The Nobody: Signet Regency Romance (InterMix)

by Diane Farr

  Elizabeth summoned up a rather ghastly smile. “You are all consideration, my lord. But I do not wish to be released from my promise. Many couples disagree on various matters and yet live together quite comfortably. I am persuaded you and I will achieve a similar success.”

  Kilverton almost winced. “You call such a marriage successful? I would call it a disaster. Our views are opposed on this, as on nearly everything else.” He crossed the room swiftly and took her hands in a strong clasp. “Think, Elizabeth! It is not too late. I beg you, do not force us into this alliance. A marriage between such ill-matched personalities will doom us both to a lifetime of regret.”

  Elizabeth snatched her hands out of his grasp, an ugly color suffusing her face. Her features contorted with rage. Startled, Kilverton instinctively stepped back.

  “So now we come to the point!” she spat. “It is you who desires a release from your promise, not I! How dare you come to me, mewling and sniveling about ‘smoothing my way’? Pretending to consider my feelings! Filling my ears with this Banbury story about a ‘lifetime of regret’! I’ll show you the meaning of a ‘lifetime of regret,’ my lord! I’ll make you sorry you were ever born if you dare to jilt me! You will never live it down! Never! Not you, nor any of your family!”

  Kilverton stared in amazement as Elizabeth leaned forward, her eyes narrowing with menace. “Who do you think you are?” she hissed. “Viscount Kilverton! What is that? A trumped-up title for the son of Selcroft! And who will you be? The sixth earl! Why, the Delacourts were Dukes of Arnsford when the town of Kilverton was a two-horse farm—when your family was nothing but a gaggle of upstart yeomen! If you believe you can offer me an insult of this magnitude, you will soon discover your mistake!”

  “I have already discovered my mistake,” said Kilverton drily. “If you do not desire to become a Kilverton, Elizabeth, you have my heartfelt permission to remain a Delacourt.”

  Elizabeth realized she had made a tactical error. She struggled for a moment to recover her temper. “I did not mean to speak disparagingly of your family. I beg your pardon! I am afraid I was angry for a moment.”

  Kilverton laughed mirthlessly. “Handsome of you! But I do not want your apologies. You express nothing but contempt and dislike for me, and yet you propose to live intimately with me for the rest of your life. How can you stomach the idea, let alone insist upon it?”

  Confusion flickered in Elizabeth’s eyes. “Did you think we were making a love match?” she gasped, her voice and face expressing all the horror she felt at such a vulgar notion.

  Kilverton could not repress a shudder. “Certainly not!” he replied. He regarded her gravely. “But did you not hope, Elizabeth, that we would come to love one another—in time? If I had not thought so, I would never have offered for you.”

  Elizabeth’s lips curled into a scornful smile. “I never dreamed you harbored such shabby-genteel sentiments, my lord. I do not consider love, in the sense you speak of it, to be either necessary or desirable in marriage. On the contrary, I believe it often leads to unhappiness of the worst kind! Pray do not expect me to hang on your sleeve, my lord, once we are married. I will not willingly provide food for vulgar gossip, or furnish entertainment for others through my behavior.”

  With a shock, Kilverton realized it was this very quality he had once prized in Elizabeth. He remembered, as if in some distant dream, that he had congratulated himself on acquiring a wife who would enact him no passionate scenes, and expect none from him. The aspect of Elizabeth’s character that had most appealed to him a month ago now struck him as repellent. Groaning inwardly, he tried again.

  “Elizabeth, believe me, I am doing you a favor in urging you to break our engagement. There must be any number of men who will value your irreproachable conduct. I am not among them! You would do well to look elsewhere. I am willing to play whatever role you assign me in this—to appear villainous, foolish, or licentious—anything you ask! Only set us free from one another, Elizabeth. I beg you.”

  Elizabeth’s angry flush returned, and her voice shook with rage. “I will not! I will not even listen to you! Our betrothal has been announced. The wedding date has been set. How can you ask me to even contemplate such a humiliating step? It is far too late for these repinings, Richard! I tell you again, if you play the jack with me I will make you regret it to your dying day!”

  Kilverton’s mouth set grimly. “Perhaps I have not made myself plain, Elizabeth. What I am proposing is that you jilt me. I do not share your scruples. You may humiliate me with my goodwill! I will gladly be an object of scorn or pity for a few months, rather than marry where I cannot love. Jilt me, Elizabeth! I will not contradict whatever story you choose to tell to justify the action.”

