Elise

by Jackie Ivie

  The Countess Sophie had invited herself into Elise’s carriage for the ride. Elise listened to the other’s nonstop chatter with half an ear. She already knew Roald had an invitation. He was probably going to be there, and that worried her. Then Sophie told her about the Duke of MacGowan. He had been invited, too. That was even more worrisome.

  The repository of Sophie’s information, her young viscount, had allowed her to buy a beautiful, costly, emerald necklace. She held it closely in her reticule, bringing it out every so often to show Elise. Elise gave the proper response of envy, although her heart wasn’t in it. Her mind was elsewhere, and she knew the price Sophie had paid.

  Lord Barrigan was known for his excellent entertainment. His estate was bordered by forest at three sides. His wardens kept them filled with game. Ostensibly, this was a weekend party to hunt, fish, and escape the confines of society life. Actually, Elise knew it was simply an excuse for Barrigan to sport with his mistress amid his friends, while his wife was still stabled at London.

  Elise had been to these affairs before. All the ladies and gentlemen on his guest list had. They’d been chosen carefully. The liaisons between them were whispered about but not common knowledge. Since divorce was unheard of, this was the next best thing, she supposed. Her lips twisted. Such behavior was yet another argument against the state of wedded bliss.

  She knew she’d be given a bedroom adjoining Roald’s. All the couples would have the same arrangement. Elise had always managed to handle Roald before. This time, however, she wasn’t sure. She was sure only of one thing. It wasn’t going to be very relaxing or recuperative.

  “Well…good day, Lady Sophie, and I see you’ve brought that spark, the Dowager Duchess of Wynd, with you. I’m so pleased you both could visit my humble estate. Truly, I am. You brighten any gathering.”

  Barrigan’s loud, booming voice met them at the landing. Elise looked it over critically. The architect had used a monstrous amount of marble and imported teakwood in the design of Barrigan’s hunting lodge. It was as far from humble as could be described. Of course, Barrigan already knew it. That was the reason he’d spoken as he had.

  Elise curtsied to hide the contempt. “My lord, your estate is most magnificent, as always. I’m thankful you thought to include me in your little entertainment this weekend.”

  Sophie echoed much the same at Elise’s side.

  “My thanks for your words, Lady Elise, but where have you eschewed Sir Roald? I thought him permanently attached at your side.”

  He winked at her. She smiled slightly and humorlessly.

  “Sir Roald has other means of transportation at his disposal, my lord. I doubt he’d wish his name permanently attached to mine, anyhow, wherewithal the rumors.”

  “Have you had a falling off with Sir Roald?”

  “Something of that nature,” Sophie replied.

  “Nothing of the sort!” Elise lightly touched Sophie on the arm with the edge of her lace pelisse. “I have only the highest regard for Sir Roald. And let’s not forget his words. He does pen the most exquisite poetry, doesn’t he?”

  “I never read that sort of drivel,” Barrigan replied.

  “Spoken like a true man, my lord.”

  “He can be a devil at cards, though. I hope he comes with full pockets this time.”

  “Don’t look to me,” Elise replied. “I never bankroll my lovers. That sort of thing I leave to the moneylenders, although they’ll not get as much for their coin, I’m certain.”

  Sophie gasped, while Barrigan choked on his amusement. “It’s a good thing I’ve placed you beside Sir Roald, then. You had me worried. You won’t find fault with my arranging?”

  “Pray, don’t let Lady Elise snow you, my lord. She’ll have you thinking she admires the new Duke of MacGowan next.”

  “I’ll do nothing of the sort. For shame, Sophie. The next thing you know, His Grace’s name will be even more firmly linked with mine. The poor man may never recover.” Elise laughed lightly, and the others followed suit. “Although I will admit a penchant for attractive men who are lampooned with me. It helps share the fame. Where have you placed him, anyway? Has the duke a, shall we say, a companion with him?”

  “Not to my knowledge. He arrived alone. I’ll place him beside you for sup. That should provide enough entertainment for all of us. Come, ladies, my head housekeeper, Barton, will show you to your rooms. Until this evening, then.”

