A Lady Unrivaled

by Roseanna M. White

  Cayton was already charging into the hall bellowing, “Mrs. Higgins!”

  For there being only five people in the room, the amount of chaos was astounding. Stafford swept Brook into his arms, Whitby swung wide the second of the double doors, both of them speaking at once—Stafford in French and his father-in-law replying in English. The duke charged toward the doors, the earl urging out of the way the servants flying toward them from every direction.

  Try as she might to follow, Ella found herself at the rear of the gaggle of concerned people, and she gave up on the attempt to step into the hallway. From the looks of it, every female member of the staff was fluttering around Brook as Stafford carried her up the stairs. They would see she was comfortably situated, and Ella would give them a few minutes to do so before she went up. She would do just as much good down here, praying.

  Her eyes slid shut. Her heart opened. Her lips moved as silent words spilled out.

  She jumped away when a hand landed on her arm.

  Lord Rushworth offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry to startle you, my lady. But you would be in less danger of being bowled over by the servants running about if you prayed in here.”

  Heat stung her cheeks, though she couldn’t have said why. Certainly not at him seeing in a glance that she was praying—but perhaps at not having the sense to remove herself from the middle of the hallway to do it. Servants were dashing about, and given the way a particularly expectant one had a hand on the opposite wall to correct her balance, Ella suspected she had nearly collided with her.

  Nodding, she let him guide her back into the drawing room and to her seat. Her gaze on the doorway, Ella knotted her fingers together in her lap . . . and felt a new unease when Rushworth settled beside her.

  “I am sure she was simply overtaxed. Had I known she was unwell I certainly never would have asked for this meeting tonight.”

  His tone was right, filled with humility and concern. But that couldn’t negate that, as Brook had pointed out, he was a liar.

  Ella must remember that. Must remember that he had tried to steal the Fire Eyes from her home last year, yet had just said he had no motivation for doing so until after that incident. She turned her head to look at him.

  His eyes were riveted on her. But not on her. He seemed mesmerized by the sway of her earrings as she moved.

  Touching a finger to them to stop the ruby pendulum, Ella lifted her brows.

  Rushworth smiled and shifted his gaze that slight bit to her eyes. “Forgive me. They suit you so well, the perfect complement to your hair. Am I correct in guessing that they are part of the Nottingham rubies?”

  Did he really want to talk about her earrings? It seemed odd . . . especially after a conversation not five minutes before about coveted red diamonds.

  But these were just rubies. Not the Fire Eyes. Brice never would have let her borrow the things if they contained the Fire Eyes.

  Would he have?

  She pasted on a smile. “That’s right. My sister-in-law’s ears aren’t pierced, so I’ve borrowed them while I may.”

  But they weren’t part of the original set—only modeled after them. The original earrings had been stolen when Ella was just a girl. It had been such a big to-do—what with servants dismissed over it and Mama in tears for a solid week—that she still remembered it. Brice had only had the missing pieces redesigned last autumn.

  Last autumn. When, by all accounts, he was in possession of the Fire Eyes. Red diamonds long mistaken for rubies . . .

  Blast him to pieces! And he had tried to stop her from borrowing the earrings the first time, at the ball Rowena had thrown for his birthday in December.

  “Well, I cannot imagine them looking any more fetching on any of the duchesses than they look on you, my lady. You’ve the complexion for them.”

  Ella brightened her smile and added a prayer to the one still whispering in her heart for Brook that Cayton return to them soon. What would this man do if he were certain she wore the Fire Eyes even now? Bash her upside the head and steal the things from her very ears?

  “Thank you, my lord. How kind of you to say.” Not knowing what else to do, she slid into the bright bluster that would hopefully blind him to the truth pounding away inside her head. A laugh. A wave of her hand. “I’d begged my mother for years to let me borrow them, but just because I have a habit of misplacing things for a day or two, she always refused. Rowena, however . . . ” Here she grinned and darted a glance toward the door. “She is much easier to convince.”