  “Very pretty talking, Richard! And what of my reputation? What of my future? What becomes of all the gentlemen who supposedly will value me for my ‘irreproachable’ conduct? Will these gentlemen still value me, once I have created a scandal? It is preposterous! Who will offer for me, once I have jilted you?”

  Kilverton’s heart sank. “I have told you, you may place the blame for it squarely on my shoulders.”

  “Yes? And what am I to say? Why did I cry off, Richard? Are you a drunkard? Odd that no one else has noticed it! Did you, perhaps, strike me? Is that more likely?”

  “Yes, it is,” agreed Kilverton promptly.

  Elizabeth was not amused. “It is not at all likely, and that is precisely my point! No one will believe any tale wild enough to justify my taking such a drastic action.” She faced Kilverton squarely, her eyes glittering.

  “In the interests of our future harmony, I have decided to forget this conversation ever took place. I believe it is natural to feel some degree of nervousness before one’s wedding. I consider that you have expressed to me nothing more than natural misgivings, and that we have now dealt with them satisfactorily. My sentiments have undergone no change, Richard, and I contemplate our future alliance with every expectation of happiness. I will be glad to take your hand in church on the second of September. Good day, my lord!”

  Kilverton regarded her bleakly for a moment. “I will leave you,” he said quietly. “But I hope you will carefully consider what I have said.”

  “Good day!”

  “If you change your mind at any time, Elizabeth—”

  “Get out!”

  Kilverton bowed ironically and flung open the salon door, thinking savagely what a gudgeon he had been to believe Elizabeth would never enact him any emotional scenes! His rapid exit greatly discomposed William, who had been hovering directly outside. All expression instantly vanished from the footman’s countenance and he stared impassively into the middle distance. Kilverton took no notice of him, however, but strode purposefully toward the front door. William watched his lordship’s departure with covert interest. Furious sobs and the crash of flying ornaments seemed to be emanating from the salon. He wondered if this would be the last the ducal staff might see of Lord Kilverton.

  Lord Kilverton, meanwhile, went directly to Half Moon Street, inadvertently beginning a train of speculation in the mind of Lady Lynwood’s butler.

  Stubbs would never so far forget himself as to betray either his suspicion or his disapproval, of course, but it was uncommon odd for his lordship to be visiting at all—and to be asking for Miss Campbell, rather than her ladyship—well, it was hard to put an innocent construction on that, wasn’t it? Not to mention that the gentleman had A Certain Look about him, as Stubbs confided later in the privacy of the housekeeper’s office.

  “Crossed in love, Mrs. Hopper, or I miss my guess!” said Stubbs impressively.

  “Go on with you, then!” chided Mrs. Hopper, pouring the butler a second cup of tea. “You never saw this Lord Kilverton above twice in your life, Mr. Stubbs, and for all you know that’s his natural expression.”

  “Well, then, he’s mad as a hatter,” averred Stubbs. “And pale as a panada, to boot! No, Mrs. Hopper, I know a gentleman what’s been crossed in love
when I sees one. Had you seen him, you’d say the same.”

  “And do you ask me to believe Miss Campbell has encouraged Lord Kilverton to dangle after her? Why, his lordship is engaged to the Duke of Arnsford’s eldest!” Mrs. Hopper was an avid reader of the society columns. “I’ll never believe such a thing of Lady Lynwood’s own niece, Mr. Stubbs, and I’m ashamed of you for thinking it.”

  “Well, I’ve got nothing against the gel,” said Stubbs, aggrieved. “But what am I to think when a strange gentleman arrives all in a pother, hammers on the door like one demented, and instead of enquiring for her ladyship, as he should do, asks to see this Miss Campbell? I put it to you, Mrs. Hopper: How does it look? And does she refuse to see the gent? No! Ties on her bonnet and steps out with him, if you please! And off they go, a-walking to the Green Park!” Stubbs shook his head slowly. “It don’t look right, Mrs. Hopper. That’s all I’m saying!”

  The housekeeper stirred her tea, pondering this information. “Perhaps Lady Serena had an important message for her particular friend, and sent it through her brother.”

  Stubbs gave a snort of derision. “Why should they step out together like it’s a great secret? A deuced long message, that! They were gone above an hour!”

  Mrs. Hopper was incredulous. “Well, I never—! Are you sure, Mr. Stubbs?”

