by Amelia Hart
Next to her, Lydia grinned. "You have to do more than just flounce about. If you want to prove yourself to your lady love, you must do some great deed. Otherwise what good are you as a knight errant?"
"I wish there were still dragons alive in the world. I'd lay the head of one at your feet," he swore, and his tone was too ardent. Elizabeth shifted in her seat.
"That sounds awfully mucky," said Lydia. "Surely there's something more useful a paramour can do? You should buy her something rare and expensive. Women love that."
Elizabeth shook her head for the benefit of them both, and stared away into the swirl of guests that filled the great ballroom. There was a short, uncomfortable silence. "Perhaps you could fetch me a glass of champagne. I'm parched," she finally offered.
"At once." He sprang to his feet and eeled through the crowd, his boyishly slender figure swiftly swallowed up.
"I know it's the fashion to have a cicisbeo languishing at one's feet," said Lydia, "but he's rather too florid for my taste. You should rein him in a little. Or do you like all that flattering stuff?"
"It's not that I like it, though the attention is gratifying after-Well, it is better than being ignored. But even if I hated it, I'm not sure how to politely tell him to stop."
"I don't think polite will do the trick. Be brutal. He's infatuated with you. You'll have a devil of a time moderating him."
"He is very headstrong." Elizabeth sighed. Michael had morphed from a pleasantly familiar escort to intensely amorous. His attentions had been a balm to her abraded spirit. Now they became uncomfortably passionate.
"If someone had told me you'd take a lover straight after marriage, I'd have said they didn't know you. You're quite unexpected. You're aware you're supposed to wait until you give the Earl an heir, aren't you?" Lydia's smile was lazily amused. There was very little she took seriously.
"Of course he's not my lover-"
"There's no 'of course' about it. You're alone, and your husband is still racketing about the countryside. You're young and pretty, Seton goes with you everywhere and you allow it. He talks like that to you and you laugh it off. Plenty will think - probably do think - you've already cuckolded Carhampton."
Elizabeth stared at her, wide-eyed. "No. Surely not."
"Yes, of course. What else should they imagine? A natural enough foible when he doesn't trouble himself to take you in hand. A young wife given too much freedom and the run of the town," Lydia's voice had taken on the pompous overtones of an elderly matron, "what can he expect? If he doesn't mind his marriage bed there'll be a cuckoo in it."
"There won't!" hissed Elizabeth. "How can you say such a thing? As if I didn't know better. Besides, that would be a horrid thing to do to a man. I shan't, no matter what-I shan't. That's all. You should know me well enough-"
"Oh, I do. Don't fret. You're too sad and restless to be satisfying yourself in bed with a young buck, even an untutored sprout like that one." Elizabeth looked at her under lowered brows, shoulders hunched defensively. "You needn't frown at me like that. You know I'm the last person in the world to judge you, whatever you choose."
Since Elizabeth returned from Devon, Lydia had suddenly become much more outrageous in conversation. Elizabeth knew her friend assumed certain congress had taken place between her and Lord Carhampton, and had lowered a boundary she had never been aware stood between them. Now she was not quite sure what to make of her old chum. She had changed so much from when they were young girls meeting at church. Now she was married to a much older baron and had the running of her own household, and there was a knowing quality about her that was fascinating and vaguely unsettling.
"I don't want to be an object of gossip. I haven't done anything risqué with Mi-Mr Seton and I don't plan to."
Lydia shrugged. "People will always gossip. You are a countess now. Don't worry so much. With your marriage consummated Lord Carhampton can't put you aside, even if you-"
"It isn't consummated."
"What? But-What were you doing in the countryside those three weeks, if not securing your marriage?" Lydia's dark eyes were wide and intrigued.
"Don't ask me. Chastity wasn't my idea. I did everything I could think of to encourage him. He-" she swallowed hard, "he rejected me completely."
