by Gayle Callen
He’d spent years wondering if they could have more than a friendship, and now she was presenting him with the opportunity. But by risking everything with a false engagement, she would have to live with the results.
He spoke slowly, clearly. “You do understand that in order for our parents to believe this, we won’t be playing this safe.”
The relief in her eyes was obvious. “Then you’ll do it? Be my fiancé?”
“Yes, I’ll do it.”
A frown grew as she understood his previous words. “Safe? I know this can’t be safe. We’re lying to the people we love—to everyone.”
“And you’ve had much practice lying lately.”
“You’ll discover the truth once you’ve helped me. Isn’t that what you want, Peter?”
“I don’t do anything halfway. To convince them we’re serious about marriage, you’ll do everything I say, accept anything I do.” At last, openly, he let his gaze drop languidly down her body. He’d hidden his regard and admiration these last few years; it felt brazen and exciting to show her his desire.
Her eyes went wide as a blush stole across her cheeks. “You don’t need to look at me that way.”
“Then who will believe me?”
He stepped even closer, close enough to feel her breath coming too quickly.
“They’ll think you lost your mind to give up a wealthy, expected marriage with a peer, for someone like me,” he said in a low voice. “The only reason could be a love match. Had you not thought of that? Are you sure you want this?”
He almost didn’t ask that last question, for now he desperately wanted to be close to her, to taste the forbidden before he had to let her go forever.
And he had to discover her secrets.
“I need this,” she whispered, looking up at him.
He gently brushed a curl from her forehead, let his palm linger and cup her cheek. She was trembling but didn’t back down. His courageous Elizabeth. “I’ll touch you often.” His voice grew low and husky. He didn’t try to hide how she affected him. “I’ll look at you as if I never imagined you would grace me with your love.”
She swallowed heavily, unable to hide a wince. “Oh Peter—”
His thumb brushed over her lips. “You have to be better at make-believe than this, Elizabeth.”
At last the dark fire of determination rose again in her eyes, and he was glad of it. Whatever was wrong, she needed to be strong to combat it.
“If you can do this for me, I won’t let you down,” she said almost grimly.
But she was still trembling lightly as he stroked the smooth skin of her cheek, then along her bottom lip.
“No one can see us,” she whispered. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I have to think of you in a new way. I have to let it show in my eyes when I profess my love to your family.”
She gave another wince, but he didn’t let her speak. He put his hands on her upper arms.
“You have to become used to my touch. You’re going to have to look like you wish I could be doing more than holding your hand.”
“Oh, but I couldn’t!” she cried, then looked about the library in guilt, as if someone might have overheard. “Surely that is not done.”
“Have you ever watched two people in love?”
He saw her giving it real thought, knew she’d watched her cousins and her brother fall in love. How could a young lady not envy the love and trust and devotion those couples shared when they looked at each other?
She kept staring at him, and he saw the dawning truth in her eyes. Something had caused her to panic, to make her think of this crazy idea, more risky than any scrape from her youth. But she’d tried so hard not to be that girl anymore. She would back down now and tell him the truth, ask for his help.
But instead she slid her arms about his waist and leaned against him, looking up. He’d never had the chance to hold her, to feel her body against him, though the possibility had tormented his dreams. Her breasts were soft and round and so tempting.
“Is this right, Peter?” she asked tremulously. “You’ll guide me in how to do this? I can’t afford to make any mistakes.”
It was all about her desperation, her problems. He knew that. She’d only viewed him as a friend.
But now he had the chance to make her think otherwise, to see him as a man.
He slid his hands over her shoulders and down the smooth, elegant slope of her back, pulling her even closer against him.
“It’s a good start, Elizabeth,” he said, bending down toward her upturned face.
Her eyes widened the nearer he came, but she didn’t pull away.
He stopped just before their lips met. “But you have so much more to learn.”
Then he stepped away from her, unlocked the door, and walked out of the library.
Chapter 5
Elizabeth stood in the center of the library, feeling dazed and overwhelmed and almost shaky. Everything she’d ever thought about Peter had been turned upside down in the last few days. And tonight—tonight had gone beyond anything she’d imagined.
What had she done?
Suddenly, the door opened, and she whirled about, not knowing whom to expect.
Lucy closed the door and leaned against it, staring at her. “I followed you and Peter. You were alone together! What were you thinking?”
Elizabeth opened her mouth, but nothing would come out. Wringing her hands together, she didn’t know what to reveal, what to hide from her best friend. She felt like bursting into tears, but if she did, she might never be able to stop. She’d been so desperate to escape Thomas’s subtle threats, but already regretted blurting out an engagement. It was too late.
“Oh, Lucy, everything is such a muddle. I’ve been so frightened of being forced to marry a man I didn’t love.”
“Forced to marry?” Lucy cried, rushing forward. “What are you talking about?”
“One of my suitors attempted to . . . be alone with me. And the others look at me too—intently, too disrespectfully. Somehow, I’ve become the prize of the Season.” She was lying about her suitors, but she needed to find a reasonable explanation. And what if there were more men who knew about the painting? What would they feel free to do?
