Already His (The Caversham Chronicles - Book Two)

by Sandy Raven

  She glared at him, not sure whether to slap him or thank him.

  Society watchers in attendance at Covent Garden that evening were all agog over the fact that a certain earl entered with one young lady on his arm and left with a completely different young lady. The information was quickly noted and within minutes was on the way to the Times’ and the Post’s gossip writers.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Well, that was an interesting turn of events was it not?” Beverly said the next morning as they breakfasted in Elise’s room.

  “Yes.” Elise buttered her toast. “And I think he planned the entire thing.”

  “Come now, Elise, Michael couldn’t have possibly planned bumping into you. How was he to know you’d be leaving the box as he entered?”

  “He might not have planned spilling his drink over me, but he had something concocted along that line.” She ripped off a vicious bite from her slice of bread. “I’m sure of it,” she said through a full mouth. There was nothing he could say to change her mind. Michael knew she’d be there, and he inserted himself into her evening plans.

  “I asked Huddleston about Wilson and Lady Caroline, and it turns out the two have known each other ages.” Beverly stirred sugar into her tea. “It wasn’t until recently that he’d thought to pursue her. Her father refused his suit last year, telling the captain that his wife thought to get a title for their daughter.” She met her friend’s gaze and sipped. “Caroline is, after all, an only child.”

  “Beverly, Caroline is a nice girl. But she hasn’t a single thought of relevance in her head. Admittedly, she is quite beautiful, but for how long can looks keep a man attracted to a woman?” Elise cut into her ham, and forked a piece.

  “I don’t know... until they fade perhaps?”

  Elise thought a while, then shook her head. “No. Judging from what I’ve seen of successful marriages, I’ve observed that it’s those unions where the woman is educated beyond needlepoint and watercolors that are the happiest. Think on it. Don’t you agree that it’s when a man does not have decent conversation at home, it’s then that he seeks fulfillment in another woman’s company?”

  Beverly chuckled. “Somehow I don’t think it’s conversation a man is getting from his mistress.”

  “No, of course not. But, the inability to hold dialogue on topics of interest to the man is a direct factor in causing that man to seek more... preferable companionship. Why, it’s the very reason the demi-monde exists. Think about the women of that set. They’re always patronizing some art form, political cause, or some such. Some even admit to being blue-stockings. Now I ask you, why do you think the men are attracted to them? Not all of them are pretty.”

  “Because the men can get what they want with no strings attached,” Beverly said, “unlike in marriage.”

  “Ah, but the women get what they want as well. For some it’s trinkets, clothing or a home. For others it’s that male voice to lend credence to, or help them promote, their own liberal ideas.”

  “You really have thought this through, haven’t you? You’re not, by chance, thinking of joining them?”

  Elise wanted to laugh at the genuine concern evident in Beverly’s eyes. “Of course not. It was merely an observation. That’s all.”

  “Good. Because I’d hate to hear what your brother might do to you if you said to him you wanted to begin holding literary readings, or worse—sponsoring philosophers or poets.”

  “That will never happen. Don’t worry.”

  A knock sounded and a housemaid appeared, stating that His Grace wished her presence in the dining room. The girls exchanged worried glances. They’d chosen to breakfast in Elise’s room specifically to avoid her brother until they could arrive at some explanation for what occurred last night. She was sure Michael had already informed Ren that he had accompanied Elise, Beverly and Huddleston home last night. Now her brother was going to question her about what she had done to precipitate the events.

  She held no illusion as to her brother believing her innocent. In his eyes, she was still the same Elise and always was the one culpable for any incident regarding Michael. Hopefully Michael would be downstairs. Not because she wanted to see him, but because he could help clear her of any wrongdoing.

  “Big brother beckons and I don’t think he means to wait until I’ve finished eating.” When Beverly set her napkin on the table and moved to rise, Elise put up her hand, stopping her. “You needn’t come. It’s me he’s angry with. And it wouldn’t do to have that anger spill over onto you. Especially since tomorrow night he’s hosting your ball. Let’s keep you in his good graces.”