"I never heard he was incapable. Though in fact I did not hear much of him before he inherited. Deeply involved in politics, very dutiful, very good-looking though cool with it. I saw him give one of his speeches once, you know."
"Did you?"
"Reginald dragged me to some rally. Trying to broaden my mind, I think. A futile exercise, as I could have told him. I don't even remember what your husband said, exactly, but he was certainly far more attractive and compelling with a soapbox and a point to make. Something about improving housing for the poor, I think. My confounded fuzzy memory. Anyway, I did watch him more closely after that for a while, but to no avail. He was too absorbed for mischief."
"Did you-Were there ever rumors of a fiancée?"
Lydia tilted her head to one side, her eyebrows raised. "Not that I ever heard. What did he tell you?"
"A secret engagement, though I've no idea who. She-He said she killed herself."
"Really? That's dreadful. Well of course that will have been hushed up, whoever it was. But that's beside the point. He's married to you now-"
"It's not beside the point if he's still in love with her."
"That's why he froze you out?"
"From what he said, it must be. He told me . . . the marriage was only for my dowry." Her voice was very soft, her head lowered, and a tear slid out of one eye and made a small, wet circle on the wrist of her glove.
"Oh, sweetheart." Lydia picked up Elizabeth's hand and pressed it between her own. "And you were so excited about your love match. How beastly. Cruel of him to tell you so. What was he thinking?"
"I don't know. I don't-It was so foolish of me, to imagine it was more than that. I wanted to believe it. And he let me think it was true-"
"Of course he did. Fortune hunters are all the same. At least you have a title out of it. And if he plans to leave you to your own devices in London, life will be pleasant enough. Though if I were you I'd go back to him, get yourself properly enceinte and get that out of the way. He'll need his heir and then your life is your own."
"How am I to do that if he won't even touch me-"
"Darling, there are a hundred ways a woman can seduce a man and have what she wants of him, whatever he has decided."
Elizabeth shivered. "I don't think I could do that."
"It only takes a little courage. Likely you'll even enjoy it. He's a well made man and I doubt he's cruel, with such high ideals. More likely he'll-"
"No, not the-I don't mean the physical act." Though that would be challenge enough. "To manipulate him to do something he doesn't want to seems wrong. I don't-"
"I do love you, you naive thing. Let him see what he is denying himself and he'll be willing enough. He thinks he doesn't want you out of some idea he has in his head of staying faithful to a dead woman. Well pardon me, but he is alive, young and virile, and a man like that can't stay chaste for long based only on a memory."
"He doesn't want me. He looked at me like he-As if he hated me."
Lydia sighed. "Perhaps he has some odd notion in his head. I say you think too hard. Only creep into his bed naked one night and fondle him in his sleep. The thing will be done before you can blink. There will be no turning back. He'll have to resign himself to-"
"I'm not going to do that! That's tantamount to rape."
"You can't rape a man, silly."
"Of course you can, if he's unwilling. Lydia." Her tone held reproach.
"Don't be so horrified, puss. You are so young, everything seems black and white to you. I think a man who tricks an heiress into marriage for her dowry cannot expect to get everything his own way. Let him see what it is to have his choices taken out of his hands."
"I won't. That's the end of it."
"Oh, very well then. Just as you please. Though mind you if you carry on as you have with your young Lothario," she tilted her head to indicate Michael, returning with two glasses of champagne, "you're likely to have an outraged Earl demanding his marriage rights. Nothing like competition to quell complacency."
With Michael at her elbow, Elizabeth could not respond to Lydia's shocking advice. What would she say, anyway? Their perspective was obviously vastly different. Could Lydia be right? No, surely not.
She took the champagne and thanked Michael, then surveyed the room as she sipped. It was a fashionable crowd, elevated enough that her parents had not received invitations. Not that Mama had seemed at all put out, as she had clutched the newly-arrived invitation and crowed with delight in the drawing room of Lord Carhampton's town house. A moment later she had covered her mouth and blushed over the indelicate sound.