  Elise had sent Daisy on ahead, so she wasn’t surprised to find her belongings already unpacked and her bed covered in her own linens. She dismissed the Barton woman after thanking her for the assistance.

  The woman’s stiff back answered Elise. She quickly stifled any emotion. All the staff at these gatherings seemed the same. They were snobbish and unfriendly, and they appeared to look down on the gentry they served. She ignored it.

  Daisy helped Elise disrobe and don a fresh sleep gown, so she might lay down to rest before supper. It was probably useless. She now had the duke at one elbow and Sir Roald at the other. She was in luck that she’d wanted it restful and relaxing. She couldn’t imagine what would have transpired had she wished for an exciting, eventful evening.

  With her thoughts racing as they were and nothing decided, she was amazed that she actually slept.

  ~ ~ ~

  When she awoke, late afternoon sunlight was warming the chamber. Daisy had been quietly efficient, as always. Elise’s new maroon taffeta gown was pressed and hanging on the armoire door. A scented, warmed hipbath welcomed her from beside the fireplace.

  “Daisy, you are a wonder. Whatever would I do without you?”

  The maid grinned and bobbed her head. “Get yourself in even more trouble. What else?”

  “What trouble am I in now?”

  Daisy clucked her tongue. “More than your usual, to be sure. And don’t act all big-eyed and innocent with me. I was there. I got to bear the brunt of it when you left that fellow standing on the steps the other eve. Don’t cow-tow to me. Here, hand me the nightie and sink beneath these bubbles. I’ve an ice goddess to create, you know.”

  “And which fellow might we be referring to?” Elise asked, as she shed the gown and let the afternoon sunlight touch her nakedness. The mirror reflected everything. Elise posed and turned, looking for any imperfections. She was slender, it was true, but she definitely had meat to her, and in all the right places, too. The man wasn’t just a barbarian, he was a blind one.

  “You’re going to have to tell him. The longer you wait, the harder it’ll get. Mark my words.”

  “I don’t need a conscience at this late date,” Elise replied.

  “True enough. Go on. Get in. The bubbles? Wait! The hair.”

  Elise waited while her tresses were pinned atop her head before sinking into luxury; she leaned forward so the maid could wash her back with a large soft cloth, soaped by bath salts scented with lavender. Everything that touched the dowager duchess was the softest, most expensive item available. She sighed. Then Daisy had to go and ruin it.

  “Now, don’t go take that tone with me,” Daisy said. “I’ve not finished with you, yet.”

  “What have I done now?”

  “Deserved a spanking, but I’ll forego it for another lecture.”

  “For what?” Elise asked.

  ‘That man. Leading him on. Leaving him standing on your doorstep the other eve, when he was dressed in a pure symphony of masculine taste. You should have seen him.”

  “I did,” Elise remarked.

  ‘Then you must have known how much trouble he went through to look like that. And how do you repay it? You leave him standing.”

  “He’s a big, bullheaded, boorish brute bred in the barbaric boundaries of a backwater country.”

  ‘There’s an awful lot of B words in there.” The cloth slapped against her neck.

  “Well, he is,” Elise said.

  “And all of that has nothing to do with what you owe him.”

  “I don’t owe him the time it woul
d take to embarrass him. On second thought, that much I do. I’ve yet to pay him back for the other evening. He was horrid to me. ‘Past paramours?’ he asks, before passing that cartoon all over the room. I’ll not live that one down easily.”

  “You jilted him. It’s you owing him, I would say.”

  “I don’t do what a man orders me to do. Never again, anyway.”

  Daisy sighed. “Oh, very well. You still owe him the truth. He’s got to know of the existence of the babe. It’s his nephew, too.”

  “Good Lord.” Elise sat upright. “We’re related that closely?”

  “Like you don’t know each and every bit of it. Your sister, God rest her soul, wouldn’t want that baby not knowing his own heritage.”

  “My sister had an illegitimate child, Daisy. I hardly think God had any part of that.”

  “It wasn’t her fault. She was in love. He lied to her. It was his fault. All his. Every bit of it. His.”

  “So . . . you’re saying it was a man’s fault?” Elise asked innocently.

