Elise

by Jackie Ivie

  “Beside which,” he continued, as if everything he was saying was normal and insipid and bland. “It is a definite feather in my cap that I have managed to wed the most notorious woman in London. I quite feel I’ve risen in the world. You should read the congratulatory notes I’ve received already from Barrigan and his friends.”

  She made a choking noise. She couldn’t help it.

  The innkeeper knocked and Colin looked to the door. Elise dabbed at the corner first of one eye, and then the other. She tipped her head to allow the moisture to soak into her handkerchief. She was glad she hadn’t put a bit of soot near her lashes.

  A stout woman followed on the innkeeper’s heel. Elise knew it was the cook without asking. She turned her face away from them and surreptitiously slid her handkerchief back into her reticule.

  “You found your meal satisfactory, Your Grace?” The man seemed to have lost some of his awe at having such illustrious customers. His words and tone were confrontational and clipped.

  Colin pushed back from the table. “My thanks. The meal was that and more. Your Sarah is quite a cook, just as you said. I’m afraid Her Grace has lost her appetite, though. The swaying of the coach, you understand. Would you be so kind as to prepare a hamper? My man will see to the arrangements.”

  The couple at the door groveled at Colin’s changed personality. Elise sat, frozen in place, and watched.

  “Have you nae cloak, my dear?” His voice was as warm as a love-struck husband’s should be. She knew it for the act that it was.

  Elise tried to face him. She could only hope that he wouldn’t notice that she wasn’t meeting his eyes. “I left it in the carriage,” she answered, in a whisper.

  “I see that I’ll have to look after you better.”

  He had his head lowered toward hers and was whispering, too, as he helped her to rise. She wondered why he bothered posturing for her. The couple at the door couldn’t overhear what he was saying.

  She put her hand through the crook of his arm, settling her fingers on rock-hard flesh, and let him escort her to the carriage. It shouldn’t have been difficult. She simply had to put one foot in front of the other and hold up her skirts with her free hand.

  Elise was shaking when they got to the coach door. Colin stopped, turned to look down at her, and waited. At this point, she was supposed to let go of her escort, take hold of the carriage handle, and step up. It wasn’t supposed to be difficult.

  What was wrong with her?

  Colin had said a lot, most of it untrue. He’d been right about one thing, though. The imperious Dowager Duchess of Wynd never, ever caused a scene. It was Elise’s unspoken code of honor. Yet here she was, holding up the entire retinue, because the man she’d proclaimed to the world as her husband didn’t want her at all. She was beginning to fear that she had a heart, after all.

  “I’ve decided to ride inside now, Mick.”

  “Very good, Your Grace.”

  She heard the exchange between Colin and his man, but it didn’t sink in what Colin was about until he put his hand atop hers. She guessed he was physically removing the contact.

  “Elise?”

  She touched her glance on his and quickly looked away. He was too astute when it came to guessing what she was feeling. He’d probably recognize her expression for what it was. Her dreams were dying, and there was no one she could tell.

  She’d never get the chance now to correct anything.

  “You doona’ have to fear me ...”

  He said more words in a strange language in her ear. Then he lifted her and entered the carriage with her in his arms. Elise could have done without the intimacy. She kept her eyes shut tightly the entire time and struggled with her instincts. How she longed to simply turn her head into his shoulder and hold on to the experience! She hadn’t had this much physical contact with anyone since her childhood. She was afraid he’d guess that, too.

  “Do you want me to hold you?”

  The gentleness of his voice existed only in her dreams. She shook her head and moved off his lap, and to the other bench, before she could change her mind. It was still just as hard and lumpy as she remembered.

  Chapter 11

  Colin had made arrangements to stay with Lady Sophie’s husband their first night. It was bound to be uncomfortable. Elise could have warned him how straitened the circumstances were at Ipswich Manor, if he’d asked.

  In the vague light cast from the ducal carriage lanterns, the cobbles looked overgrown and dangerous for the horses. If, as Colin had already alluded, his new duchess was the type to be ill at carriage swaying, she’d have been prostrate by the time they arrived.

