P.S. I Loathe You (Regency Rendezvous Book 8)

by Diane Darcy

  He wasn’t going to let her get away.

  He offered her his arm. “Are ye ready?”

  “Ready and willing.”

  He liked the sound of that.

  ~~~

  After she’d said goodbye to her mother, assuring her she’d keep her shawl on in the park, and climbed into the carriage with Alexander, she was in a frenzy of anticipation.

  She grinned at Alexander. “Well?”

  He grinned right back at her. “Well, what?”

  “Alexander! Don’t tease me! I barely slept a wink last night wondering what we were to do today.”

  “Mayhap a stroll in the park, after all?”

  She threw herself back against the padded seat. “Truly?” She allowed herself to pout, and closely watched his reaction.

  He smiled, amused. “Ye dinnae like the park?”

  “I like the park just fine. It’s just that after yesterday’s adventure, and the letter you gave me, I somehow expected something more thrilling!”

  He chuckled. “I can see I’m going to have to keep ye well entertained this day, else you’ll think me a liar.”

  “I certainly will.”

  “I suppose you’ll just have to see where we end up.”

  “Alexander! You’re being so mean!”

  Not truly put out with him, she was frankly enjoying the anticipation of the upcoming event probably more than she would the event itself.

  Where would they go today?

  Her family had been coming to London since she was a child, and she’d also had five seasons while she waited for her errant intended to remember her.

  At that thought, she turned her head to look out the window and tried not to let her irritation at Alexander show itself.

  Was it irritation? Or was it hurt?

  Either way, she pushed down whatever emotion was trying to rise to the surface. He was here now, and they would suit, or they wouldn’t. The thought of disappointing her parents, and the fear of society’s censure aside, no one could actually make her marry him in front of a priest.

  Travel was slow this time of day with vendors, horse carts, and people blocking the way, so as they rode along, she continued to glance out the window as she felt vulnerability and more than a touch of insecurity rise within her.

  She glanced at her companion.

  Large, handsome, and agreeable—she had to admit she found the man attractive.

  But did he find her so, as well?

  This man had wounded something within her when she was a young girl, made her question her desirability over the years, not just for him, but for other men, and she felt resentment bubble within her.

  Some of the fun drained out of the situation, and she tried to capture it again with a forced smile. “Well, we passed the park.”

  “Have we, then?” His own smile was teasing in return, but his gaze seemed to have sharpened and he studied her as if trying to read her thoughts.

  “I’m trying to think what’s down this road. Are we to attend a meeting of the astrological society?”

  “Is that an interest of yours?”

  “Not really.”

  “Then ’tis a good thing we are not to attend.”

  “Are we to go birdwatching?”

  “I seem to have forgotten my field glasses.”

  She grinned at him, glad to feel her mood lighten once more. “I don’t suppose the theater is open this time of day?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.”

  “You know, as you’ve been away from London for so many years, I’m having to ask myself what sort of entertainments you could possibly know about.”

  Just then they turned down a side street, and his grin widened. “I suppose ye’re just about to find out.”

  When the carriage stopped, he helped her down and within moments, they were knocking on a big black door adorned with a brass lion-head door knocker.

  She glanced around. The area looked slightly seedy, and not at all the type of location in which her mother would wish her to loiter. “What is this place?” She whispered.

  Just then, several other people arrived and the door was opened by a tall, thin butler, his face impassive as he ushered the group of them inside.

  The residence was small, and they were quickly escorted into a parlor that hosted a large table with chairs arranged about it. Several people were already there, and the rest of them were instructed to seat themselves.

  “What is this?”

  The young lady to her right, a maid wearing a grey dress, fichu and cap, overheard and answered. “Mrs. Trimble holds a séance every Wednesday afternoon. The woman is a wonder.” The young girl at her side sounded impressed and excited.

  Lizzie slid her gaze to Alexander and smiled. “First a fortune-teller, now a séance? I don’t suppose you paid someone to assure me of my good fortune in marrying you?”

  A startled laugh escaped Alexander. “Had I thought it through, my dear, I’d have gladly parted with the coin and done so.”

  Most of the people around the table spoke in whispers, but after a few moments, everyone seemed to relax and speak normally.

  Lizzie looked around the room, at the garish red drapes, the vases, the glass plates decorating the wall, and the dried herbs and flowers sticking out of vases giving the room a slightly earthy aroma.

  At the head of the table was a chair that resembled a throne, and Lizzie couldn’t help but remember Lady Griselda’s chair from the day before. Apparently the chair indicated the importance of the fortune-teller.

  “I’m starting to trust that you might be a true believer.”

  Alexander laughed. “I’m much more interested in entertaining you.”

  “And I strike you as the type that visits Gypsies, do I?”

  He leaned forward so that his mouth almost brushed her ear. “Actually, ye strike me as the type who likes excitement.” He breathed the last word into her ear, and she shivered.

  Before she could respond, a short, plump woman swept into the room. She was wearing an extraordinary hat adorned wildly with feathers, fruit, and even a stuffed pigeon.

  “Hello, my dears!”

  Lizzie pressed her lips together at the Cockney’s attempt at a Romanian accent. “I am Mrs. Trimble. I see that we have a goodly crowd among us this day.” The woman’s eyes gleamed, and Lizzie could practically see her counting the money she’d make.

  She promptly took her seat, squirmed about on her large backside until she seemed to find exactly the position she wanted, and then sat back with a pleased sigh. Lizzie found her gaze was riveted to the woman; she simply couldn’t look away.

