” She tried to push a lightness into her voice that she did not feel, praying that the compliment would be enough to discourage him from considering Avondale’s behavior any longer.
“I do have a way with words,” Lord Montrose admitted, sounding pleased. “Yes, I did manage to capture almost everyone’s attention, did I not? I am glad that you noticed, Lady Eliza.”
Eliza, who had not given him leave to address her as such, frowned heavily.
“You have eyes only for me, I think,” Lord Montrose continued, patting her hand with his free one as it rested on his arm. “That is precisely the way it should be. The Duke of Avondale may look at you as much as he likes, but I shall take pleasure in knowing that it is not to him that you have given your promise, but to me.”
Hesitating for a moment, Eliza chose her words carefully before she responded. “I have not given you any specific promise, Lord Montrose,” she said, slowly. “I have accepted your courtship, of course, but that is all.”
Much to her frustration, Lord Montrose simply laughed at this, shaking his head as though she were being deliberately foolish.
“Come, come now, Lady Wells. You know very well that my intentions were entirely honorable when I sought to court you. You were fully aware at the time that I have every intention of marrying you and making you my wife. I can hardly imagine that you would turn your back on such a thing now!” He looked down at her and grinned. “Have we not already discussed your concerns over my character and the like? Have I not already absolved you of such worries?”
Trying to think of a suitable response, Eliza cleared her throat delicately. “You have ensured that I no longer entertain such concerns, yes,” she replied, knowing that her questions over Lord Montrose’s character were not only present in her mind but growing steadily. “But that does not mean –”
“And if, as you say, there is nothing that might suggest you have any affection for the duke, then there is nothing to prevent us from moving forward in our courtship.”
Eliza stopped walking, pulling her hand from Lord Montrose’s arm. “What can you mean, Lord Montrose?” Her heart was pounding furiously in her chest, praying silently that he was not about to propose, not when she had not had the time nor the opportunity to ask him about what the duke had heard. She was not ready to accept him, not sure of her own heart. Avondale still had her love, she was quite certain of that, but whether or not she could truly ever forgive him for what had occurred, whether or not she could rebuild the trust that had been so brutally shattered, was quite another thing. As for Lord Montrose, Eliza was beginning to fear that she was only seeing a façade that the gentleman wore for her to see. If what Avondale had said was quite true, if what Lord Franks had said about Lord Montrose’s past behavior was still relevant at this present time, then Eliza knew she could not accept him. Even though she had given him her assurances that she was more than willing to be courted by him, even though, as he had said, she had known that he intended to propose, she could not accept his hand in marriage quite yet.
Lord Montrose ran his eyes from the top of her head to her feet, before allowing his gaze to become languorous as it drifted slowly back up her form to her face. Eliza went hot all over, unable to imagine what he was thinking and certainly unused to being looked at in such a way.
“Lady Wells,” Lord Montrose began, grandly, as though he were about to offer her a wonderful gift. “I have taken the liberty of ensuring that our future is quite secure. You shall be my bride and I shall be your husband.”
Eliza swallowed hard, her hands beginning to tremble as she looked, uncomprehendingly, into Lord Montrose’s face. “What can you mean, Lord Montrose?” she asked, her voice thin and wispy. “You have not yet proposed to me and I certainly have not accepted!”
Lord Montrose laughed again, the sound setting Eliza’s teeth on edge. “But, of course, Lady Wells, in knowing that you would accept me, I have already begun preparations for our wedding day.” He tipped his head and smiled at her, as if she should be as delighted as he. “You will find the announcement in the society papers this very afternoon.”
It was as though a hole had opened up below her feet and pulled her under, burying her deep within, earth and dust and sand filling her mouth and nose. She could not breathe, darkness creeping in at the edges of her vision as she struggled to make sense of what had been said.
“I confess that Lady Whitehaven may be somewhat displeased with me for not speaking either to her or your brother first, but I have written to the new Lord Whitehaven to seek his permission and I do not think he shall refuse.”
Closing her eyes tightly, Eliza dragged air into her burning lungs, determined that she would not collapse where she stood. She could not quite make sense of what Lord Montrose was saying, slowly beginning to understand that her future had been taken directly out of her hands and placed firmly into his. By his own determination, he had moved to make their engagement known to all of society, before he had even asked her for her hand in marriage. If it was in the society papers already, then she had no opportunity to refuse him, no chance to pull the news away before all of London knew of it.
Avondale will read it.
“Do be careful, Lady Wells!” Lord Montrose sounded a trifle concerned as he grasped her elbow, making Eliza aware that she had been swaying where she stood. Lord Montrose chuckled, his concern gone in a moment. “Overwhelmed with happiness. I quite understand. Come now, I shall return you to the carriage and take you back to your dear mama.” He held her arm tightly and began to turn around so they might walk together. Eliza went with him, stumbling slightly, unable to find anything to say in response to this dreadful news. What could she do? She might berate Lord Montrose for his hastiness, for his improper way of doing such an important thing, but the announcement would still be in the paper and all of London society would still read it. To break of the engagement now might be disastrous, not only for her but for all of her sisters and cousin also.
