by Anne Stuart
"I wonder if you could help me undo my dress. . . ." The words faltered on Elizabeth's tongue.
The shadowed figure turned. It was, indeed, not the maid. It was Michael Fraser. A handsome devil, Elizabeth thought wildly as a wave of embarrassment washed over her.
"I beg your pardon," she breathed, her face flushed as she tried to pull the slipping gown around her. "I thought you were the maid."
"Obviously I am not." But there was a gleam in those dark blue eyes of his, and Elizabeth began to back away hastily. "Wait, Miss Traherne," he said as he caught her wrists, his cool, impersonal hands holding her prisoner and making her uncomfortably aware of just how helpless she was. "I believe you wished your gown undone."
A Fawcett Crest Book
Published by Ballantine Books
Copyright ® 1985 by Anne Kristine Stuart Ohlrogge
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto.
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 84-91793 ISBN: 0-449-20780-3
All the characters in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Manufactured in the United States of America.
CLS 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
First Edition: April 1985
Prologue
Chapter 1
Friday
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Saturday
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Sunday
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Monday
Chapter 18
Prologue
Chapter 1
It was a cool, sunny afternoon in late winter, and somewhere in London two disparate gentlemen were meeting in an unprepossessing little room that may or may not have been part of the assorted offices necessary to the running of a large and disorderly regency. There were no paintings on the walls, but the desk between the two men was a massive piece of furniture reserved for those in power, and the troubled elderly gentleman who sat behind it stared with unseeing eyes at the cool, handsome face of the young man in front of him.
"I cannot like this situation, my boy," Sir Henry Hatchett was saying gruffly. "It ain't right to involve civilians in this sort of affair. No matter how careful we are, we can't control everything all the time. I gather Jeremy Traherne's brother and sister will be at Winfields for this houseparty."
"Surely we can count on them for assistance?" the younger man questioned swiftly.
"If we had to. But you know Traherne would never forgive us if anything happened to his family. He's making sacrifices enough for the cause. As you are, dear boy. There's a limit to how much martyrdom the Crown has a right to demand."
The word the younger man used was short and satisfyingly blasphemous. "If you were to ask Jeremy, he would tell you, as I do, that it's hardly a case of martyrdom; it's more in the nature of a challenge. You haven't heard me complain, and you're not about to. I understand your reservations about this houseparty, but tell me, sir, do we really have any other choice?"
Sir Henry sighed. "I'm afraid not. We'll simply have to be very careful, very careful indeed. A great deal is riding on this, as you well know. The work of a year, at the very least. We simply cannot have it all go for naught."
"We shan't fail, sir."
Sir Henry eyed the coolly determined young soldier opposite him. "I would guess that you won't object too strenuously to having this over and done with, would you, lad?"
"I won't deny it's been damnably uncomfortable on occasion," he agreed with an unexpected flash of humor. "Though I'd do it again if the situation warranted it."
"Aye, I'm sure you would. If it weren't for men like you and Jeremy Traherne, we'd have lost out to Bonaparte years ago."
The younger man dismissed the praise with a shrug. "Tell me, sir, do you have any reason to fear we might not succeed this time?"
"None at all," Sir Henry replied. "But I wish to hell it were over with. I won't rest easy until we have that scheming traitor brought to justice. When I think of the number of our lads who've lost their lives because of his vanity and greed, I feel frankly murderous."
"I don't blame you. But it shan't happen again. By this time on Monday our traitorous friend will be as harmless as . . . as Jeremy Traherne's sister."
Sir Henry allowed himself a small smile. "Obviously you haven't met the girl yet. According to Traherne, she's a real corker. I only hope she won't make matters more difficult. We can't afford to take her into our confidence, and I couldn't be responsible for her life if she were to find out what's going on at Winfields."
"Is there any reason she should?"
"Traherne says she's the very devil. Bright, inquisitive, and far too pretty. She was the one who found LeBoeuf, you know. Damnable luck!"
"I gather Jeremy knows she and his brother will be involved, then."
"He knows. And he doesn't like it," Sir Henry said in his gloomiest tone of voice. "But he agrees with us; there's no way to avoid it. I only hope things work out as we've planned."
The younger man's expression was grim, and Sir Henry, watching it in the fading afternoon light, felt vaguely nervous. And profoundly grateful that he was on their side and not that of the Corsican monster.
"They will," the young man said in a steely voice.
And Sir Henry had little doubt that they would.
"My dear Sumner," Elizabeth Traherne began in her well-modulated voice, "I still fail to see why we must spend the entire time with the squire. You know that his mother doesn't like us above half, and as for Cousin Adolphus himself, why, I am certain he invites us merely to puff up his own consequence and not for any desire for our lively company. Couldn't we possibly cry off this time?"
It was later that same afternoon on a winter's day, and Elizabeth had been so bold as to accost her brother in his study at the drafty old parsonage. Of all the pleasant, well-lit rooms this was the most pleasant, and Elizabeth's brother had unhesitatingly chosen it for his own. The roaring fire filled the farthest corners with heat, the winter sunlight poured in the windows, and the book-lined walls provided a perfect background to her brother's elegant figure—a background he had cultivated deliberately.