  Elise entered the dining room to find Ren and Lia seated, having already breakfasted and enjoying a cup of coffee. Except her brother didn’t appear to be enjoying anything at the moment. Before him, spread on the table was a newspaper. Her heavy heart plummeted. She couldn’t take another step.

  “Sit!”

  Of all the many chairs surrounding the long table, Elise took a seat next to her sister-in-law for two reasons. First, Ren couldn’t reach her there to strangle her and, second, she hoped Lia would provide support in managing her brother’s wrath.

  “Would you like to read the gossip column?” He pushed the publication toward her. She recognized this tone of voice, tinged with barely restrained anger. It was one she was familiar with.

  She shook her head. “I don’t have to. I was there. I know what happened.”

  “Would you care to explain to me what transpired? You left here with one escort and returned with another.”

  She told him exactly what occurred, hoping it would soothe his temper. She was mistaken, and correct in her earlier assumption that he’d hold her responsible.

  “I’m telling you the truth. I had nothing to do with it. First—” She ticked off the count on her fingers for emphasis. “—he showed up in your box after knowing Beverly and I would attend the theater with Huddleston and Wilson, for we discussed it at this very table yesterday morning. Why is that?”

  She lifted another finger. “Second, about the punch. It was an accident. I had no way of knowing he was behind the door. Third, it seems Captain Wilson and Caroline Randolph have been secretly carrying a tendre for each other for quite a while, but neither Michael nor myself knew of it.”

  When Elise returned her hands to her lap, Lia grasped them under the table. Elise was thankful for her support as Ren rarely thought Elise innocent whenever mayhem occurred.

  “Husband,” Lia began, “in light of these facts, you can hardly reach the conclusion that Elise had a hand in this.”

  “Forgive me, but her track record with regard to any incident involving Michael has given me cause to doubt her.” He glared a warning to Elise. “And rightfully so.”

  “I know you do not believe me, but I had nothing to do with last night’s events.”

  Ren pushed back from the table and rose. “I’m going to reiterate once more just so you don’t forget. Do not presume to bring scandal onto our family. You’ll not like Scotland in the winter.”

  When she entered her room afterward, Elise was met by an anxious Beverly. “That went about as I expected.” Elise threw herself onto the bed. “Ren thinks I initiated last night’s debacle and has once more warned me about scandal. He threatened, yet again, to send me to Scotland.”

  “I take it Michael was not present to corroborate the facts.”

  “No, and I don’t think Ren’s spoken to him this morning.”

  “Well,” her friend began, “we need to re-think our plan.”

  Clutching the pillow she grinned wide, and rocked with unspent, excited energy. “No, Lord Camden has now noticed my existence as a woman. Your plan is working beautifully. Now, let’s see.... What are we going to do today?”

  Michael entered the ballroom at the home of Lord and Lady Purvis and was immediately inundated with greetings and invitations to meet daughters, sisters and other various female relations of both friends and strangers alike. He didn’t wan
t to appear rude, but he kindly sidestepped each trap and wended his way through the crowd to stand near a group of acquaintances while his eyes scanned the attendees for a familiar willowy, short-haired brunette with amber eyes.

  He spied her on the dance floor, her graceful form dipping and swaying to the country dance played by the orchestra. In a gown of palest pink, she was the young nymph that haunted his dreams of late. When she turned and he got a glimpse of the daring neckline of her dress, he froze. Surely her brother didn’t allow her to leave the house looking like that. If so, he would have to have a talk with his friend.

  Then he remembered. It wasn’t his place. He’d made no claim to her. Yet.

  His eyes followed her through the dance and watched as she curtsied, thanking her partner, and immediately returning to her group in a corner near the entrance onto the veranda.