  The “gypsy” held her hands out, one to the well-dressed man to her right, and the other to the young girl seated beside Lizzie. “Let us all grasp hands.”

  A quick glance toward Alexander assured her that he was amused as well.

  Lizzie took the young lady’s hand to her right, and then offered her other hand to Alexander.

  Even through the thin white glove she wore, his hand seared her own. Large and warm, she was unprepared for the zing of attraction, and the shiver it engendered.

  Another glance at Alexander made her wonder if he felt the same.

  He squeezed her fingers with his own, and then rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand.

  She suppressed the second shiver, worried he’d see her reaction. Taking a deep breath, she turned her attention back to the woman seated at the head of the table.

  “I do thank you all for coming this day. I do this every Wednesday, and am considering adding Fridays to the schedule as there is much interest in the other world visible to me.”

  She glanced around as if to gage the impact of her words on her audience. “Tell your friends, bring your families—one and all are welcome to delight and benefit from the valuable and unique insights that only I am capable of providing.”

  Alexander squeezed her hand once again, and she had to bite the inside of her lip to keep from smiling.

&nb
sp; “For those of you who are new here, let me explain. I have two spirit advisers, whom I call upon at will. Is there anything anyone here would like to know from the great beyond this day?”

  She looked around expectantly, her gaze landing upon Alexander and Lizzie. As they were obviously the best dressed there, Lizzie couldn’t help but suspect her motivation came from the money she was hoping to receive. Valuable insights, indeed.

  “I have a question.” She was surprised when Alexander spoke up. “I, for one, am wondering who I am to marry.” Alexander’s gaze was challenging as he looked at the woman, almost as if he was daring her to give him what he wanted, or face the consequences.

  Again, Lizzie bit the inside of her lip to keep from smiling, and glanced down at the lace covered table.

  The older lady sitting across from them laughed, but quickly stifled the sound when Mrs. Trimble glanced her way.

  “Does anyone else have a question?”

  Soon everyone at the table threw out concerns, some about their health, others about their fortunes, and another wanting to communicate from the great beyond. Lizzie finally spoke up.

  “What I’d like to know is if it’s possible for a man to be attracted to one type of female, and then later, favor another type who is completely the opposite.”

  She felt Alexander tense, his hand gripping hers tighter, before slowly releasing pressure.

  “All right, we will begin.”

  Out of the corner of her eye she could see Alexander staring at her. But she kept her focus on Mrs. Trimble, who closed her eyes tight.

  “I will now call upon my guides in the spirit world. Felix, are you there? Esther, will you come?” A moment later, Mrs. Trimble’s eyes looked fierce and different in her chubby, round face.

  “Who wishes to speak to us this day?”

  The woman dropped the accent, and spoke in a completely different voice. Lower, more melodious, and Lizzie felt chills run up her back. She gripped Alexander’s hand tightly.

  Her gaze wandered around the people sitting at the table, finally landing upon Alexander. “You wish to know your bride, and yet she sits at your side.” The voice, seem to slither out of Mrs. Trimble and rebuke him.

  “Still, ’tis nice to have the confirmation.” Alexander spoke in a normal tone, breaking a bit of the spell Mrs. Trimble’s voice had cast upon them all.

  Her gaze next landed upon Lizzie. Once again, Lizzie could not help the cynical voice in her head that assured her that the spiritualist was catering to the best dressed in the room. “As for yourself, girl, your question is much more telling. The answer I give you, is one for the ages. Men are attracted to all sorts of women: different shapes, sizes, hair colors.” The woman’s gaze landed upon Lizzie’s flaming hair. “But it is the lady that he gets to know, the one with whom he shares his concerns and joys, the one who understands him—she, and she alone, will be the flame he’s drawn to.”

  The medium captured Lizzie’s gaze and gave her a meaningful stare, and Lizzie’s heart started to thud.

  As Mrs. Trimble turned away and answered the other concerns in the room, Lizzie didn’t hear a word she was saying.

  She thought about the letters she’d shared with Alexander over the years. She’d certainly shared her concerns, her happiness, and frankly the events going on in her life.

  She’d used the man as a journal of sorts, letting him in to her life, and looking forward to the letters she received in return.

  And hadn’t he done the same? He’d told her where he was, where he was going, the names of men who’d fallen and meant something to him.

  He’d enjoy commenting on her family and friends, and she enjoyed his insights.

  They had been as friends, if not love interests.

  And she felt that lack. His flaming disinterested in her as an adolescent, well, she carried those feelings of inadequacy with her to this day, and interpreted his lack of affection, his unadorned letters lacking in endearments of any kind, as his lack of interest in her as a woman.

  But he had shared his concerns.

  They had been friends.

  With all this whirling around in her mind, she barely noted when they were all excused.

  Chairs were pushed back, money left on the table, and soon, Alexander escorted her out the door and led her toward the carriage.

  “Weel? What did ye think?”

  She looked at his face, perhaps more clearly than she had since he’d come back into her life.

  Strong, handsome, male.

  Attractive, sensual, male.

  She felt a tiny spark of hope flair within her chest.

  He was trying so hard to please her with these entertainments, making no bones about the fact that he was trying to capture her attention.

  As the horses pulled away, he sent her a quizzical look and she realized that perhaps—just perhaps—there could be some hope for them after all.