  It made as good an excuse as any other, she decided, eyeing the untouched hamper of food. She wasn’t hungry; besides, she’d been pretending to sleep.

  The family of Ipswich had resided in Barton’s Abbey ever since their own manor had burnt shortly after Sophie’s marriage. It was apparent that the funds to rebuild weren’t available.

  The lights were on, however, and the entryway was inviting. Elise followed Colin down from the carriage. She didn’t need him to stand so close to her as she did so, but it was her fault. Everything was her fault, but that didn’t make it better.

  “Your Grace, and Elise, my very dear Elise! So wonderful to have you stay. Welcome! Welcome!”

  Sophie’s husband was round and jovial. He held his arms wide in welcome. She smiled in return and held out her hand.

  “Howard, you are doing well? How are the boys?”

  “Doing fine, the lads are. Fine.” He held her hand for a moment.

  One of Colin’s servants took his coat, while Elise looked about for a housekeeper.

  “Have you seen Lady Sophie lately? She’s still well? Come in, come in. Dinner is almost ready. We’ve been sending out invitations all day, and quite a gathering it’s turning out to be. My thanks for sending such an amount of food, Your Grace. I feel certain you wouldn’t begrudge a bit for the festivities. You couldn’t possibly eat all of it, even if we had the time to prepare it all. There will be a vast amount to send on, I’m afraid.”

  Colin turned and helped Elise with her pelisse. He handed it to one of his footmen, winked at Elise, and then turned to Howard.

  “I would na’ hear of it, my lord. What arrived will only spoil if I tried to keep it further. I’ll hear no more about it. Is there a chamber for Her Grace to freshen up in? Then you and I can talk about horses.”

  If Colin had wanted Howard’s complete attention, he couldn’t have said anything more perfect, Elise thought wryly as she followed Colin’s servant up the stairs. She knew how boring Sophie found her own husband’s continual talk of horses. When Elise had first met her, Sophie had made it more than plain.

  Hers was an arranged marriage, just as Elise’s had been. After Sophie had gallantly given her husband not one but two male heirs, she had then left, to enjoy herself in London. Elise wasn’t in any position to sit in judgment of anything Sophie took into her head to do. Elise had met Howard twice before this. Both times she had found him jovial and consumed by talk of horses. Of that, Sophie hadn’t exaggerated.

  The chamber Elise was shown into was adequately sized but intimately bare. Great beams crossed the ceiling. Her presence, together with the fire, made the room effectively warm. She looked about and frowned. There was a dressing table with a stool, a bureau, a cheval mirror, and a very large bed; but that was all.

  She crossed to the mirror and began unwinding her hair, pulling flowers from it as she went. She was doing her best to ignore Colin’s trunk on the floor beside her two. A knock on the door brought her a maid who was almost too old to walk unassisted. Elise helped the woman lay out her evening wear. She was going to be overdressed, but that couldn’t be helped. She had only the contents of her trunks from Barrigan’s house at her disposal.

  Perhaps His Grace, the Duke of MacGowan, shouldn’t travel with such haste, she thought snidely.

  She was careful to choose the plaines
t gown, but it looked ornate lying atop the bedstead. Elise had this one fashioned of gold-tone brocade, with black satin over-sleeves and tonal golden embroidery about the waist. It also required six layers of petticoats. Elise helped the maid pull the garments from the trunk and stifled her cry of dismay at how crushed they all were.

  “I’ll just see these ironed, Your Grace, while you bathe.”

  The woman held open the door for a tub. Elise recognized the MacGowan livery on the men bringing her heated water. That was interesting. It appeared the Duke of MacGowan was thoughtful and organized. She supposed she had his lists to thank for that.

  Elise had never been one for lists. She wanted spontaneity and instant gratification in her world. Lists required too much thinking, which she avoided; besides, she told herself, looking about, everything she could possibly need or want always seemed to materialize without her request. She’d had Daisy for that.