  Cartland’s man on the inside, Mr. Carroll, sided up to him and leaned on the other side of the same column Michael held up. They both faced the ballroom floor, the object of their attention some twenty feet away from the edge of the floor, in a semi-circle of too-young, aspiring rakes. “The lady has danced every single dance since she arrived, except the waltzes.” The investigator glanced over at Michael, who met his gaze for a moment then turned back to watch Elise. “Do you know if she has permission?” The investigator did the same, but spoke to him in hushed tones. “I don’t want to ask her if she hasn’t received it yet. As tall and graceful as she is, waltzing with her would like waltzing on a cloud.” Michael grunted. “She might be high above me, but when you’re in her presence she doesn’t make you feel it. She is truly an unique and rare jewel among the paste. Is she not?”

  “Carroll, you have a job to do.” God, this was all he needed. Another besotted pup to shove away when he claimed his prize. But only if he grew the backbone needed to approach his friend.

  The investigator chuckled. “If I didn’t know that you were one of the men who’d been cleared from being suspect, I’d report that you were one to keep the lady from. Especially with the covetous way you look at her as though she were the last morsel on the dessert tray.”

  Michael pushed away from the post, mumbling, “At least she remembers my name.” He didn’t think Carroll heard. In fact, now that he’d said it, he realized it was best he hadn’t. Michael didn’t want to antagonize the man who was supposed to protect the woman he wanted as his wife. He strolled around the fringes of the ballroom, greeting friends and speaking with dowagers—his mind always on where Elise was at any given moment.

  Around her were at least a half-dozen men, young bucks and old rakes alike, hanging on to her every word, eager to perform her every whim when she asked. Someone handed her a lemonade from a passing footman’s tray and she smiled radiantly to him in thanks.

  He’d be damned if he would approach her and become one of the fawning fops gathered around her skirts. His only reason for attending, he reminded himself, was to see that she remained safe. No rule said he had to do that within ten feet of her.

  Beverly leaned over and whispered to Elise, “He’s here and he’s noticed you. Keep up the good work.”

  “Where is my grandmother?”

  “Seated near the punch table with several other dowagers.”

  She nodded and replied to something a gentleman near her said, hoping her comment sounded appropriate. For all she knew, she could have just agreed to marry him. Looking again at his bulbous nose and goat-like smile she decide that wouldn’t do at all. She simply had to pay more attention to the conversation lest she say something she’d regret.

  Elise shifted her position such that she was facing Michael and could just barely spy him over the left shoulder of the man conversing with her. Out of the corner of her eye she would occasionally catch a glimpse of Michael when he moved, his black evening attire making him appear pather-like in the brightly-lit ballroom. From where he stood at the edge of the room with his crowd of friends she could occasionally meet his gaze and whenever she did she’d pretend to ignore him. And even though he did not dance, she did. Often.

  Remembering the embarrassment he caused her the night before at the theater, and watching as he held on to a young lady’s hand a good bit longer than necessary for an introduction, Elise realized two could play this game. She closed her eyes a moment and took a deep breath. Then she faced her admirers with renewed charm.

  Elise hated to lose.

  Lord Edmond bowed, “My lady, I believe this dance is mine.”

  Elise hoped her smile reached her eyes as she laid her hand on his and allowed him to lead her into the crowd on the floor. And so it went. Dance after dance. Until the evening finally ended for the two young ladies and Lady Sewell.

  At home, before climbing into her bed, she said a prayer that she was doing the right thing. Because for the first time in a week, Michael hadn’t come to greet her, hadn’t even acknowledged her presence all night. All she had to rely on were Beverly’s assurances that he had, in fact, never taken his eyes off her.

  The next morning brought a flurry of activity once again to Caversham House. Footmen moved furniture, flower deliveries were made, and upstairs, Beverly finished packing her belongings for the move to her father’s townhouse. Lord Hepplewhite sent a note to his daughter informing her of his arrival in town and with a squeal and dance, Beverly begged to be off to meet with him, promising to return in plenty of time to ready herself for her momentous evening. This left Elise quite alone for the first time in months.

