“Lady Marsh.” Grandmother did not seem pleased by the lady’s appearance. She was immediately engaged in a rather heated discussion on the topic of someone named Petra.
Elizabeth looked away. Lady Marsh’s face turned red as she debated Grandmother.
“Lady Kelso, how wonderful to see you out and about. I wondered if I might see you here.”
Elizabeth turned with a polite smile. The gentleman standing before her was vaguely familiar. He was older, with a spectacular mustache. She couldn’t quite place him.
“My goodness, I didn’t make an impression on you when we met at Sir Lendon’s, did I?” He chuckled good-naturedly. “I shall have to strive to be more entertaining this evening.”
Of course, she’d met him at Lendon’s. “Oh, Mr. Ogden.” The name came to her. She allowed him to take her hand in greeting. Kelso had introduced them at Lendon’s reception. “I’m so sorry. I’ve met so many new people recently.”
“Not a bit of worry, Lady Kelso. I’m told I have a most average and sometimes unmemorable face. Where is Lord Kelso this evening? Surely you are not without escort?”
“I expect him soon. He had some business to attend to,” she lied. “My brother-in-law, Lord Kilmaire, was most kind to escort me this evening. And Lady Cambourne.” She nodded to her grandmother, whose voice had raised an octave in her discussion with Lady Marsh.
Ogden looked at the two women arguing and walked Elizabeth a few paces away.
She and Mr. Ogden chatted pleasantly for several minutes before he admitted to his love of horticulture. She told him of the plans she had made for the gardens of Kelso’s home and asked his opinion of various species of flowering vines.
He had just begun to explain the difficult grafting of his rose bushes, when a breeze, blew into the ballroom. The evening was chilly, but compared to the heat in the room the air felt heavenly against her skin. Elizabeth caught a whiff of damp earth and grass.
Mr. Ogden noticed her interest. “It’s become quite stifling in here, hasn’t it?”
“Terribly,” she agreed.
“Lady Kelso, forgive me for being so bold, but would you care for a turn about the terrace? I realize the air is a bit chilly, but there are torches lit and we will have a view of the gardens. Lady Quartermaine has planted a row of climbing roses along one wall and I confess, while they aren’t blooming, I’d like the opportunity to examine them closer.” He gave a quiet laugh. “Not a terribly exciting venture, I grant you.”
Elizabeth liked Mr. Ogden. He barely made her uncomfortable. And since he knew her husband…well, had known her husband, it was unlikely Mr. Ogden posed any threat to her at all. “I suppose it’s the least I can do, considering you’ve listened to me gush over my herb garden.”
“Not at all. I’ve learned quite a bit about rosemary, possibly more than necessary,” he said with a soft chuckle.
“You’ll thank me when your cook seasons your dinner properly. And I should enjoy a brief respite.” Her fingers hovered before landing delicately on his forearm. This was the hardest part. The awkward touching.
If Kelso ever appeared, he’d be immensely proud of her.
45
He had barely moved in the last hour.
Spence looked out the window. The finest carriages in London stretched down the street from the Quartermaine’s as far as the eye could see. At this rate, the bloody event would be over before he could collect his wife, which wouldn’t do at all. The Dowager Marchioness’s note had been exceptionally clear.
Lord Kelso,
Elizabeth is miserable and making us all more so with her constant melancholy over the separation from you, her husband. While I adore my granddaughter, I would prefer her visit not become permanent. I would consider it a great favor if you retrieved her from the Quartermaine ball this evening and took her home.
Lady D. Cambourne.
Porter inched the vehicle a few feet closer, the horses stamping their feet at the close quarters.
Spence had had enough of this nonsense. Stupid to wait in line when he didn’t even possess an invitation for the ball. No invitation also meant there was no compelling reason to make his way through a receiving line stretching out the door. Rapping on the top of the coach, he yelled at Porter. “I’ll walk the remainder of the way. Park the coach. I’ll find you later. Stay alert.”