The Very Reverend Sumner Traherne cast a disapproving look out of his large, melting blue eyes, craned his neck in an effort to appear magisterial, and made a reproving sound in his throat, which, though undeniably mellifluous, was somewhat reminiscent of a boar in rut.
"You are frivolous and ungrateful, Elizabeth," he said sternly, folding his well-shaped hands across his knee. "Cousin Adolphus invites us only for our pleasure and to show me some distinguishing attention. He was so condescending as to confide his wish that you, my girl, would receive some much needed brightening of your downcast spirits. He's fully aware of the strain of the last few months, without a word from Jeremy. And your finding that drowned French sailor down at Starfield Cove scarcely helped the tone of your spirits."
Elizabeth allowed herself a momentary shudder as the memory of those blank, unseeing eyes intruded. "That unpleasant experience was hardly my fault, Sumner."
"I am not suggesting that it was. Though why you have to ride such great distances is beyond my comprehension. Still, you never were a biddable female. And little does Adolphus realize that y
our supposed meekness is merely the mask for the most unseeming levity, usually at his expense. May I remind you—"
"Whether you may or not is beside the point," she interrupted with a sigh. "You most certainly shall remind me, whether I have anything to say about it or not. I wish you wouldn't prose on so."
Again that snort issued forth from Sumner's broad chest. "Adolphus Wingert, besides being a cousin of ours, is the squire of this area, the justice of the peace, and our most generous patron. It would behoove you to show more gratitude and respect."
"I'm certain his mother would prefer that I show my respect from a distance," she murmured, unrepentant.
"And I cannot imagine what you have against Lady Elfreda. She has been all that is kind."
"She is afraid, my sweet brother, that I mean to run off with her overfed, overbearing son. It is incomprehensible to her that any female could find Adolphus something less than the embodiment of girlish dreams." She tossed her head willfully.
"I would have thought you'd be a bit past girlish dreams," he stated with a brotherly lack of tact. "As a matter of fact, Adolphus called you a very fetching young lady. You could go a lot farther and do a lot worse than marry someone like Adolphus Wingert."
"Why, Sumner." Elizabeth's eyes opened wide with surprise tinged with amusement. "I wonder that you would countenance the thought of my marrying with such equanimity. I had presumed you were expecting me to devote my life to you."
"Naturally," Sumner responded with his usual gravity. "However, an alliance with the Wingert family could only benefit my career in the long run and would do Jeremy no harm, either. And I have little doubt Adolphus would be generous enough to see to a housekeeper for me, should he decide that you might suit."
Elizabeth bit back the retort that threatened to bubble over. She tried to allow herself only one biting remark an hour, and she already had overstepped her allowance. She sighed and tried again. "I am very sensible of the honor Adolphus does me," she said meekly enough, "though I doubt there is anything serious in his attentions. And I wonder whether it is truly Christian of us, Sumner, to burden poor Lady Elfreda with worry for naught," she added. "You cannot argue that she wouldn't rather see Adolphus married to a lady of title or at least someone a bit more biddable. And a slightly more noble lineage wouldn't hurt matters, either."
"There's nothing wrong with our lineage," her brother said abruptly, his handsome face set in an intimidating frown that left Elizabeth unmoved. "The Trahernes are one of the oldest families in all Britain."
"Yes, but our ancestors were Welsh."
Sumner did not care to have disagreeable facts clouding his pontifications. "One of the oldest families in Britain," he repeated firmly. "And your portion is very nice indeed. Not that the Wingerts would have any need of your dowry, and I wouldn't doubt that Adolphus might be generous enough to turn it over to the church."
And its current incumbent, Elizabeth added, silently, accustomed to her brother's itchy palms. "I wouldn't rely on any future match, Sumner. I am hardly the type to suit Adolphus Wingert, you must admit."
For once her brother was tactful. Elizabeth could well imagine what he was thinking. Not that she was a bad- looking female, of course. How could she be, when she and her two brothers were known as the dashing Trahernes among their set? If nature had unfairly given her brothers the more spectacular good looks, she hadn't come out badly in the end, either. Without a doubt she was what might be termed a handsome young woman. Although a bit above average height, she still had the innate good sense not to tower over the majority of the gentlemen she met. Her rich chestnut hair was streaked from the sun, for she would go out hatless in their back garden despite Sumner's remonstrations. That same reckless disregard for the sun accounted for the faint spattering of freckles across her delicate nose that were still in evidence in late March. Her eyes were a warm, laughing brown, although that laughter could have an uncomfortable edge to it. Her chin and her nature were too willful, and of course she was far too opinionated and intelligent for a woman.