  “Above an hour, I say, and very nearly two! I let them out, and I let them in. Well above an hour, or my name ain’t Bob Stubbs. Which it is!” He leaned forward meaningfully. “And the way he looked when he arrived wasn’t nothing to the way he looked when he left! Blue as megrim, Mrs. Hopper!”

  “Then you may depend upon it, Miss Campbell gave your fine gentleman his comeuppance.” Mrs. Hopper nodded comfortably. “Left with his tail between his legs, did he? That’ll teach him to come sniffing round a respectable female!”

  Stubbs scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Well, it didn’t strike me that way. Not quite that way. In fact, if you was to ask me, Miss Campbell herself looked as queer as Dick’s hat-band. She sent him off, all right and tight, but she didn’t look any too happy to see him go, Mrs. Hopper. She went to the parlor and watched him walk away. Sat at the window, she did. Watched him all the way to the end of the street. I stepped away for a bit, and when I come back, there she was, still a-sitting at the window and a-staring down the street. And him gone for ten minutes or more! I says to her, ‘Can I get you anything, miss?’ and she says to me—”

  They were interrupted by a pattering knock on Mrs. Hopper’s door followed by the breathless entrance of Jane. She bobbed a nervous curtsy when she saw Stubbs closeted with her supervisor.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Mrs. Hopper—Mr. Stubbs—”

  Mrs. Hopper beckoned her forward. “That’s all right, Jane. What is it?”

  Jane’s eyes were big as saucers. “It’s Miss Campbell, mum! She’s asking to have her trunks brought down from the attic. She’s going back to Hertfordshire, mum! Did you ever?”

  The housekeeper’s startled eyes met Mr. Stubbs’s over their teacups. Mr. Stubbs nodded with great satisfaction, forgetting in the excitement of the moment to maintain his dignity before Jane.

  “There, now! What did I tell you?” he exclaimed. “Crossed in love, Mrs. Hopper—the both of them!”

  Chapter XX

  Lady Lynwood was not fond of rain under the best of circumstances. All Saturday morning it rained, and she found herself feeling more and more cast down. Caitlin’s abrupt departure had thrown a pall of gloom over the household, and now the weather trapped her ladyship in the morning room with Emily. She tried to recruit her spirits with a novel from the lending library, but Lady Lynwood had never been much of a reader. The heroine’s improbable adventures completely failed to divert her attention from the cares and disappointments pressing upon her. When she realized she had been reading the same sentence over and over for several minutes, she gave up. Emily looked up from her needlework as her aunt flung the book down with a sigh.

  “I do not understand why Caitlin left us!” exclaimed Lady Lynwood pettishly, for perhaps the twentieth time.

  “She felt she could not stay, Aunt.”

  “Yes, but why? It’s nonsensical! Pretending Amabel needs her to help with Nicky—such stuff! I have two boys of my own, and it’s my belief they’re all the same. When James broke his arm, do you think he would let us cosset him? Well, he wouldn’t! And no more will Nicky, you mark my words. She’ll go home to find she’s not wanted in the least. And if she was wanted, wouldn’t Amabel have said so in her letter?”

  Emily’s lip trembled. Caitlin had confided to her the real reasons for her departure. It was difficult—and rather dreadful—to keep secrets from Aunt Harriet, but Emily had to agree that it was better to hide all knowledge of Caitlin’s illicit romance from their aunt if they could. Aunt Harriet would be so distressed!

  Emily sincerely pitied her sister. She had herself recently learned something of the power of love, and knew how inexplicably it could bind two people together. Emily tried to imagine what she would have done, had Captain Talgarth been betrothed when she met him. The idea made her shudder.

  The butler stepped into the morning room, and Lady Lynwood brightened. A visitor was just what she needed. She believed she would welcome Bonaparte himself on a day like today! However, Stubbs’ announcement, although not so dramatic, caused her ladyship’s face to crumple into an expression of dismay. Lady Serena Kilverton had arrived, asking for Miss Campbell. Ought he to show her up?

  “Oh, dear! Yes, of course—at once, Stubbs.” As Stubbs bowed himself out, Lady Lynwood straightened her cap distractedly. “How excessively provoking! I wish Caitlin had left a note for Lady Serena. I do think she might have thought of that. Whatever are we to say to her?”