Spence hopped out and strolled toward the stately home of Lord Quartermaine. The crowd was even worse the closer he got. What a collection of pretentious snobbery preening in their finery awaiting entrance. Thank goodness he didn’t have an invitation. Much easier to go around back. As it was, Spence was beginning to worry he’d never find his wife in this seething pit of polite manners, gossip, fripperies and lace.
Bloody hell. He wanted his wife. Now. He planned to take full responsibility for their separation. Beg her forgiveness. Promise not to behave like such an ass again, knowing full well he likely would. He’d do whatever she wished. If Elizabeth didn’t agree, Spence planned to kidnap his wife and take her to Beckford Abbey.
He lit a cheroot with a flick of his wrist and made his way around the corner of the Quartermaine property. The terrace and gardens behind the house were just visible over the top of the stone wall circling the house. Couples strolled along the lit paths but most of the gardens stayed in shadow. No one would even notice him dropping in, so to speak.
The stone wall presented no challenge, and he scaled it easily, the cheroot clutched tightly between his teeth. With a grunt he flung himself over the side, frowning when he heard his coat tear, catching on the spikes adorning part of the wall.
“Shit.” Spence pulled his coat free from the spike, looking at the tear. Minnow, his unfortunately named valet, would not be pleased with Spence’s treatment of the new coat. He’d gone without a valet for so long, Minnow rarely had enough to do. He looked down at the tear. Now the valet would have something to occupy him.
Spence approached the terrace, just as the silhouette of a young woman strolled out from the ballroom. A gentleman followed in her wake as music filtered into the gardens. The gentleman was talking to the woman, making a joke and steering her adroitly out of the light to a more secluded location of the balcony, no doubt to steal a kiss.
He took another drag of his cheroot, deciding he’d have to stay hidden until the couple disappeared back inside. The last thing he needed was some dandy squealing in fear at Spence’s sudden appearance. He wished the pair would hurry up with their kiss. The assortment of idiots inside were probably circling his wife like sharks. Elizabeth was far too beautiful not to attract the attention of anything possessed of a cock.
The woman above him on the balcony laughed at something her companion said, a familiar throaty sound which never failed to arouse Spence.
“Son of a bitch.” He cursed, grinding the cheroot beneath his heel.
* * *
“Oh, this is immeasurably better,” Elizabeth said as she walked carefully across the terrace to the balcony overlooking the gardens. “The air inside had grown stuffy.” She inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of the gardens before her, even though nothing bloomed this late in the year. “I’d so much rather be outside than indoors.”
“Lady Quartermaine has a topiary or two.” Mr. Ogden moved closer to stand directly behind Elizabeth. “I believe a stag and a doe. Just over there.” He pointed to a dark portion of the garden.
He was much too close for comfort. Elizabeth’s anxiety over social situations such as this had greatly been reduced but hadn’t gone completely. Not in such close quarters and especially not without Kelso at her side.
She stepped forward, trying to maintain a polite distance.
“Gray Covington is possessed of a topiary garden, isn’t it?”
“Yes, we’ve several monkeys cavorting across the lawn,” Elizabeth answered. “An entire family, in fact. Our gardener is quite an artist.”
“Are they large enough to hide away in, Lady Kelso?” Mr. Odgen asked with amusement
.
“How did you guess?” Elizabeth and Miranda had often escaped to hide from Mother in one of the monkeys, though Miranda was much older, making it difficult to fit in any but the largest of the trio. Dread whipped up her spine at the thought of her mother. Elizabeth prayed she was gone for good.
“My uncle possessed a pride of lions on his back lawn,” Mr. Ogden said. “As a child I would run past them as quickly as possible, terrified one would come to life. Imagine my surprise one day when a stray branch, pushed by the wind and not trimmed properly by the gardener, grabbed at my breeches. I screamed out loud for help, certain I was being attacked. I believe I was all of four.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I often wanted the monkeys to be real.”
Placing her hands on the stone railing, Elizabeth looked out into the garden, admiring the small glimpse of the pathways she could see. The smell of a cheroot tickled her nose. Someone was smoking in the gardens below her. Cheroots were a nasty habit, one her husband often indulged in.
Longing for Kelso hit her squarely in her chest.