Lucy gaped at her. “That does not sound at all exciting.”
“It isn’t. It’s frightening. And I so want your brother to notice me. I had to come up with some way to make it happen yet still protect myself.”
“Tell me,” Lucy said, taking her hands.
Cold and trembling, Elizabeth welcomed her friend’s warm comfort. Taking a deep breath, she said in a low voice, “I asked Peter to pretend to be my fiancé.”
Lucy’s mouth dropped open.
“I know, I know. But it will protect me from these men, don’t you see? My brother isn’t here to do so. And I’m hoping that your brother will realize what he’s let go, after hinting that he wanted me as his wife not so long ago. When I’m free again, surely he’ll propose.”
For some insane reason, she had thought she could attract William’s notice tonight, somehow convince him in one evening that they belonged together, that he should marry her now. That foolish thought had fled her mind almost immediately. She had to leave William out of this, to somehow make him see what he was missing when she became engaged to someone else.
Lucy frowned in confusion. “So you still want me to tell you what events my brother will attend?”
“Of course!”
And meanwhile she would string Thomas along, waiting for her brother’s return. Somehow she would make Thomas realize he couldn’t go against the whole Cabot family. And that painting would be gone, she’d make certain of that. What proof would Thomas have against her? Then she’d be “free” again, and William would realize he had a second chance.
“But . . . Mr. Derby?” Lucy asked with doubt.
Elizabeth sank onto the sofa and her friend sat beside her. “Tonight, I saw him across the room, and knew he was the
one person I could ask for help.” She didn’t mention that she had something to offer him in return, the solution to that wager.
“And he agreed, just like that? Knowing he would look in the wrong when you broke it off?”
Elizabeth nodded. “To help protect me.” The satisfaction and relief had almost overwhelmed her. But how was she going to keep her lies straight? She hadn’t told Peter anything about the men harassing her, because that might lead him back to Thomas. No, she could not have them confronting each other.
“Then he knows about your tendre for William?”
“No, he doesn’t. Perhaps that is a mistake, but . . . he pointed out that in order for us to be convincing, we have to seem like we’ve suddenly fallen in love.”
And then Peter had touched her. Their casual friendship seemed to dissolve in a mad rush of sensation that had only confused and worried her. But even that hadn’t made her change her mind.
“Your mother will believe that? Your cousins?”
Elizabeth winced. “My cousins aren’t in residence, and my mother—I must protect her from the truth of how I’m being treated. She would believe it’s all her fault, because I’m of her Spanish blood. Having never felt respected, if she believes the same has happened to me . . . oh, it might weaken her even further.”
“But you’ve never shown even one bit of romantic feeling for Mr. Derby. What will you do?”
“He’s going to . . . guide me.”
Lucy covered her mouth on a gasp. “What does that mean?”
“He will make it look like he’s fallen in love with me, and I will respond.” She thought of the way he’d cupped her face, the strange sensation of warmth and pleasure. He’d looked deep into her eyes, and in that moment, she’d known he was capable of displaying emotions he didn’t feel—but was she? “I’ve decided to make the best of my plan.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m going to learn everything Peter does, every romantic touch—and then I’ll try them with William.”
Lucy closed her eyes on a groan.
“Well, I have to make him notice me, Lucy! He’s putting off marriage, but I don’t have that luxury.” It truly bothered her how William could make her feel inadequate about herself. She wasn’t inadequate; she was taking control, making her own future happen, dealing with threats.
Lucy sank back against the sofa. “It is all so . . . dangerous, Elizabeth. So many things can go wrong.”
“I know, but I won’t allow it. I can control Peter, and with an engagement, I can control those men trying to force me to choose them.” Including Thomas. “So you will still tell me which parties your brother chooses to attend?”
“Of course. And you’ll be able to keep this from Mr. Derby?”
“I’ll do my best.” She pushed to her feet. “But right now I have to prove to him that I can play my part.” She ignored Lucy’s worried look, knowing that her friend suspected there was more to the story.
Lucy followed along behind, but they didn’t hurry back to William and the rest of the Gibson family. Elizabeth paused in the doorway to the drawing room, hand lingering on the frame, her gaze sweeping across the guests. She let herself pass over William, absorbed the emotions he aroused, and then she settled soft eyes on Peter. He was talking intently to several men, gesturing with his hands. It was a habit that had always amused her, and she used it even more to remind herself of her fondness for him.
But fondness wasn’t always trust, though once she would have thought it so. At last he saw her and went still. The two men with him turned to follow his gaze. It was not difficult to blush and lower her eyes, for she remembered too well the way he’d touched her face so intimately. Beneath her lashes, she looked up, saw one of the men elbow Peter good-naturedly and the other shake his head with a wince.
No, it would not be easy to quickly convince any among their circle that they’d suddenly fallen in love with each other. But they had time. Three weeks until the Kelthorpe Masked Ball—and her brother’s homecoming. It would have to be enough.