  ‘That’s what I’ve said and keep saying. It was completely and totally that Evan MacGowan’s fault. That sweet Evangeline went to him pure and innocent, and he took it from her. He used her. Poor girl.”

  “Yes, poor girl. Poor Evangeline Sherbourne. Poor country girl. She gives herself to a big, barbarian, Scottish brute—one without a hint of a conscience, I should insert here—and how does he repay such a gift? He leaves her to face the ruin all by herself. And now you’re lecturing me on how I treat one of them?”

  “You’re turning my words on me.”

  “And you’re making it too easy.”

  “He’s half Scots, you know,” Daisy said.

  “Who?”

  “The babe. Your nephew. Rory. The light of your existence, or so you say every time you hold him.”

  Elise groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

  “So when are you going to tell the duke and get this weight off your shoulders?”

  “What weight?” Elise asked uneasily.

  “The one you’re always mumbling to yourself about when you think no one’s listening.”

  “Oh,” Elise replied, “that weight.”

  “It’ll be easy. Just go up to him and say, ‘Pardon me, Your Grace, but could I have a word with you? In private?’ If you’d use your charms, I bet you’d have that fellow around your finger. You might even get him around your ring finger, unlike your older sister. God rest her soul.”

  Elise’s eyes went wide. “Never. Ever. Never.” She said each word and waited until the hint of sound evaporated before saying the next. It still felt awful. “Besides, you’re forgetting, Evangeline wasn’t good enough for one of them. What makes you think I would be?”

  “Wishful thinking. And you should leave a bit of room for doubt, you know. You’re young. You’re beautiful. You’re healthy. You’re rich.”

  “I’m heartless,” Elise inserted.

  “Only on the outside, love. Here, step out. You’ll make wrinkles out of your skin if we don’t get some creams rubbed into it before it dries. On the bed, facedown.”

  Elise lay on the large, fluffed out blanket of towels Daisy had warmed for the purpose. The maid started at her shoulders with yet another lavender-scented potion.

  “There’s something else you probably should know,” Elise said, when Daisy finished massaging her lower legs and ankles. “I have tried to talk to him. He doesn’t give me any time. If I open my mouth, he jumps right down my throat with some order or like insult, and I can’t get in a breath, let alone a word.”

  “You? Tongue-tied? I’ll never be able to show my face below stairs again. Here, I’ve brought your striped stockings. Sit. Leg?”

  Elise lifted a leg and helped pull the peppermint-candy-striped stockings into place on her upper thighs. She grimaced. “Why did I order such a loud design, anyway?” she asked.

  “You wished a bit of attention drawn to your ankles should someone brush against your skirts. That’s the same reason all your tastes are loud—attention. You thrive on it. Which does make it odd that you’d not pursue this Scottish duke fellow’s company more.”

  “What are we talking of now?”

  “Stand. Arms up.” Daisy helped Elise pull a skintight, silken chemise over herself; then she strapped on a corset. “I saw the cartoons. Everybody did. They didn’t do you justice; but then again, they never do. Deep breath.”

  Elise sucked in her stomach and winced as the laces were pulled tight. “They were scandalous, Daisy,” she managed to falter.

  “Well! There’s nothing like a bit of scandal to get you even more attention, and take a bit of it away from that Lady Sophie Ipswich. Now there’s a woman who should be minding her manners and attending to her own home, not gallivanting about with boys a decade younger than she is. Like I’ve always said. Here, crinoline time. Stand straight. Taller. We’d best wear the heels again. That man probably dwarfs you.”

  “Probably?” Elise responded, watching the transformation taking place in the mirror. She didn’t argue the points Daisy was making. It was a waste of breath. Besides, she couldn’t breathe deeply enough to argue them.

  “So do I have your promise?” Daisy asked, as she lifted the maroon dress down from the armoire door.

  “What would I have promised now?”

  “That you’ll speak to His Grace. Tonight.”

  Elise groaned.

  “You’ll find a way to tell him. Tonight. Promise.”

  “He doesn’t listen to anything I say, though. He treats me like a strumpet who lacks morals and a mind.”