Mr. Ogden sidled closer. “Shame on Lord Kelso,” Mr. Ogden’s hand fell on her forearm, “for abandoning his beautiful wife this evening. I can’t believe he prefers the attractions of Elysium to yours.”
Before Elizabeth could reply the bushes below her stirred.
“Yes, shame on me. And I don’t prefer Elysium’s attractions, by the way.” An annoyed, gravelly voice floated toward Elizabeth as a shadowed figure appeared below her. “I’ll make sure my wife gets enough air, Ogden. Nor will you be visiting the topiaries in Quartermaine’s garden with her.”
Kelso swung up one arm and gracefully lifted himself over the stone balustrade to face Elizabeth. He didn’t appear to be happy.
“Kelso,” she said.
Ogden stiffened behind her. She could practically smell his fear. “Good evening, Kelso. I didn’t realize you’d been invited.”
“I wasn’t.” Kelso stared back at the startled Ogden with no small amount of menace. Anger hovered in the air above the balcony, mixing with the scent of freshly turned earth. Her husband gave a pointed stare at Ogden’s hand which still lay on Elizabeth’s arm.
“Kindly remove your hand from my wife or I shall take great pleasure in severing it from your body.” His voice lowered to a dangerous purr.
Ogden jerked his arm free. “There’s no need for you to—”
“Begone, Ogden.” Kelso advanced another step. “Run back inside.”
“Good evening, Lady Kelso.” Mr. Ogden bowed to her formally, his embarrassment clear in the dim light of the torches. “I enjoyed our conversation. Good luck with your gardens.”
“Mr. Ogden.” Elizabeth inclined her head.
Kelso made a sound reminiscent of an angry dog as Ogden scurried away.
She was ridiculously, terribly happy to see him. “Was that necessary?” The blood hummed through her veins at the sight of his lean, dangerous form set off to beautiful perfection in his formal evening clothes.
The amber eyes shone gold in the torchlight. “Hello, Lady Kelso.”
46
“You’ve not a shred of sense coming out here with him, little nun.”
“Novice.” She gave an exasperated sigh.
“Neither.”
It was difficult to think clearly with Elizabeth so near him. Her hair, black as sin, was pulled back from the delicate oval of her face with a small spray of curls about her temples and one long spiral left to dangle over her shoulder. Her gown, a deep mauve of brushed velvet, clung to each curve of her glorious breasts, begging for his touch. The bodice was lined with silver, shimmering with each breath she took. And the neckline? Worse than the gown she’d worn to Lendon’s.
“I’m fairly certain Ogden was harmless. You terrified him.” There was a slight tremor in her voice.
He couldn’t tell if she was happy to see him or not. Christ, I’m a bloody fool.
“Ogden should know better than attempt to stroll a darkened balcony with my wife,” Spence countered. “The neckline of that dress is…obscene.” He nearly choked looking at the tempting display of flesh. “Your nipples are about to pop out.”
“Stop exaggerating. Is that what you came to tell me? You disapprove of my gown?”
“Any gentleman with loose morals could easily take advantage of you.”
She raised a brow and gave him a pointed look.
“Including me.” His trousers, as he took in his young wife, had become incredibly unforgiving. “Especially me.” Elizabeth looked like sin in the gown, though he’d prefer her out of it. He had the urge to simply fall to her knees in front of her, worship her and beg for forgiveness. “I prefer you in colors. Much better than that terrible gray sack you wore when I first spotted you.”
“It was a novice’s habit, not a sack.”
“You looked like an unfashionable pigeon.”
Her lips twitched, trying not to smile. She gazed at him from beneath sooty lashes, pacing before him intentionally, Spence thought, enticing him with her scent. The sound of her skirts rustling sent bolts of longing across his body, lighting every inch of his skin. His heart started to beat harder.
Christ, I’ve missed her. Maybe he should just throw her over his shoulder before she could argue.
“You sent me away. Basically told me to leave. The second such time you’ve done so.”
He cursed his own stupidity. “A mistake on my part. Again. I’ve come to fetch you,” he countered.
