by Julia Donner
Accepting an offer of marriage from an aristocrat also meant she’d be thrown into London society, an arena as treacherous as ancient Rome’s coliseum. She’d never sought entry into that very select social strata and had no interest in people she privately designated as arrogant, artificial, and self-indulgent ninnies—a harsh opinion she scrupulously kept to herself.
It wasn’t that she disliked entertaining or socializing. She actually enjoyed it and knew her gatherings enjoyed subtle acclaim. She’d never made a push to include members of the ton, although some of her guests happened to be respected members.
With his title and family one of the oldest in Kent, Major Lord Asterly was definitely a ton member. There could be no doubt of that, but she couldn’t categorize him in any other way. He had a slick talent for blending into any group. His easy manners were pleasing and made him sought after by London hostesses seeking to balance their guest lists.
Thinking realistically, she comforted herself with the knowledge that public interest in her would wane. The novelty of meeting the new Lady Asterly would fade. After the sheen of her newness on the scene dulled, they’d sneer and make deriding comments about her origins. But by then, she’d be safely away from their sphere, perhaps busying herself in Kent.
She doubted this latest uprising of Bonaparte’s would last long. He wasn’t well and would move quickly. Her contacts had mentioned the Corsican still had the support of his soldiers, but Wellington would show no mercy this time. His will was relentless and irrevocable, reminding her of Peregrine’s kiss.
Nothing like Devon’s.
An unfamiliar restlessness prowled through her body. She couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss no matter how she tried. Her imagination progressed to heated thoughts that made her mentally writhe away from the explicit images. A wave of unease slid through her when a small, taunting voice from deep within made her admit she craved the thrill of the baron’s touch, his vibrant presence.
Crimm interrupted a blossoming fantasy . “It appears you’re to be married, Mrs. Shelton.”
Recovering from a flinch of surprise, she muttered, “Yes, it appears so.”
“You will be a baroness.”
The mere thought of what she faced intimidated. Society held no place for someone with her direct descent from trade. Dejected by the reminder of the battle she faced, she huffed a sigh. While she helped Asterly, she had to sacrifice herself on the alter of town gossip to keep attention away from what Asterly was actually doing.
Crimm stood waiting for directions, haloed in an aura of smug satisfaction, replete with the juicy information that his employer would soon be elevated to the aristocracy. She knew the futility of pointing out to Crimm that he shouldn’t be so obvious about eavesdropping but she trusted him more than any other.
She felt her eyes narrow with a new thought. That annoying habit of Crimm’s might be put to better use. She was about to become an accomplice to a spy.
Downstairs, Peregrine felt rushed to leave the house before Elizabeth could change her mind. While waiting at the curb for the carriage to come around from the mews, he allowed the relaxation of blessed relief to flow through him.
He’d done it! He never thought he could get her to marry him, much less so soon. It had taken some quick talking and steady acting, but he’d done it. He’d had to keep her head spinning, woo her hard and fast—the perfect example of a twin-edged sword. It had been a near thing when he’d finally given in to the temptation to kiss her. He’d almost hauled her off the divan and into the connecting bedroom.
Unfortunately, Elizabeth wasn’t a lonely widow seeking a lover. He had to remember to contain desires long unfed, but it wasn’t easy around Elizabeth. It wasn’t her fault that she was so reserved and unintentionally tempting.
He stepped up into the carriage, wishing he hadn’t taken on this new assignment. The blasted war was far from over. He had a bad feeling about leaving Elizabeth with a task she detested. Even as much as she enjoyed challenges, soliciting acceptance from members of the ton wasn’t one she’d relish.
Peregrine tapped the head of his cane on the ceiling to let the coachman know he was seated. Next came the higher hurdle of introducing her to Harry. He knew of only one woman who wasn’t in love with his twin, his friend, Cass, who had always considered Harry silly even as she professed to love him in a brotherly fashion.
Peregrine had no illusions. Whenever compared with his twin, there could be no contest. Peregrine would lose. He had to pray and hope his Eliza wouldn’t succumb to what society called Harry’s fatal magnetism.