"Pardon me. But oh, what a coup. You must go, of course. See if Michael is going. If so he can escort you. I don't know if you'll be acquainted with many others there-"
"The Beaumonts are going."
"Lydia and her baron." Mama smiled and nodded. "I have always enjoyed that girl. So very vivacious, and she's done well. She's so fashionable these days. You should cultivate her friendship more than you do. I know she likes you."
"And I her. I have seen more of her lately."
"Well of course, you are invited to the same events, now. Follow her lead and she will introduce you everywhere. There is a woman who knows how to go on in society. Lively and amusing but never de trop."
"I look forward to when you and Papa will be there."
"You must not expect us to hang about you. We won't taint your success. But you may sponsor your sisters and they should do very well. We'll keep to the background."
"I can't think that's right. It's hardly what I owe you-"
"Hush, now. Never mind about us. We know exactly what we do. What you've achieved is everything we've dreamed of. When you are the mother of the heir to the earldom, I'll know my whole life has been worthwhile."
"Oh, Mama, I-That is I don't know if-"
"Don't worry if it takes a little time. Sometimes a first baby does. That's how I was with you. In the meantime you can enjoy society to the utmost. Let Lydia be your guide, and also Mrs Holbrook. She seems particularly fond of you, and so very dignified. I admit I feel very gauche next to her, but I can't think that's her fault."
"I'm sure she would not think it of you. She is the kindest, most gracious woman, once you get to know her."
"So she seems to you, and I have to like her for that. She has invited you to the Holbrooks's ball?"
"Yes, and bade me come and watch her order everyone around in preparation, when I mentioned I was too afraid to consider hosting my own events."
"There you are. Didn't I say she was fond of you? You do please everywhere you go, my dear. Any time you feel doubt in yourself, you must remember that. Chin up, you are a countess, and everyone likes you."
"Yes, Mama." But Elizabeth thought of Lord Carhampton's cold eyes as he told her, 'I married you for your money,' and was not cheered by Mama's biased statement.
Even here, in the midst of all these people, she was restless and dissatisfied. Michael's attention did not heal the gaping wound Lord Carhampton had left with his declaration. Her husband's opinion could not be dismissed. Every time she thought of it, she wanted to lie down in the darkness and cry and not move for days. Her husband did not love her. Did not even like her. Would rather she was gone completely.
London did not feel far enough away from him. But at least her family was here, and her friends. She could fill her days with visits and outings, her evenings with dinners, balls and routs, and not think of him for minutes or sometimes even an hour at a time.
But when she did think of him, she saw his face, coldly aristocratic even when he was tired and grimy. The flat look in his glazed eyes, his dull voice - it was easy to see he mourned the love of his life, dead and gone forever.
Elizabeth was an obstacle to him. The unpleasant price he must pay to secure the money needed to do his duty. He sacrificed himself on that altar. Of course he did not want to touch her. Even looking at her must revolt him.
"You've gone a very unpleasant color. Are you alright?" Lydia said.
"I don't feel very well. But it will pass."
"Shall we dance?" Michael said. "That always livens your spirits."
She looked up into his young face, open and attractive, lightly freckled and adoring, and felt the recklessness that had beset her so often lately.
She put her hand in his. "Absolutely." Never mind what Lydia said. Let people watch her, if they wanted. Let them gossip, and sneer. It did not matter. She needed Michael's attention; needed it to feel whole and alive. She would never be unfaithful to her vows, but here was affection and devotion, and she would take it.
But even the thought of how she used him brought her a taint of guilt, now Lydia made her consider it in a truer light.