But then, she took very good care of Sumner, and he wasn't one to be ungrateful. He knew that he was a lucky man to have his only sister devote her life to his well- being, and it was a fortunate thing that she'd never evinced any interest in the admittedly small number of suitable gentlemen who had come her way. If truth be toldr Sumner had done his share to discourage them once Jeremy had left for the war. Elizabeth had allowed him to do so, leaving him secure in the belief that she would be far more content managing a parsonage than she would be gallivanting in the dissipated pleasures of London with some rackety gentleman.
But it appeared that Sumner's forbearance was coming to an end. In the case of Adolphus Wingert, he'd clearly decided to nobly put someone else's comfort above his own. Balanced against the good it would do his career, it wasn't wise to be too selfish. Therefore, he eyed his sister and granted her his most encouraging smile, one she distrusted above all things.
"I am certain that Adolphus Wingert could not help but appreciate a treasure such as you, my dear," he said smoothly.
"And I am sure you must have windmills in your head, Sumner," she replied frankly. "And I shan't have you encouraging that great lummoxing beast. For one thing, he's as fat as a pig, and I have a great dislike of fat men. For the time being I am quite content taking care of my skinny brother."
"For the time being?" he echoed in a hollow voice. "But what else could you possibly want to do?"
"Well, I don't expect you to end your days a bachelor, dear heart. Already you have half the ladies in the congregation swooning. Sooner or later some enterprising damsel will catch sight of that golden head of curls and that handsome face, and you'll find yourself leg shackled before you know it."
"I have no immediate plans," said Sumner, not at all displeased with this summing up of his not inconsiderable physical attractions.
"But you never know what might happen. And I doubt that your bride would care to have a managing sister-in-law about the place. So I thought I might keep house for Jeremy when he returns." A troubled look clouded her expressive face. "I suppose I should say if he returns."
"Don't be absurd, of course the boy will return," Sumner said gruffly. "Our brother leads a charmed life. Three years fighting Napoleon and not even a scratch on him."
"I trust you are right," Elizabeth said with a sigh.
"And I would think he'd be just as likely to marry as I am. He always had an eye for a pretty girl."
"If and when he does, I have other options, it is entirely possible I might still get married. I am only twenty-three. Rather ancient by some standards, but I might still be able to attract an eligible parti, someone a bit more appealing than Cousin Adolphus. A widower, perhaps, or an aging cleric. I've certainly had a great deal of experience managing a vicar's household. Or I might set up house on my own. There is more than enough money for it, and I might even have Miss Biddleford to keep me company."
"Miss Biddleford is a shameless bluestocking with the most dangerous ideas. I blame having her as your governess for all the flighty and, yes, seditious ideas that racket around in your brain."
"Sumner, you're a shocking prig," Elizabeth shot back cheerfully. "How could I have such a conservative brother? Of course, Biddy's to blame for my outrageous opinions."
"Well, I shan't allow you to set up house with her. I've never heard of anything so ridiculous in my entire life," Sumner announced, leaning back in his chair with a decisive air.
Elizabeth smiled sweetly. "My dear Sumner, you won't have any say in the matter. If you remember, my money was left entirely in my hands, not in yours or Jeremy's. You have no say over it or me."
"Father must have been demented when he wrote that will," he said, fretting. "Imagine stating that you were better equipped to handle finances than your brothers."
"But you must admit I immediately gave you control of your portion," she said demurely.
He eyed her with his usual misgivings. "I am not hap
py with you, Elizabeth. Your uncharitable attitude toward the Wingerts, your threats of disgracing yourself by running off on your own. I am deeply troubled."
For all Elizabeth's mischief making, she had a kind heart, and she reached out and touched one of Sumner's strong, elegantly shaped hands that had never known a day's hard work. "Don't fret yourself, Sumner. As long as you keep from meddling with Adolphus Wingert, I will restrain my wanderlust until Jeremy comes back. We've rubbed along very well together the past three years, and I am perfectly content. But I will tell you one last time: I have no wish to marry our portly cousin." This was said with a great deal of kindness accompanied by a sternness that brooked no argument, and as usual Sumner capitulated in the face of a stronger will than his own.
"Very well," he said somewhat sulkily. "It is your life, I suppose. Though how you can whistle such an advantageous match down the wind is more than I can understand. Haven't you any loyalty? Think what it could mean to my career."
"My dear, I would immolate myself for you, slave for you, manage your household and your accounts, counsel your parishioners, lead your choir, and write your sermons, but I will not marry Adolphus Wingert."
"You don't write my sermons," he said hotly. "You may make a few suggestions and help with the phrasing and such, but the main kernel of thought is my own, and it is up to me which of your flighty suggestions I might possibly heed." Sumner's angelically beautiful face was red with annoyance, and his blue eyes with their absurdly long lashes were narrowed in fury.
"Of course, Sumner," Elizabeth said meekly, cursing once more her unruly tongue for speaking the unpalatable truth. "I didn't mean to suggest otherwise."
She could tell by his sly expression that her brother had recognized her contrition and intended to make full use of it. "Then you will agree to accompany me to Winfields? it should be charming—only family, Lady Elfreda tells me. Her brother-in-law, the general, might be there, with a few close friends. It should be a delightful time."