Chapter 13
When Crimm entered the breakfast parlor, Elizabeth paused from finishing a dish of coddled eggs. “Yes, Crimm?”
“May I get you another hot chocolate, ma’am?”
“You may tell me why you are hovering.”
“It grieves me to report that Sir William and Lady Shelton are in the ground floor drawing room.”
His reply stiffened every muscle in her body. She set down the spoon and pushed away the plate, her meal spoiled by this news. She took a moment to think and calm her nerves.
Crimm had placed the unwanted visitors in a room reserved for misdirected tradesmen and social pests. This was done to punish the Sheltons for the grossly uncivil act of making an unexpected call before eleven o’clock in the morning. Elizabeth habitually rose with the sun. The Sheltons knew it but wouldn’t have cared if it were otherwise.
Elizabeth refused to buckle. She pulled the plate back in place and continued with her meal at leisure, even called for fresh hot chocolate. Finished, she dabbed her mouth with a serviette and nodded for the footman to pull out her chair. Another footman waited to open the breakfast parlor door. Crimm guarded the passageway, ever on the alert.
How many times had she tried to soften her heart in the matter of Devon’s parents? Years of their cruelties wore down her resolve to like them. They invariably depleted her stores of patience and compassion. They were nothing like her darling Devon, in appearance or personality.
She hesitated before going through the open doorway, faced with the prospect of dealing with them again. Why were they here this time? London thrived on gossip and speculation. Perhaps they’d already heard something. The servant grapevine would have sent the news twining throughout town to be chewed over every breakfast table or cup of chocolate in bed. Her heart sank with the acceptance that there would be no avoiding this confrontation. Perhaps she could make this time the last time.
The instant she came through the door, Lady Shelton’s sly eyes pointedly searched Elizabeth’s hand for a token of the engagement. A sneer thinned Lady Shelton’s lips when she saw the wedding ring Elizabeth had never been able to remove, the inexpensive silver band had been all Devon could afford. Lady Shelton’s smug grin expressed her satisfaction that the rumors of an engagement to Asterly were just that—rumors.
Elizabeth didn’t take a seat. She remained standing close to the door, a suggestion ignored. The Sheltons had made use of the time waiting for her and planted themselves comfortably. They looked to have taken root on the couch with no plans to budge.
Elizabeth steeled her resolve. This visit was going to be more than unpleasant.
Barely moving her thinned lips, Lady Shelton snarled, “You’ve kept us waiting, Elizabeth. Very rude, I’m sure. We have come to satisfy ourselves regarding the veracity of a certain on-dit.”
Lady Shelton’s opening salvo succeeded in aggravating Elizabeth to the point of dissolving her last shred of tolerance. The polite, impersonal smile of welcome she’d managed when she entered the drawing room faded. After so many countless barbs and outright insults, she had thought herself prepared for this interview. Years of bottled anger overwhelmed the fear of the havoc these two could make of her life. Then a greater anxiety took its place as she recalled that Peregrine had asked her to have nothing to do with these people.
Elizabeth crossed to the unlit fireplace. The habit of emotionally protecting h
erself from the pain they inflicted made her movements stiff and uncoordinated but determination drove her to get the visitation over with and them out of the house.
“Lady Shelton, Sir William, since you have dispensed with any form of civility, I shall do likewise. What gave you the impression that I should wish to be of use to you by verifying odious supposition?”
Lady Shelton’s gaze narrowed to a threatening squint. “Because you are the subject, girl! It has come to our attention that you’re lax in keeping us, your only surviving family, informed of the most important events of your life.”
“Indeed?”
Lady Shelton’s steel-eyed glare proceeded to make a thorough study of what could be seen of Elizabeth’s waistline beneath the drape of the Clarence blue morning dress. Unable to detect any telltale changes, she clucked a frustrated noise. “Last evening, Sir William overheard several bets being made. Your name was involved. Wagers are being made as to how soon you will marry.”