  “And with fetching results.” He leaned back against the cushion, eyes fastened on her face now with the same intensity they had focused on the earrings. “I find it charming that you would try for years to borrow them. I have always admired a person who knows what she wants and persists in her attempts to achieve it.”

  Never in her life had she felt so shallow and base for wanting to borrow a pretty bauble. “It became a bit of a jest—that’s all.” Not her initial wanting to borrow them, given that she had exaggerated that, what with the things having been missing most of her life. But since the birthday gala, when she had conveniently forgotten to return them time after time . . . That was a jest.

  Rushworth smiled. “And I see you haven’t misplaced them, so your mother’s fears were for naught.”

  She laughed again. And willed Cayton to return. He would, surely. He must. Someone must. Surely someone would realize that she’d been left with Rushworth and come to her rescue. Even if they didn’t all think him a threat—which they did—it was hardly proper to leave her unchaperoned like this. “In this instance I have proven her fears wrong. But I do confess, my lord, that I am always misplacing things, myself included. Though I maintain that life is more interesting if you allow yourself to get lost now and then. How else do we discover things?”

  Something sparked in his eyes, highlighting how empty they usually seemed. “Indeed. Perhaps you should be an adventurer, my lady. Go off to explore what remains of the wilds.”

  “Perhaps if I didn’t adore my family far more than new discoveries.” Even if she did have the urge to shake her brother just now and demand some answers.

  Though, to be sure, if he realized she was now in company with Rushworth, Brice would likely lock her up in Ralin Castle until he could bully her safely back to Sussex, and then lecture her endlessly on taking care and being reasonable.

  “I have often wished to go someplace new. Shake the dirt of this place from my heels and see if perhaps a new locale would suit me better.” His gaze went nearly wistful. Which looked odd on him. “Someplace warm and sunny and still a bit untamed.”

  Ella tilted her head, trying to study him out. “Why not go, then? Perhaps a change of scenery would do your sister some good.”

  Though she was watching him, she still wasn’t quite sure how he managed to shift his bearing so subtly yet so completely. A blink, a movement of his shoulders, and he went from wistful would-be adventurer to a man who all but blended into the upholstery.

  Just in time for Cayton to step through the door. “There you are. I would have thought you’d gone up with Brook.” Thunder rumbled through his words.

  She could have kissed him for giving her an excuse to spring to her feet. “I intended to, but there was so much commotion I thought I’d let her get settled first. How is she? Is she awake?”

  Cayton shifted his gaze from her to Rushworth and back again. “Not as of a moment ago. But Dr. Fields is on his way, and apparently Lady Pratt’s lady’s maid has some experience with midwifery, so she is being found too.”

  “Midwifery.” Rushworth stood, his face going dark. “The duchess is . . . ?”

  Cayton lifted his brows.

  Rushworth expelled a long breath. “I am merely concerned for how my sister might take such news.”

  “Well, perhaps you should go and check on your sister while I show Lady Ella to Brook’s room.”

  “An excellent suggestion.” He stood, nodded to Cayton, bowed to her. �
�My lady, it has been a true pleasure to see you again. And I wonder . . . I wonder if you wouldn’t consider calling on my sister sometime while we are all in the area. She could do with some laughter and smiles.”

  Ella’s back went stiff even as her brows arched up. “Forgive my bluntness, my lord, but your sister despises me.”

  His smile would have been charming had Ella not still feared he meant to bash her in the skull and steal her earrings. “Don’t take it personally—she despises most everyone at this point.”

  “She despised me long ago.”

  He chuckled as he drew near, held out a hand to receive hers. “She used to be a jealous creature, despising any young lady she deemed too beautiful.”

  “You are too kind.” She didn’t really mean to put her fingers in his—it was just habit, ingrained for years.

  A habit she wished she had broken when he pressed his lips to her knuckles. “I hope you believe so, despite the low motives your friend would ascribe to me.”

  He lifted his head, gaze tangling with hers, but didn’t release her fingers. “As for my sister—she is not who she once was. Perhaps you can help her grow into someone . . . more like you.”