  She sent word to have her mare saddled, thinking the morning a beautiful one for a ride through the park. Donning her favorite habit and gloves, she topped her head with a stylish hat sporting a dyed ostrich feather plume.

  Waiting in the foyer for the horse and groom, she spotted Michael leaving Ren’s office. She wanted to dive into another room to wait for him to depart, but it was too late. He’d seen her as well.

  “Good morning, Elise. Off for a ride?”

  “Yes, I feel the need for fresh air and sunshine.” She hoped she sounded bored enough to dissuade him from joining her. He was handsome as usual this morning, and she hated him for it, but there was something else about him she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Then she wondered at how—or more precisely with whom—he’d spent his evening after leaving the Purvis’ ball. A twinge of jealousy toward the possible other woman gnawed at her.

  “Good. Good,” he said. “Enjoy the day, then.”

  With that, he was gone. Out the front door, up on his waiting horse before she could shut her gaping mouth. What? No biting sarcasm in return? Was he feeling well?

  She didn’t have long to ponder those questions because the groom arrived with her mare and his own gelding. He handed her up into the saddle and followed her into the park at an appropriate distance. Once she rounded the far side of the Serpentine, she cued her mare into a steady canter and relished the breeze on her face.

  Elise had to prepare herself for the very real possibility that he would never love her as she loved him. He had kissed her and found her kiss lacking, and probably didn’t know how to let her down without hurting her. Ignoring her was his way of doing the deed.

  Damn coward.

  Elise turned off the bridal path and jumped a log here and there before slowing down and turning for home.

  She needed a change of scenery. When she returned to the house, she would ask Lia if it would be appropriate to quit town for Haldenwood after Beverly’s ball tonight—for at least a week, preferably two. She really was tired of this social schedule young ladies were expected to keep and missed her horses at home. In the letter she’d received yesterday from their stable manager at Haldenwood, three of the four foals that were due from her new mares had been born over the past two days. She wanted to see them, and check on the progress of the horses in training.

  A spark of self-doubt caused by Michael’s actions the night before threatened to spread. Going home for a few weeks would be the coward’s way out of an uncomfortabl
e situation. If she went home to Haldenwood she would be running away from the pain, of watching Michael court another, perhaps even Lady Caroline Randolph. Rather than facing those emotions head on and coming to terms with his indifference to her, she would be running.

  As her brother’s friend and business partner, Elise would be forced to see Michael, and occasionally hear her brother speak of him, even if he married another. It was pain she must learn to abide whether she lived at Haldenwood or—heaven forbid—was exiled to The Box, which according to her brother was so far from Aberdeen there were no humans for miles.

  “Lady Elise!” A male voice called from behind her.

  Elise turned around to see Sinclair coming toward her, his team of pacers winded and breathing hard. She stopped her mare off the path and allowed him to catch up to her. She wondered if he was now ready to apologize for not showing up for their ride earlier that week.

  “Mister Sinclair, how good to see you.” She dropped a glance to his horses. “Exercising your team I see.”

  Sinclair looked at her somewhat sheepishly and continued. “I must explain what happened and apologize for not taking you on our appointed ride the other day.” Elise looked back at her groom resting some twenty feet away, and relaxed. She turned back to Sinclair. “You see, I went to speak to your brother that morning and—” Elise thought he looked both sad and embarrassed. “—and his grace would not give me permission to take you for a drive. In fact, he warned me away from you.”

  Elise was surprised at this, not only because Sinclair appeared harmless, but that Ren would do this without telling her. He had to have had his reasons, but out of courtesy he should have told her as he knew she had been waiting on him that day.

  Sinclair turned to her with his handsome visage sincere with regret.

  “I didn’t want you to think that I never showed for our appointed ride. The truth is I’d been told not to return. As I have abided by his grace’s warning, when I saw you I felt I owed you this explanation as I do hold you in high esteem.”