  “You’ve got him where you want him, then. Good girl.”

  “What?” Elise asked.

  “He’ll not consider you marriage material, either. It works on just about every gent, except that poet-snake fellow. He’d take you with no questions asked. Of him, either, I might add.”

  “Poet-snake fellow?” Elise repeated.

  “Sorry. Personal opinion. I have them. I do try to keep them to myself, though; otherwise, I’d find myself without any employ. Should you find my services lacking, of course.”

  “Never.” Elise smiled. ‘There’s not another lady of the peerage deserving of such service. But I think you denigrate Roald without reason. You forget, I enjoy his company.”

  “Not as much as he enjoys your gold.”

  “He’s got a wicked sense of humor, Daisy. You do have to admit that. Come along, admit it.”

  “Wicked? Yes, that he is. Here, try this.” The maid was holding out a maroon vinaigrette, a small bag for holding smelling salts and other ladylike necessities.

  “Am I planning on swooning now?” Elise asked, raising her eyebrows. “What good will that do?”

  “It’s the coward’s way. Try it. It might work.”

  “Daisy, I’m beginning to wonder at your sanity, and I’ve never been cowardly. I’m not about to start. The notorious Ice Goddess fainting? I’ll never live it down.”

  Daisy clucked her tongue. “I put lavender-scented note cards in there. Put the words on one. Press it into his hand. They’ll think it a love note. Take it. You might need a lifeline.”

  An hour later, Elise was pronounced ready and allowed to leave the chamber. Daisy had added more height by wrapping Elise’s hair all about her head before placing a small ruby tiara in it. More of the same stones were set in a necklace that molded along the tops of her breasts, drawing the eye there. Looking there, no man could possibly think she needed meat to any part of her frame. The vinaigrette dangled from her left wrist with a note already written out

  Elise knew no part of her appearance could be faulted. It was a good thing. She needed it. She entered Barrigan’s drawing room and Sir Roald was instantly at her side. Elise looked him over critically and could find nothing amiss, or snakelike. He was immaculately groomed, in stovepipe trousers, a high, starched cravat, and he had a small, linked chain draped to the monocle in his breast pocket.

  “My lady, you e
clipse the stars.”

  Elise tipped her head and glanced up at him. “I haven’t forgiven you yet, Roald. Pray don’t force it.”

  “I’m but a mere man, and such a lowly creature can never take note in the radiance cast from your own beauty.”

  Elise winced. “Pray don’t bore me with such prose tonight.”

  “When should a man speak such things, then?”

  “When they’re requested, of course. Why look, there’s Lady Beth. She does look spectacular, doesn’t she?”

  “You expect me to take note of other women when I’ve the most ethereal creature in the country at my elbow?” he asked.

  “I’m warning you, Roald.”

  He sighed in an exaggerated fashion, then turned to look at their host’s mistress. Lady Beth was graced with a complexion as pale as ivory, a font of light, auburn hair, and black eyelashes. That was a combination nature would never have gifted her with. Elise knew Lady Beth had liberally rubbed her lashes with watered-down soot to get such an effect. Elise knew because she wasn’t above such artifice herself.

  Lady Beth was wearing a peach gown and a resplendent, three-strand pearl necklace that must have set Barrigan back a few pounds. Elise wondered what Lady Beth’s husband would think of his wife’s new acquisition. Then she wondered, for the thousandth time, why she cared about such things.

  “Bloody fortune on her, isn’t it?”

  Roald’s venomous whisper startled her. “Don’t begrudge it, Roald. Harry seems happy enough.”

  “Some women expect payment for services rendered. I’m in luck with you, am I not?”

  Elise sucked in the gasp. “You dare much with such words.”

  He shrugged, and the tightness of his coat barely allowed the movement. Elise looked away. He was rapidly losing his attractiveness to her, if he’d ever had any.

  “I’ve not much to lose, have I?” he asked.

  “Sir Roald ... Easton, is na’ it?”

  Colin MacGowan loomed right beside them and introduced himself. Elise guessed he’d been eavesdropping on their whispered conversation. She felt, rather than saw, Roald stiffen.