“You are mistaken, Lady Shelton. A name similar to mine must have been mentioned.”
“My husband distinctly heard your name discussed, girl. Did you not, Sir William?”
Nervous and sweating, Sir William made a gargling sound of agreement, and Lady Shelton continued, “I insist on having the particulars of this rumor. Are you soon to be remarried?”
With enjoyment, Elizabeth said, “I am to marry Lord Asterly.”
Lady Shelton was momentarily boggled by this admission. She sent her husband—who was employing his usual tactic of mute innocence—an accusing look. Lady Shelton’s focus returned to Elizabeth. The suspicious glitter waned, melting into coy slyness.
“But, Elizabeth, why did you not tell us of this connection to Asterly? His brother is an arbiter, you must know, and Asterly is a great and close friend of our family, brother of the blade to my martyred Devon.” On the heels of Lady Shelton’s dubious solicitude came the all-important question, “If this engagement is indeed bona fide, will Asterly inherit all of my son’s fortune?”
Elizabeth quelled the urge to sneer. Not surprised by this blunt line of questioning, she felt sorely tempted to scream a hail of insulting recrimination. She held her boiling emotions in check, while Lady Shelton visibly savored every moment of Elizabeth’s discomfort. She dug her fingernails into her palms to contain the urge to release the emotions churning, begging to be freed.
A method must be found to evict the Sheltons’ polluting presence from her house and life. First, she must calm her temper to the point where she could speak rationally. Asterly would be calling soon, and she didn’t want him to think that she would disregard his wishes. It was a happy fact that she was in full agreement with him about the Sheltons, who had refused to acknowledge all the indications of their lack of welcome. No fire had been started, no refreshments offered, and no lackey appeared to take their outerwear. Such glaring lack of hospitality would have sent any other caller out the door in a huff, but Lady Shelton’s hide and resolve was as tough as over-baked leather.
Elizabeth gathered her wits, took a deep breath, and prepared herself to tell them that they would not be a part of the upcoming changes in her life. A sudden memory blocked the words. These horrible people hadn’t bothered themselves to tell her Devon had died. They deserved no explanation from her, no consideration, but perhaps they did deserve the release of years of resentment.
She yanked on the bell cord, unsure how one went about dislodging persons of no breeding, other than calling for a pair of stout footmen. The door immediately opened but Elizabeth raised a hand.
She focused on the couple on the couch.. “I must beg to correct you on several points. Your first misconception is that Devon inherited any portion of my father’s fortune. In this you are mistaken and misunderstand your supposed monetary connection to my finances. Please refer to the contracts. At the time of our marriage, my father allowed only for the transfer of my dowry and personal allowance.”
She continued to speak over Lady Shelton’s sputtering outrage. “When Sir William did not offer to settle anything on me, Father altered his will. Papa had been looking higher, much higher than a baronet’s second son and was not pleased with my final choice for a husband.”
Smiling a little at Lady Shelton’s gasp and Sir William’s startled choke at this direct insult, Elizabeth considered this the perfect opportunity to vent accumulated outrage.
“My inheritance, which you assumed would somehow spill over into your clutches, was not established until after Devon’s death. I am my father’s sole beneficiary, and you can be assured that he took every possible measure and legal guarantee that you would not be able to touch any of it.”
Frantic, Sir William leaned to his wife and whispered, “What do we tell our creditors?”
Lady Shelton cut off her husband’s words with a jerk of her head. Her hate-filled stare never wavered. “You should have a care for the enemies you make with your careless choice of words, girl.”
“As to the last point of misunderstanding, Lord Asterly has specifically requested—due to your treatment of me as your son’s widow—a wish that I cut all physical and social connection with you. His wishes, as my husband, must be strictly obeyed.”
Elizabeth looked at her butler, who had been lurking in the doorway to the vestibule. “Crimm, Lady Shelton and Sir William are leaving.”
Devoid of all expression, Crimm suggestively held the door open. A protracted and awkward silence ensued when the visitors refused to move from the couch.