  Emily had paled a little, but replied with composure. “We have only to tell her what happened, Aunt.” Emily devoutly hoped she would have the presence of mind to reveal nothing of the truth to Lord Kilverton’s sister. Somehow it struck her as a very different matter, and much more difficult, than keeping the secret from Aunt Harriet.

  Serena entered the room with her usual briskness, bringing the smell of rain with her. Her cheeks were pink with cold. “Oh, what a lovely fire!” she exclaimed, rubbing her hands with delight. “This rain is delicious, though, isn’t it? I do love a cold snap after it’s been so warm.”

  Lady Lynwood was so very far from agreeing that she was thrown even further into disorder. She clucked and fluttered vaguely, leaving Emily to shake hands and settle their visitor on the sofa.

  Emily picked up her needlework again, blushing a little as she spoke. “I am sorry Caitlin is not here to receive you, Lady Serena. She will be so vexed to learn that you ventured out in all this weather to call on her, only to find her gone.”

  Serena paused in the act of brushing raindrops from her sleeve. “Gone! How is this? She said nothing to me.”

  Emily found it difficult to meet Serena’s gaze, and bent quickly over her sewing. “Well, it was quite sudden, you see. Our brother, Nicholas, has broken his arm and Caitie felt she could be useful to Mama.”

  “Do you mean she has gone to Hertfordshire?” demanded Serena, astonished. “In the middle of the Season?”

  “I daresay she may return before long.” Emily blushed at her own untruthfulness, but tried to speak lightly. “After all, Rosemeade is only half a day’s journey from town.”

  Lady Serena’s sentiments now seemed to coincide so exactly with her own that Lady Lynwood’s sense of ill-usage returned in full force. She rushed into agitated speech. “You are thinking how excessively odd it is, Lady Serena, and I must say, I perfectly agree! I thought she was fixed here for another three or four weeks, at the least. Why, everyone is! And it isn’t as if she went to Brighton, or even Bath. She’s gone off, all in a quack, to Hertfordshire! Well! It presents a very off appearance if you ask me—which, however, nobody did. Anyone would suppose Nicky to be on his last legs, and it’s nothing of the kind! In fact, it’s not
his legs at all, it’s only his arm—but that’s all of a piece! Or, rather, I suppose it’s not all of a piece, because it’s broken—but that’s neither here nor there! Well, of course it’s there, actually, but it certainly isn’t here, and now Caitlin is there, when she ought to be here, and I, for one, simply cannot understand it.”

  “Yes, but it all sounds like a hum,” objected Serena, as soon as Lady Lynwood stopped for breath. “After all—”

  “Oh, no, Lady Serena, I’m afraid it’s not a hum, although I am not precisely certain what that signifies. I would be very glad to believe it is all a hum, but I daresay Nicky has broken his arm, for what purpose could Amabel have in deceiving us all? And I cannot believe they would be mistaken about such a thing, for a broken bone is nothing like a sore throat, which could be anything at all, but my point is: what does Caitlin mean to do about it? She’s not a surgeon! And even if she were, which, as I say, she is not, I daresay everything was done that could be done for Nicky a week ago, and very likely more!” Lady Lynwood began ticking the days off on her fingers. “Amabel wrote on Wednesday, you know, so I suppose Nicky broke his arm last Monday or Tuesday, or even earlier than that, because the house would have been at sixes and sevens when it first happened and I cannot imagine Amabel sitting down to dash off a letter in the midst of a domestic crisis. We had her letter Thursday morning, and Caitlin left yesterday afternoon, and of course today is Saturday, so Nicky would be—”

  “Forgive me, but I don’t perfectly understand you,” interrupted Serena. “If you received the letter Thursday morning, and Caitlin considered the news to be so grave, why did she not leave until Friday afternoon?”

  Lady Lynwood’s jaw dropped. “That is odd!” she exclaimed. “Most extraordinary! Why, she was completely calm when we read the letter, was she not, Emily? She never said anything on Thursday about wanting to go home, did she? Fancy! She didn’t say anything Friday morning, either—although she did look a little peculiar. Do you recall that, Emily love? We both remarked on it. She wasn’t herself at all. And then all of a sudden, that afternoon, she decides she must go home. I wonder if that was what she was discussing with Lord Kilverton? You know, I often feel the lack of male advice in my life these days, and I suppose Caitlin does, as well. Men have such excellent, practical notions! I fancy she discussed it with him, and he advised her to go.”