  She missed Daisy’s efficiency when she was left to contend with shedding the traveling ensemble by herself. It would help if the hooks weren’t up the back, she told herself more than once as she wrestled with them.

  She didn’t hear the door opening, for she had the tight-fitting jacket wrapped about her neck and ears. She had no trouble hearing the laughter, however. She pulled the material back down and whirled to face him.

  “Is there something I can do for you, Your Grace?” Elise tried to sound supercilious, but it came out breathless and agitated to her own ears. She lifted her chin to glare at him. It worked only because he was taking up the space across the room from her.

  “Would you be needing the services of a lady’s maid?” He folded his arms across his chest, raised his eyebrows, and waited.

  “Don’t be obtuse. It’s rather obvious, isn’t it? You didn’t happen to employ me one, did you?”

  “Turn around.”

  “No.”

  He took the five steps across the room, put his hands on her shoulders, and turned her around. Elise clenched her teeth shut as he deftly undid the last hooks. Her eyes widened as he tossed her jacket to the bed and began pulling on the laces of her corset.

  “You can stop there, Colin! I never said that I—”

  “Who would you like to undo your underthings, my dear? If my touch is so horrid, perhaps you know of someone else? I suppose I could send up Ipswich. He would na’ take it as a personal affront if I asked it of him. He’d probably be delighted, and I might na’ even challenge him.”

  Elise was gasping, and it wasn’t his words that were causing it. He’d stopped pulling laces but kept his hands where they were. The near touch of him was stealing her thoughts and stilling her tongue.

  “Well?”

  “Finish . . . quickly, then.”

  “I’ll try, but I seem to be all thumbs tonight.”

  He was wrong about that, for she felt certain more than a thumb had brushed against her spine. The remembered warmth was spreading, too. Elise stiffened her legs and held her knees together.

  “Where is it that your own maid went to? She did na’ desire a trip to the Highlands, either?”

  “She’ll be meeting... up with us...at Crewe.” Elise would have given anything to take back the stammering of her voice. She couldn’t seem to catch her breath, though, and Colin’s finger traced her backbone while she was trying to.

  “Crewe?”

  The word was breathed against the nape of her neck. Elise jumped.

  She’d stopped the stupid stuttering that was her voice. It was next to impossible to think through what she was supposed to be replying to. He touched her ear, and she could have sworn it was with his lips. Her thighs were turning to water. Elise willed the sensation to cease, but her body wasn’t listening.

  She took a deep breath and started speaking. “I thought surely you would travel by train. I mean, the roads north aren’t passable much of the year, and the MacGowans do own a train. You do, don’t you? I... well, I felt Crewe would be the most convenient stop for such. That is where the rail line goes into Scotland, isn’t it?”

  He didn’t say anything for so long she nearly tipped her head to see why. His fingers had stalled on the corset, too. She should have kept silent, she told herself.

  “You surprise me, Elise.”

  When Colin finally answered, his voice was so soft she could have reached out and touched it. Surely he’d spot her shivers now. This is monstrous, she told herself.

  He cleared his throat, and then he was speaking in his normal tone again. “Of course, the MacGowan train stands ready for us at Crewe. I dinna’ think you interested enough to advise you of it. I thought you dinna’ think of me at all.”

  “It isn’t what you—” she began, but he interrupted her.

  “What is this contraption made of? I’m having a bit of trouble with the bottom. You’re knotted. What idiot would do such a thing?”

  He didn’t finish what he was saying, but he did pull back from her. Elise put a hand out to steady herself on one of the bed’s posts. This was worse than embarrassing. She was probably flushed a rosy pink, too. She supposed if she was facing the mirror she’d know for certain. Her eyes widened.

  Perish the thought! Having to watch him as he unclothed her would be more than she had experience to deal with.

  “I’ll have to cut it.”

  He was fishing for a knife, no doubt. The longer he stayed away from her, the easier it was to breathe. Elise held the front of her corset to her with her free hand and tried to ignore what that might mean.

  “It probably will na’ be wearable now. My regrets. You’ll have to make do without one for a spell.”