“I know what Elysium is.” Anger lit her words. “I’m not sure I’ll go anywhere with you if you prefer the company found in such a place. I thought I made myself abundantly clear concerning my tolerance for such things, Spencer.”
He was intoxicated by the way her skirts floated about her as she moved toward him. He’d nearly murdered Ogden where he stood, which he was certain Elizabeth wouldn’t have approved of, even though the sneaky bastard deserved it. Spence dragged his eyes from her luscious form. Was she accusing him of straying? Oh, yes. He was an ass for allowing her to believe such a thing. He’d been drunk. Stupid. Wanting to hurt her.
“I only prefer the scotch and dice games at Elysium. Nothing else.” His eyes fell to her lips. “No one else. Ever, Elizabeth. Not since you. I was a shit to allow you to believe such a thing. I’m a bit of an ass at times.”
That seemed to mollify her. At least the angry look left her eyes.
“I’ve noticed. But, as you can see, I’m in no need of fetching. Nor in need of rescue, though I quite enjoyed your athletic display.” She motioned to the balustrade he’d swung over to get to her.
Elizabeth wasn’t going to make this easy, but Spence was so overjoyed she hadn’t slapped him and run back inside, he would gladly pay the price. “Have you danced?” He tried to keep his voice even and instead his words only conjured up visions of her being fondled on the ballroom floor by someone other than himself. Maybe he could take her into the garden. He had half a mind to seduce her on a bench. Delicious, sassy little thing.
“If you must know, I haven’t danced. I don’t know how. Such a thing isn’t taught at St. Albans.”
“Odd. Nuns are taught to load a pistol, but not to dance?”
She shot him a look of irritation, but he could see the smile tugging at her lips. “It’s very embarrassing. I’m rapidly running out of excuses. A broken heel. A twisted ankle. My slipper ribbon having come undone.”
Spence’s heart thumped hard in response. “I can show you, my little nun,” he heard himself say. “How to dance. I’m quite good at it.” He held up his hands just as the notes of the waltz being played inside filtered out to the terrace.
Please come to me, Elizabeth.
She hesitated only a moment before her small hand slid into his, warm and trusting.
Maybe he could dance her into the gardens. She might object to being lifted over the wall, though. It was a very pretty gown she wore.
“What must I do?” The seductive notes caressed
his skin. “You’ll have to instruct me.”
Spence was suddenly very sure they weren’t discussing dancing. The granite hard length of his cock screamed at him in frustration. “Follow my steps. The waltz is dreadfully simple. Move with me and I’ll signal you.” He squeezed her fingers.
She squeezed back. “I’ll follow where you lead.”
Warmth rushed up over the area of his heart. He was positive they weren’t talking about a fucking waltz. Gently, he swung Elizabeth around the terrace in time to the music, loving the way her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkled in pleasure. She was humming, stepping on his feet as her skirts wound about his legs.
Spence stared at the curve of her shoulder. He couldn’t stop himself from pressing a kiss to the smooth, pale flesh and felt her shiver in response.
“It was a lot to take in, your past. I only needed a moment, Spencer.”
He pressed a kiss to her temple at the use of his given name.
Elizabeth’s slippered foot landed squarely on his toes. “Sorry.” She gave him an apologetic look. “Do stop scowling at me. I’ve only just learned to dance.”
And I’ve only recently discovered how to love. Be patient with me.
“If I’d wanted my foot broken, I would have gone to the stables and allowed the horses to stomp on me,” he shot back. He inhaled her scent, loving the way her body moved with his.
She deliberately stepped on his foot again. “You are my safe place.” The touch of her hand slid down his shoulder.
“And you are mine,” he said, surprising her with the truth.
“I don’t wish to be apart from you again, Kelso. It’s much too painful. If you think you might, at some point, toss me out again—”
“I didn’t toss you out, little nun. You left.”
“You made me leave.”
“Tell me again how we cannot be parted.” His grip on her tightened. “That you will not leave the poor, miserable excuse for a man I am. Please.”
Her eyes were so blue, like the sky on a cloudless day. “Never again,” she whispered. “I will hold you to my heart all the days of my life.”
Still Wicked Page 26