  Was he acting this way solely because he thought she might have the diamonds? No—he had begun well before he spotted the earrings. Which then begged a new question.

  Cayton stepped closer. “If you’re done flirting, Rush, Ella needs to be returned to her chaperones.” His voice was as hard as ice. As cold as judgment.

  Rushworth smirked in the face of it. “By all means.”

  Ella tucked her hand into the crook of Cayton’s elbow when he offered it. But she wondered. She wondered if she dare try to use Rushworth’s seeming attraction against him. She wondered if spying on one’s brother could possibly prepare one to continue the game when it wasn’t a game at all.

  And knew without a doubt that every single one of her friends and family would object to her even asking the question.

  At least . . . they would if they knew.

  Eleven

  Cayton led Ella up the stairs and down the family hall, thankful that Mrs. Higgins had brought the Staffords here and not into the guest wing—where Rush was turning. Still, he didn’t guide his companion straight to Brook. He instead mumbled something about giving the doctor a moment, since that man was even now trooping up behind them.

  But he figured they both knew, as he steered her into what had been Adelaide’s sitting room and switched on the light, that Brook had little to do with his thoughts just now, concerned for her as he may be.

  He was more concerned for the trouble-finding redhead who spun to take in the room as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

  “Are you daft? Flirting with him?”

  “I was not flirting with him—he was flirting with me.” Clasping her hands behind her back, she wandered toward the wall with the enormous landscape painting hanging upon it. And wrinkled her nose. “You didn’t do this one. Rather flat, isn’t it?”

  It was—and he had once intended to replace it, then didn’t see the point after Adelaide’s death. No one ever came in here anymore, though his mother had made some mention of putting it to use. If she did, then he would certainly replace the uninspired oil painting. But he would not be distracted with that now, not when Rushworth had been flirting so. “And you don’t find that rather odd? Telling, even?”

  “That you’ve allowed such a terrible painting to remain when you’re so capable of replacing it with better? I daresay it’s more oversight than oddity, but . . .”

  “Ella!”

  She turned to him again, lips smiling but eyes decidedly not. “You know, it usually takes a much longer acquaintanceship than we’ve enjoyed for people to feel comfortable chiding me as much as you’ve done.”

  That familiar guilt gnawed at him—until he reminded himself that if he was being rude, it was for her own good. “I’ll beg if I must. Stay away from him. Please.”

  “Much as I do enjoy making a man beg . . .” She sashayed back to him, stopping a mere foot away. Close enough that she had to tilt up her face to meet his gaze. “I find it annoying how often I must remind people of this—but I’m not a fool, I’m not a child, and I’m not naïve. I know well that he’s flirting with me because he thinks I have a connection to the diamonds.”

  The logical conclusion . . . but Cayton wasn’t so sure. In all the years he’d known Rush, he’d never seen the man flirt. Ever. With anyone. “I highly doubt that’s his only reason.”

  Why did her smile always have to be so quick, so bright? “Careful, my lord. That nearly sounded like a hint of an implied compliment.”

  Nearly, hint, implied—he snorted a laugh. “I’m not the one who needs to be careful. You acted all night as though he were any other doting suitor, but he’s not. He’s . . . I don’t even know what he is, which is rather the point. He shows only what he wants people to see. He is . . . a chameleon. And we must ask why he chose to put on a face of charm tonight. Why he is so set on winning you.”

  She rolled her eyes and stepped away. “I would hardly call a few flirtatious comments being ‘set on winning’ me.”

  “In the decade we have been in society together, he has never once flirted with a young lady like he did with you tonight. Never. Once.”

  Ella lifted her arms, though her expression was more of frustration than helplessness. “What do you want me to do, Lord Cayton? Snub him? Insult him? Spurn him?”

  “Yes. No.” If Rushworth’s heart was involved—odd a thought as that was—they certainly didn’t need it broken. Who knew how volatile he might become. Cayton rubbed at the back of his neck and wished he had taken Addie to the Continent for the spring, with Mother. “Why can you not just see the wisdom in going home?”