Elizabeth maintained her aloof exterior but inside she quailed. She dreaded the scene to come, but it had to be done. Lady Shelton hadn’t gotten her way and now she meant to cause trouble.
Elizabeth felt shame for them and herself. How easily she had slipped to their level. She’d lied that her father disapproved of Devon. Her gullible father had been overjoyed, imagining that his daughter on Devon’s arm would provide a greased path into the ton. The military set adored Devon, but he’d only been allowed to approach the fringes of London society.
The sharp rap of the doorknocker broke the glaring match between herself and the Sheltons. Crimm refused to leave his place by the open door, through which, Elizabeth glimpsed a footman admitting Asterly. She almost wept from the combination of relief and nerves stretched to breaking point.
Chapter 14
Every instinct went on alert when Peregrine stepped through the door. He sensed the conflict’s tension. Curious as to the cause, he glanced through the door Crimm held open and stepped through the receiving room’s threshold.
A glance penetrated Elizabeth’s calm exterior to the turmoil underneath. He stepped back out into the foyer and quickly divested himself of coat, hat, gloves, and cane. He swiftly went to Elizabeth and wrapped his fingers around her cold hands clenched tightly at her waist.
“M’dear, how kind of you to be waiting for me here at the door, and how very odd you must suppose my demands on your attention are.”
Elizabeth looked up into his blue-green eyes and felt the world right itself. He kept his back to the Sheltons, as if they didn’t exist. A deft and gentle tug positioned her so that she stood in front of him, blocked from the Shelton’s view. She read his purpose in his eyes, clearly understanding his warning that he would take charge of this encounter. When she agreed with a tiny nod, he raised her hand to his lips instead of politely bowing over it. His gaze held a dangerous twinkle when he raised her other hand and gave a knuckle a playful nip.
Lady Shelton said, “Look you here, girl! Present us.”
The mischievous light in his eyes dimmed, replaced with a feral gleam that made her shiver. Asterly lowered her hands and turned. He glanced around the room and smoothly executed the cut sublime by ignoring the occupants. “Crimm, there is the oddest odor in this room. It distinctly reminds one of what Shakespeare described as “festering lilies smelling far worse than weeds.” I do believe it wants throwing out.”
Lady Shelton’s elbow jabbed into Sir William’s
ribs, forcing him to locate his spine. He stood up and loudly cleared his throat. “My lord, I believe we were introduced—”
Asterly coldly interrupted, “I have no idea where we might have met and only know that you’re taking yourselves off. Mrs. Shelton is not receiving today.”
Taking Elizabeth’s hand, he seated her, sat beside her, and began a commonplace conversation, carrying on a visit as if the sputtering, affronted Sheltons didn’t exist.
A burly footman appeared in the doorway and stepped around Crimm, making his intent clear when he stood next to the couch.
Lady Shelton finally accepted defeat and stood, much to her perspiring husband’s obvious relief. Sir William made a dash for the door, but his wife paused to make her frustration known with a strangled noise before quitting the field.
Crimm firmly closed the door after them. His dulcet tone hinted smugness, when he asked, “Would you like a tray brought in, ma’am?”
She waved a limp hand in reply, and Asterly said, “Sherry for Mrs. Shelton, please. I’ll have wine.”
Relieved to have the ordeal over with, Elizabeth pressed a trembling hand to her brow. A murmured instruction from Crimm brought a footman inside to light the fire. Crimm directed the footman out and accepted a tray from another lackey coming through the door. He quietly arranged the tray on the table Asterly indicated and left them alone.
Asterly poured sherry, then claret. “I remain perplexed as to how our charming Devon could have been the issue of that repellant pair. They must have stumbled across him hidden under a cabbage leaf.”
Her emotional balance somewhat restored, Elizabeth dropped her hand from her brow to her lap. “Being the recipient of his kind heart, I would say it more likely that he was found under a rose bush.” She accepted the sherry. “Thank you. I shall never forget him in his regimentals, standing on the dock, waving good-bye. He tried so strenuously to hide his worry for me.”