  He cut the last stay away as he spoke. If she hadn’t been holding the whalebone-stiffened piece to her, it would have sprung off. Colin’s voice had lost its carefree tone, too. He sounded as short-tempered and curt as he had to the innkeeper. All of which was her fault, she supposed. She was the one who had tied it in knots this morning.

  “I... have more with me.”

  “Whatever for? You’re slender as a thistle already.”

  “Propriety?” she answered, making it a question.

  His snort was her answer, and she did turn her head at that. Colin wasn’t even near her, nor was he looking her way. He was looking at his own reflection in the mirror, although he had to bend at the knees to do so. He was also unwinding the stock from about his neck.

  Elise’s heart sank. It was a very good thing she hadn’t eaten luncheon. It made it easier to quell her stomach’s rebellion. “Colin, surely you aren’t... you wouldn’t?”

  “Would the thought of it upset you so much?”

  He was speaking so softly that, if she hadn’t seen his lips moving, she’d have thought she imagined it. She met his eyes in the reflection. He pulled the neck cloth harshly from his neck and flung it over the top of the mirror.

  “Your face speaks for you. Doona’ fear. I’ll na’ spoil your bath with my presence. I should have paid better attention to your press.”

  Colin had full lips, but he’d thinned them as he spoke. The lines about his eyes weren’t the ones from laughter, either. She made some sort of noise he could take for whatever he wished and put her hands to her face. The corset fell to the floor.

  ~ ~ ~

  Ida was the elderly maid’s name. Elise knew that, and more, before she was dressed. She hadn’t washed her hair. It would have taken too long to dry. She was glad she’d had such foresight as Ida continued her meaningless prattle, like the amount of underclothing Elise was bent on wearing. Ida was appalled by the neckline, too. Elise wasn’t comfortable with it, either, but the maid’s nonstop criticism had her actually lowering the edge. Even Ida couldn’t help an intake of breath when Elise clasped her topaz-studded necklace in place, though.

  “I have to admit, Your Grace, that you do these old eyes proud to look at you. The abbey could use a bit of gaiety now and again. Makes my heart sad to see his lordship pining out his heart for that wife of his.”

  Howar
d . . . pining? Elise wondered with raised eyebrows.

  “Not that she cares a fig for him, or for the estate. Why, with the funds she spends in town, his lordship could have had his home rebuilt by now. And those boys...”

  Elise helped pin her own hair up in order to escape further revelations. Ida obviously hadn’t placed the new Duchess of MacGowan as Lady Sophie’s companion, the notorious Elise Wyndham, yet. She wasn’t about to enlighten her, either.

  As it was, Elise received an earful about the staff’s sufferings, the boy’s sufferings, his lordship’s sufferings…why everyone on the estate was suffering according to Ida. Through it all, Elise stayed silent. What answer could she make? It was Sophie’s right to enjoy the Season away from her husband, if that’s what she wanted. It was every woman’s right who’d been forced! Besides, Elise reminded herself, she knew where the money Sophie was spending actually came from, and it wasn’t from Ipswich.

  The abbey boasted a large dining room. The table was graciously arranged, and fresh flowers adorned each place setting. Elise found herself making small talk with a squire and his wife while she awaited Colin’s presence.

  She wondered where he had dressed. Then she told herself that it didn’t matter, as long as it was far from her.

  All the squire wished to do was talk of horses. Elise gave him what she could of her attention, because the wife’s eyes were on her neckline the entire time. It took every bit of her will not to reach to touch the topaz strand and cover herself more.

  “I see punctuality is another of your virtues.”

  Colin stepped from behind her, interrupting the other woman’s inspection. Elise turned to look up at him and found her eyes admiring the man beside her with every bit as much fervor as the squire’s wife was. In tight-fitting, black-checked trousers, superbly tailored jacket, and starched white bow tie, he was every bit a gentleman.

  She tried not to show her surprise, for he couldn’t have picked a better match to herself. She no longer looked out of place or too richly dressed. She looked like she was the Duke of MacGowan’s duchess. She was proud to stand beside him and introduce him as her husband.