Lord Montrose, it seemed, had everything tied up quite neatly, and Eliza was struggling to see a way out.
Chapter Nine
“Do come in, Northgate.”
Jeremy, whilst glad to see his uncle, could not help but feel a twinge of guilt over his lack of progress in finding out who had treated Rebecca so terribly. He had managed to reacquaint himself with society, yes, and in doing so had picked up a few new acquaintances as well as reviving previous ones, but nothing of substance had come to his attention. Of course, he had asked a few questions and done his very best to try and find out who Rebecca might have been personally acquainted with during her time in London, but it had been some years ago and not very many people remembered her.
Not that Rebecca had not been beautiful or the like but, as far as Jeremy remembered, she had always been fairly quiet. His uncle had told him, back when Jeremy had first come to know of Rebecca and her situation, that Rebecca had never sought to push herself forward in society, had never wanted to garner the attention of any gentleman. Therefore, whoever had sought her out must have cajoled her, encouraged her and slowly managed to entwine her heart with his – whilst all the while wanting to seduce her for his own pleasures.
“You are looking well this afternoon, Avondale.”
Jeremy managed a quick smile as he offered his uncle a brandy. “Thank you, Uncle,” he stated, wondering if his look of contentment came from what had occurred between hi
mself and Eliza only a few days ago. He was somewhere between a new found confidence and utter despair, not able to surmise what she was thinking and certainly not what she intended to do and therefore forced simply to wait in hopeful agony.
“You have been enjoying society thus far, then?”
Jeremy laughed and sat back down. “No, indeed not,” he replied, earnestly. “I have found the company of my peers to be a little lacking, I am afraid. Although I have been able to reacquaint myself with Lady Whitehaven and her daughters, which has brought me some kind of relief.” He allowed himself another smile, his mind continually fixed on Eliza. “There is, perhaps, a little hope.”
His uncle looked surprised and did not smile in return. “I see,” he said, slowly. “That is….good, Avondale.”
A little confused as to why his uncle did not seem to be as delighted over this as Jeremy had thought he might be, Jeremy shrugged inwardly and sipped his brandy, not allowing himself to be dragged back into desperation and worry. He could have told his uncle about how he and Eliza had spoken in the gardens and how she had accepted what he had said about Lord Montrose, but he chose, for the moment, to keep it to himself. There was always the chance that Eliza would not want to see him again, would not want to listen to his explanations about Rebecca and what had occurred thereafter, but every time his mind would tug in that direction, Jeremy would recall the kiss and something like fire would shoot up in his chest, sparking his confidence and allowing him the opportunity to hope.
Having considered it many times over, Jeremy was now quite convinced that Eliza had kissed him in return, even if had only been for a moment. It was that knowledge that brought him such courage, that hint of a promise that continued to encourage his mind to believe that she might yet return to him. Nothing could take that from him now, he was quite determined.
Lord Northgate cleared his throat, a frank look in his eyes. “You have heard about Napoleon, yes?”
Jeremy lifted one eyebrow, surprised by the sudden change in conversation. “Indeed,” he said, slowly. “He is close to defeat, it seems. By 1816, everyone is hopeful that we shall be freed from fighting for good.” He studied his uncle carefully. “Although there is always the chance that Napoleon may yet continue to fight back against his impending defeat.”
His uncle nodded slowly. “There is a new sense of freedom in the air,” he said, softly. “It fills all of London, I think. It breathes new life and hope into this world.” A small sigh escaped him, his eyes becoming sad as they held Jeremy’s. “Perhaps I have been wrong to encourage you to find the truth about Rebecca’s past,” he continued, his words filling Jeremy with astonishment. “Mayhap I should have asked you to allow the past to remain as it is. I cannot see what good will come of it now.”
Jeremy stared at his uncle, more astonished than ever to hear this from the gentleman he considered to be a dear, dear relative. He could still remember just how distraught his uncle had been when he had first told Jeremy of Rebecca, how much grief had filled his very being as he had spoken of her situation. His uncle had never been able to discover who had treated his daughter so abominably. Not wanting to cause Rebecca any further pain, he had chosen not to pursue the matter any further. Now, however, there was every reason to find out the name of the gentleman, so that some sort of punishment might be wreaked upon him, and the last thing Jeremy had expected to hear from his uncle was that the matter was no longer to be pursued!
Lord Northgate sighed heavily, rubbed his forehead and sat forward. “Avondale, I have other children that I must consider,” he said, slowly. “I have been neglectful of my other daughter due to the fact that my mind has been consistently taken up with thoughts of Rebecca.”
“That can well be understood,” Jeremy replied, quietly, thinking of the months of mourning they had all undertaken. “
“Yes, I suppose it can,” Lord Northgate agreed, setting his glass of brandy aside. “But there is a choice before me now and I think I can no longer see any clear reason to pursue the matter.”