  Her snort shouldn’t have sounded ladylike. Shouldn’t have been endearing. But it was. At least until she muttered, “I daresay he would follow me.”

  He hadn’t pegged her as quite so proud. “You really are sure of your charms, aren’t you.”

  “What?” She met his gaze again, and hers went . . . amused. Of course. “Hardly. But I . . . I think he believes I have the Fire Eyes.”

  Cayton crossed his arms over his chest. “Why would he think that?”

  “Because I just might.” She reached up to her right ear and fiddled with her earring. A moment later she held it in her palm. “What do you think? Could they be in here? He was staring at them . . .”

  “And you just . . . Have you no sense?” He spun for the door, checked the hall. It was still abuzz but focused about the room to which they’d taken Brook. No one was paying any heed to them. He pulled the door shut though. “You announce such a thing for anyone to overhear?”

  For once, she didn’t smile. “Sorry. I’m still frazzled.” She held the dangling earrings toward the light and squinted at the jewels. “What exactly do red diamonds look like?”

  He could only shake his head. “Why are you wondering such things to begin with? And why in my company? You scarcely know me. I could clobber you over the head and steal them.”

  “But you won’t, because you’re an honorable man who is on the correct side in this particular war.” She shifted the gold, letting the jewels catch the light. “I’m at least certain of that,” she added in a low mumble he scarcely caught.

  Perhaps he would have made some response to that addition. But a red rainbow shot onto the wall opposite, stealing his attention. Ella didn’t seem to notice it though. Not until he sucked in a breath and pointed. “Ella.”

  Holding her hand still, she looked up and over. Her eyes went wide. Taking in the dance of light, every shade of red from scarlet to jasper. “Well, I guess that answers that question. Have you any helpful advice, my lord, as to what I’m to do now?”

  “Go home.”

  She sent him a glare that said he was daft and refastened the earring in her ear. “To my sister-in-law who will be having a baby any day now, you mean? When Lord Rushworth is su
re to follow?”

  “He couldn’t have spotted them so easily.” Except that he was probably looking for them everywhere. In every set of rubies, in anything either the Staffords or Nottinghams had touched.

  Hope failed to glimmer in her eyes. “Let us pray he didn’t. But until I’m sure of that, I’m certainly not going home. Brice and Rowena have been through enough since their marriage—they don’t need this insanity visiting them again. We’ll take care of it here. Now.”

  Worry redoubled and lodged itself between his ribs. “We?”

  Ella planted her hands on her hips. “Would you have me march into that bedroom and hand them to Stafford while his wife lies unconscious?”

  “Of course not.” But why were they caught so thoroughly in the middle of something of which they had absolutely no part? He sighed and leaned against the door, his ears straining as always for sounds from the nursery. Wondering if the commotion had disturbed Addie.

  Wishing Addie were safely in France with Mother.

  Taking a deep breath, he whispered, “People have died over these jewels. Far too many of them.”

  “That’s rather my point. I’ll not have anyone I love pay that price.”

  Foolish woman. Another long breath seeped out as he tried to reconcile her figure—all brightness, innocence, and laughter—with the utterly serious look in her eyes. “Have you given any thought at all to the danger you will be in?”

  She flashed a cheeky smile, but it did nothing to banish the very real shadows in her eyes. Proving that yes, she had thought of it. It just hadn’t deterred her. “Let us hope he really does like me, hmm?”

  Cayton sighed. “Have Stafford put them in his safe—it’s impenetrable. And he won’t think anything of it, they being part of the Nottingham rubies.”

  “You see, I knew you’d be full of logic and sound advice.”

  He pushed off from the door so he could open it again. Waved her out. “Go to Brook before her father thinks I absconded with you.”

  Somehow, she managed to chuckle even as she stepped past him. “Oh yes, can’t have that—then we’d be forced to a summer wedding, when I would so prefer September. Addie could carry colorful leaves instead of flower petals. It would be splendid.”