  ~~~

  As Lizzie watched him, it was all he could do not to blurt out what he was truly thinking. The question that he really wished answered was: was she talking about him when she wondered what attracted a man? Or was it the cowboy that she’d seemed to have a tendre for the other night?

  The first possibility filled him with incredulity. There was no way she could not know he was attracted to her. He gazed at her once more, at her fine, delicate features. Her red hair as it contrasted against her creamy skin, the way she filled out her dress.

  He could hardly keep his eyes off of her, and could hardly credit she had not noticed. What did he have to do? Drag her across his lap, and kiss her senseless? The idea definitely had appeal, but he didn’t want her to think him an animal, did he? He could control himself, and he certainly didn’t wish to give her a disgust of him before they were married.

  Afterwords … well? It would be too late for her to get away then, wouldn’t it?

  Still, he couldn’t help leaning forward in his seat. He took her hand once more. “It looks like it is official. We are to be married.”

  She shot him and amused glance. “With Mrs. Trimble’s blessing? I feel so relieved.”

  “Whatever it takes to convince you.”

  “Did you pay her ahead of time?”

  He laughed, and sat back in his seat. “No need. I’m quite convinced she knew she wouldnae get a farthing out of me, if she didnae give me the answer that I wished.”

  She widened her eyes. “You don’t believe in her spirit guides? You think it was an act?”

  He chuckled. “When I was over in France, we had a Gypsy come to the camp one day. I remember watching her as she convinced a man to fetch an egg, so she could crack it to see if he had a curse upon him.”

  He liked the fact that she leaned forward, interested. “What happened?”

  “As it turned out, when she cracked the egg into a bowl, a slug swam within the egg, convincing everyone the man had a curse put upon him. She offered to remove it by taking the slug to a nearby graveyard and burying it. Thereby ending the curse for all time.”

  She laughed. “Did he give her the payment?”

  “I do believe he was about to, until I pointed out that the slug was the same type that we had been burdened with in the camp for the last week. I loudly suggested that she had palmed the thing, and released it as she cracked the egg.”

  “What did the Gypsy do?”

  “I couldn’t ken her language, but I suspect she cursed me on her way out of the camp.”

  “Any slugs in your breakfast lately?”

  He laughed out loud. “No. Though I’ve had escargot upon occasion.”

  She laughed.

  “Ye know, ’tis still early yet. Are ye up for another adventure?”

  “I am actually, though you get to be the one who talks to my mother later when you drop me off late.”

  “Leave it to me.”

  Leave everything to me, he thought, as he gazed into her beautiful face.

  ~~~

  Not too much later, they were at
a bookstore. Since this was one of Lizzie’s favorite places to go, she had to admit the man was winning points with her.

  She flipped through a book of poetry and glanced at Alexander, who was standing straight and tall a few feet away as he looked at a different book.

  She had to wonder why he was trying so hard.

  Could it be a case of a dog with a bone? She belonged to him and so that was that? He wouldn’t lose her?

  Or did he truly want her?

  “Elizabeth? I have something I wish to share with you. A poem that I wrote in my head just now, and I thought ye might like.”

  She smirked at him. “Oh, really? Now you’re a poet?”

  “Ye doubt me?” He pressed a hand to his heart. “I’m injured.”

  “I’m sure. All right, let’s hear your poetry.”

  She noted several of the ladies had perked up at his mention of poetry, and had no doubt that they were listening to every word. The shop wasn’t large enough and Alexander wasn’t quiet enough, anyway.

  She tilted her chin and looked at him and challenge. “Let’s hear it.”

  He cleared his throat. “Shall I compare ye to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and temperate to be sure.”

  She lifted a skeptical eyebrow even as she grinned at the way his Scottish pronunciation mangled the words. “You’re saying you wrote that?”

  “O’ course. I came up with that all by myself, just now.”

  A younger girl with dark hair stood behind him. She peeked over his shoulder and shook her head at Lizzie, a grin on her face.

  Lizzie glanced at the book in his hand. “I see. So William Shakespeare didn’t write it first?”

  “Of course he didnae. I have another one. Are ye ready?”

  She reined in her smile. “Oh, I’m ready all right. Let me hear it.”

  “My hope, my heaven, my trust must be, my gentle, guide, in followin’ thee. I wrote that one about you.”

  The young girl standing behind him giggled, her fingers pressed to her mouth. Again, when Lizzie met her gaze she shook her head.

  Lizzie put her hands on her hips. “You wrote that?”

  “Aye. Just now as I was reading through this book of poems.”

  “So Sir Walter Scott didn’t inspire you?”