While she hovered in the doorway, trying to decide what to do, the orchestra played the first notes of a waltz. Out of the corner of her eye she saw more than one man bearing down on her, but she kept her focus on Peter. He left his friends and came toward her. Walking through her approaching suitors, she ignored them, as if she had eyes for only one man. She told herself to think about William, but strangely, that didn’t work. Peter was grinning at her, and though his demeanor was gentlemanly, in his eyes there was amusement and knowledge and the promise that he would make everything work out.
Because it would benefit him, she was certain.
He swept her into his arms, and although the drawing room was on the small side, he expertly maneuvered through the tight quarters, drawing her against him far too provocatively when it looked as if they might collide with another couple.
She gave a little gasp and murmured, “I know we’re making a point, but perhaps we don’t need to be quite so scandalous.”
He didn’t bother to hide his laugh. “After everything that’s happened the last few days, can you honestly call a waltz scandalous?”
She looked up into his eyes, a blue that seemed darker, more mysterious, as if the real Peter was a man she’d never truly known before. A lock of sandy blond hair fell over his forehead, making him seem . . . rakish. She found herself smiling, then laughing, letting her head dip back just a bit as he spun her through the corner of the room.
To her surprise, she felt the brush of his thigh between hers, and it made her aware of his strength over her, the power in his frame. And then she blushed, for it seemed somehow . . . embarrassing, to think of Peter that way.
“Elizabeth?” he murmured, leaning closer, as if he’d touch his lips to her forehead.
She shook herself, forcing a smile. “Yes?”
“You were . . . gone for a moment there.”
“Simply losing myself in the dance.”
When the waltz ended, she sank into a deep curtsy, looking up at him with a smile she knew was a bit too sly with the secrets they shared. He bowed, his own smile more mysterious, hinting at things others might wonder about. When he should have released her hand, he placed it on his arm instead, walking her to the edge of the floor, claiming her.
Elizabeth knew they were being watched by the small crowd of guests. She looked up into Peter’s amused face. “Before I joined you, your conversation with the other men seemed quite . . . heated.”
His smile broadened. “Railway mergers bring out the passion in some men.”
“In you?”
“It’s an exciting time to be in business, Elizabeth.”
She exaggerated her look about to see if they were overheard. “Don’t let some of the old lords hear you say that.”
“Surely I cannot make myself any less in their eyes. And more than one ‘old lord’ has tried to pry for my knowledge.” He cocked his head as he studied her. “You don’t seem surprised.”
“Of course not. You’re an intelligent man. I remember how you were with my brother’s tutor. Competition with you drove Chris to work harder than he might have wanted to. My father appreciated that.”
“Compliments already.”
She smiled. “For a new fiancé.”
“Back then I felt the need to prove that your father’s faith in me wasn’t misplaced. And I enjoyed every bit of knowledge I could amass, for I never knew when it would cease.”
“Oh, my father wouldn’t have—”
“Not your father.”
She studied him, knowing that she had him trapped. “You never spoke much about Mr. Derby, and I didn’t know him very well.”
“He was not the sort of man the duke was. My father felt the need to constantly prove himself better than others—better than a duke. The fact that he could not afford to educate both his sons embarrassed him so badly that I almost received no education at all. My mother made him realize that I’d never marry well wi
thout one. The chance to improve the family fortunes finally changed his mind.”
“You never told me this,” she said slowly.
“You were younger, and unaware. Why should you know that there could be men in the world like my father?”
“It must have made you want to prove yourself to him.”
His expression remained impassive.
“And you have proven yourself, Peter,” she said softly.
“That’s not important. Success on my own terms is.”
She took a deep breath, looking about at the guests, who tried to watch them without really watching. “And perhaps you will have even more success with this new connection to my family.”
“You mean the one I’ll lose within a few weeks?” He cocked his head.
Her face flushed. “But until then, you will meet new people—perhaps even the woman who will wish you were available again.”
“I have a good deal of success with women on my own, thank you.”
“So I heard,” she murmured.
“And what did you hear?”
Would this humiliating evening never end? “Nothing specific, of course. People are quite circumspect.”
“In our circles?” he asked dryly. “Then we can’t know the same people.”
She looked away.
“You’re attempting to be lighthearted, now that I’ve agreed to your scandal.”
A change of subject, but she allowed it. “It won’t be a scandal, not if everything goes as I intend.”
He covered her hand where it rested on his arm. “You’ve taken many risks lately.”
She stiffened. “Not really.” Situations had been thrust upon her—she wasn’t that reckless, thoughtless young girl anymore.
He arched a brow, disbelief evident in his expression. “Posing nude for a painting, dressing as a boy to steal it back, now pretending an engagement. My head is reeling from seeing all these different sides of you.” He lowered his voice. “I enjoyed seeing one side above all others.”
She knew he referred to the painting, and although embarrassment lingered within her, she forced it down. “I have done what was necessary. And is this strange discussion simply to show all our curious friends that you’re fascinated with me?”