Jeremy shook his head, frowning. “Surely it is to ensure that the gentleman will not do such a thing again?”
“But what can be done?” his uncle asked, throwing up his hands. “If I were to call the gentleman out, then news would traverse through society and my daughter, Beatrice, would be tinged with scandal.”
“The consequences of this gentleman’s behavior would not have to be made known to all of society,” Jeremy replied, finding the idea of allowing the gentleman, whoever he was, to be entirely freed of any consequences to be unthinkable. “We might insist on secrecy and yet, somehow, find a way to ensure –”
“No.” Lord Northgate shook his head. “What good would come of it, Avondale?” He held Jeremy’s gaze, looking at him for a long moment before continuing. “Besides, I think that you have a good many other things on your mind, do you not?”
Jeremy hesitated, the vision of Eliza floating in front of his eyes. “I have some matters to consider, yes.”
“You may have more to consider than you think,” his uncle replied, carefully. “I take it you have not read the society papers this afternoon?”
Jeremy, who was not at all inclined towards reading such things, shook his head. “I confess that I take very little interest in such things, Northgate.” A slight tremor of worry ran up his spine as he looked at his uncle keenly. “For what reason might you suggest that I read them?”
His uncle rose, picked up his brandy and threw back the rest in one smooth motion. Then he walked towards Jeremy, settling one hand on his shoulder. “I would leave you now, Avondale,” he said, quietly, confusing Jeremy even more. “Consider what I have said in light of what you will soon learn. Mayhap you will find yourself caught up with matters of greater importance than the darkness of the past.” He pressed Jeremy’s shoulder again before walking quickly towards the door, leaving Jeremy in such a state of confusion that he did not quite manage to rise to his feet before the drawing room door closed behind his uncle.
Anxiety began to furrow into his heart as he finally got to his feet, worrying about what it was he would find within the papers. Why had his uncle not wanted to remain with him whilst he read whatever it was? Would his reaction truly be so visceral that it could not be witnessed? Or was it that his uncle believed that Jeremy would need the quietness of solitude in order to consider his next steps?
“The papers,” Jeremy muttered to himself, shoving one hand through his hair as he looked aimlessly about the room. “Where might they be?”
The study, of course.
Hurrying towards the door and trying to keep his fears at bay, Jeremy quickly made his way towards the study, the sound of his heart, to his ears, seeming to bounce off the walls that surrounded him. His hands clenched into fists with tension, a spiraling fear growing within his mind. What would he find? Surely it could not be anything to do with Eliza?
A trickle of sweat ran down his spine as he pushed open the study door, allowing it to swing closed softly behind him. Hurrying to his desk, he set aside the correspondence that was waiting for him, picking up the papers that lay beneath. The society papers usually went into the fire but today, Jeremy picked it up and laid it out on his desk, with an almost reverential air. Pressing his lips together, he began to look over each and every page, dread beginning to fill his entire being as he looked to see what his uncle had meant.
And then, he found it.
“No,” he whispered, reading the short announcement that declared that Lady Eliza Wells was to tie herself to Lord Montrose in matrimony.
Weakness rifled through him, his mind beginning to spin as he sank down into his chair, his eyes still fixed on those words. This could not be. How could Eliza agree to marry such a gentleman when Jeremy himself had told her of what he had overheard? It did not make sense! Eliza had always been sensible and level-headed and he had been quite certain that she had heard and understood everything he had been trying to tell her about Lord Montrose that night
of the dinner party.
“Eliza,” he whispered, the word burning his lips as he spoke her name aloud. She could not be his, it seemed. All hope had been crushed, broken and splintered under Lord Montrose’s heel. Lord Montrose had been victorious whereas he had been thoroughly defeated. Eliza did not trust him, it seemed. Eliza no longer gave any weight to his words, choosing not to consider them and instead accept the offer of Lord Montrose’s hand in marriage. She would no longer be Lady Eliza Wells but Lady Montrose, becoming so far out of reach that Jeremy knew all hope was lost. She would live with Lord Montrose in his estate. There might be children. She would build a life for herself with that fellow and he would remain at home, filled with nothing more but bitter regret and sadness.
Sinking down into his chair, Jeremy closed his eyes and allowed grief to flood him. It was as though he mourned Eliza even though she still lived. Tears came to his eyes as he buried his face in his arms, resting them on the desk in front of him. How foolish he had been to hope! How ridiculous to believe that Eliza might return to him, might allow her forgiveness to rid her of the pain of the past. No. He had done her too much of an injury, it seemed. Even if she had kissed him in return, it had been a moment of weakness. Nothing more than a mistake. Why had he allowed himself to even think that she might forgive him? Why had he fanned the flicker of hope into a bright flame? Now, it was doused completely and Jeremy felt himself all the weaker for it. He was nothing more than a fool. There was nothing for him here any longer. To remain here in London knowing that Eliza was engaged to another, that she would be planning her wedding and that the banns would soon be called was nothing more than agony. He could not linger on. No, he would return home and grieve for her in private.