"Michael," she said as he led her to the center of the ballroom, where couples whirled in a lively waltz. "This is not good for you, you know. To become attached to me. There is no hope for you-"
"Not as I would have wanted it, no. There has never been hope for me. Not since the moment I heard of your engagement. I should have stepped forward then, should have told you of my feelings. But I thought he had your love. Yet now it's clear he's abandoned you. You're alone and lonely, and he doesn't deserve you. I should have said something before you married. I curse-"
"Michael, please," she said, distressed by this sudden, intense spill of emotion. He spun them onto the dance floor, and she clung to his shoulder, his hand, to keep steady. "I don't think this is good for you. I should not see you any more-"
"You think I would leave you? Never, in a million lifetimes. You can't tell me I haven't made you laugh, made you happy."
"Sometimes, but you have to know I can't-"
"Then that is enough, for now. It won't be long, and I'll be ready. I've saved my allowance, and I'll soon have enough for us to flee."
"What? Michael, what did you say?"
"You heard me."
"Flee? You expect me to run away with you?"
"Of course. What else is there?"
"I couldn't possibly."
"Be reasonable. There is nothing here for you. You are wasted in an empty marriage. Together we could find happiness. In each other's arms, we could-"
"No! I couldn't. I'm sorry. You've taken this much farther than I ever meant. I didn't realize you thought-Michael, there's no way I can ever be more than a friend to you. I'm a married woman."
"You talk as if our love means nothing."
"Our love?" She faltered. Had she led him on so much? "I don't think-I truly have been glad of your company-"
"We can't talk this over here, where so many watch us. Come." He broke step, her hand still clenched in his, and tugged her off the dance floor where the crowd was thin and the nearby corridor dim.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Christopher looked out over the seething mass of dancers and guests, almost as tightly-packed on the dance floor as around the edges of it. Though his position on the stairs into the grand room was elevated, still he could not see her anywhere.
She was here. The Darrington's butler had confirmed it. This was the fourth of her planned engagements, so she would be either here or - if she had left unfashionably early - on her way home. His luck had been poor tonight. A man did not feel dignified chasing about the town after his wife, putting his nose in through a door, only to withdraw it when he was told she was elsewhere. It was hardly dignified. Yet he was not prepared to stay longer and pretend finding her was not his only goal - that he had called in to an event for his own sake.
No. There was an urgency within him to find her again, to see her face. He wanted to know that smile was back on it, that he had so effectively quenched. Specifically he wanted her to see he had arrived, and give that smile to him
; which was nonsensical.
Of course she would not smile at him like that. Not immediately. He remembered his words to her, more or less. He had been beleaguered and on the defensive, and could not recall precisely what he had said.
Her expression had made far more of an impression than his own words, truthfully. But he would apologize appropriately humbly, and she would certainly forgive him. She was such an obliging woman, hardly the sort to hold a grudge.
Then he would squire her about, and they could establish a truce, a peaceful understanding of their parallel lives. He would explain to her exactly what he wanted from her. It had been foolishness to think he could leave her at a loose end. Of course she needed clarity and a sense of purpose.
It had been very lax of him, not to consider things from her point of view. He had never really thought beyond securing her money for the sake of the earldom. That idea had been as much as he could hold on to, in those dark days.
Vaguely he remembered their conversations during their brief courtship - deliberately brief, on his side - but he truly had no idea of her expectations, or what she wanted from their marriage. Whatever it was - beyond the title - he could probably not give her. Still she would no doubt be satisfied with the sort of discreetly open relationships many ladies of the ton enjoyed.
Not that she was designed for subterfuge and secrets. She was such an open little thing.
Nor that he felt truly comfortable with the idea of her taking a lover. In fact - he looked down at his clenched fists, veins standing out on them - the idea did not sit well with him at all. Which was unjust. To deny her a loving marriage, and then also refuse her freedom to-
"Hallo, Carhampton. Hah! It will take forever to grow accustomed to that. Lord Carhampton. My Lord Earl. Your very humble servant." Lieutenant-Colonel Matthew Brinks bowed obsequiously, legs splayed on different stairs with easy athleticism.
"Clown," said Christopher, though a corner of his mouth quirked upwards. One could never be annoyed with light-hearted Matthew.