Elizabeth wanted to cry.
“I see Lady Delphine is working her usual magic.”
The amused voice roused Elizabeth, lifting her away, momentarily, from her misery. “Charles,” she said, allowing the pleasure she felt to colour her tone. This was one surprise that was pleasant. “I had not thought to see you again.” She gave her hands to the giant towering over her.
He grinned, transforming his handsomely ugly face and his hands engulfed hers, but Elizabeth saw the care lines around his eyes.
“Poor Charles, does it still hurt very much?”
“Bless you for remembering, little Elizabeth,” his hearty chuckle relieved Elizabeth’s mind. “No, I cannot claim an invalid’s status. Poor weather bothers me a little, but I am gaining the reputation as a veritable weather vane in compensation.”
Mary cleared her throat and Elizabeth released Charles’ hands to pull her friend’s arm through hers.
“My love, may I present Captain Fitzalan, late of the 18th Light Dragoons? Do not allow his demeanour to fool you, he may act the buffoon, but he really is most brave. Captain Fitzalan was badly wounded at Bergen, some years ago. He may joke about it now but, for a time, we feared for him.”
Mary’s mouth was round with amazement and there was the slightest glint of hero worship in her eyes. Elizabeth understood her friend’s fascination. Captain Fitzalan was striking.
Not one of his features could be considered handsome exactly but, taken as a whole they were extremely attractive to a susceptible heart. Thick, tawny gold hair formed a halo around his head, whilst broad shoulders filled his coat admirably. He was also, Elizabeth knew, one of the kindest of men and, when she had been about in Society, one of her dearest friends.
Had you had any sense at all you would have fallen in love with him, her conscience whispered. But you had to plummet into love with his best friend. Fool.
Involuntarily, Elizabeth’s eyes were drawn to the corner of the room where Lord Runthorne stood in the shadows and she sighed.
“Elizabeth,” Charles re-captured her attention, “are you well?”
“Oh, Charles,” Elizabeth said, “I am quite well, I do assure you. Why should I not be? I have the best of friends in Mary, my aunt is most kind and I must love Captain Maybourne for bringing me my dear friend.” She stopped, aware that she was babbling. Charles eyed her shrewdly, but, to Elizabeth’s relief, turned the subject and his attention away.
“Miss Granger,” he said, his deep voice softening a little, “I do not believe I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance. Are you some connection of the Captain’s?”
Mary fluttered and blushed, keeping her large eyes lowered. “I am his ward, Captain Fitzalan.” She peeped at him from below her lashes in, what Elizabeth was sure was an unintentional flirtation. Elizabeth tried not to smile, her friend was so innocent and Charles was so kind, she did not think her young friend was in any danger. She glanced at Charles’ face and wondered if her older friend would be so safe.
“How did that come about,” he rumbled, his eyes fixed on Mary’s sweet face.
“My father and he served together as boys. My father was killed at the Battle of the Nile.”
Elizabeth knew there was no quicker way to Charles’ sympathies than the loss of a parent. “You poor girl,” he said, softly.
“Thank you, sir, but truly I did not know him that well.” Mary sighed. “It is sad, but he was away at sea so often that I only knew him through my mother’s eyes.”
“The loss to her must have been terrible, Mary.”
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at the sudden intimacy but neither Charles, nor her friend appeared to notice, although Mary blushed when Charles took her hand. “She did not outlive him more than a week,” she said, so quietly that even Elizabeth barely heard her. “However,” she rallied, “Captain Maybourne became my guardian and he has been all kindness.”
“Miss Granger will be presented next Season,” Elizabeth said. She was a little troubled by the instantaneous fascination her friends appeared to have for each other. “This house party is by way of adding a little polish before that ordeal.” Her voice seemed to break their spell. Charles dropped Mary’s hand who blushed, mortified.
“Society will be delighted to be adorned by such a jewel,” Charles said, but made no further attempt to monopolise Mary. Instead he turned his attention to the rest of the room.
“Your aunt has gathered quite a crowd,” he said to Elizabeth. “Where is she? I must greet her.”
The drawing room was now quite full. As a widow Aunt Edina had not entertained, but her new marriage had given her the perfect opportunity and she had clasped it with both hands.
“She is embracing Society,” Elizabeth said, searching for her aunt amongst the guests.
“There she is,” she said, spying her aunt talking to a small, rotund man. It was Mr Lacey, a colourless gentleman who had always seemed rather self-effacing when she knew him in London. It was as though his more dominant wife had drained all enthusiasm from him.
“Come, I will take you to her.” Elizabeth linked her arm through Charles’ and drew him forward. They skirted the room, passing close by where Miss Lacey sat. Lord Runthorne was bent over her.
Admiring her bosom. She’s showing far too much.
Elizabeth ignored her baser self. She was not quite so successful at ignoring him. Her fingers itched to shake him. Instead she laughed, flirtatiously as though Charles had said something to amuse her.
“What are you doing, Elizabeth,” Charles murmured in her ear.
Elizabeth flushed but fluttered her lashes. “Oh, Charles, how can you say so,” she said. She glanced over at Lord Runthorne.
He was watching her and he did not appear to be amused.
***
“She is terribly fast, isn’t she?” Aurelia smiled dreamily into Runthorne’s eyes, her hands clasped beneath her full bosom. “I cannot abide such forwardness.” Her lisping voice softened so that he had to lean closer to hear. Her lips parted and he jerked away.
“I had not noticed,” he said.
“Really?” Aurelia gave a tinkling laugh, “and yet you watch her so closely. I do believe I should be jealous.”
She lacked the light touch of an experienced flirt, but Runthorne was certain she would soon learn. “You have no reason for that,” he said.
“Indeed, I do hope not because, Runthorne dear, I always get what I want.” She smiled, showing her small, sharp teeth.
In that moment she seemed so much like her mother, sitting next to her in silent, deaf chaperonage that Runthorne shivered. He glanced over at Elizabeth. Her head was thrown back as she laughed at something Charles had murmured in her ear. The long column of her neck was arched, exposed and vulnerable. Runthorne felt an unexpected stab of envy.
“Do you know her well?” Aurelia intruded on his thoughts.
“Not as well as I had thought,” he said.
Aurelia stroked her gown with a self-satisfied air. “Well, I for one would not appear so forward,” she said, “nor would I dress so shabbily. I think it most insulting for Mrs Maybourne to inflict a poor relation on this company.”
“Aurelia,” Lady Delphine touched her daughter’s hand in warning.
“Oh, come, Mama, you have said the same sort of thing in the past.” She laughed.
Runthorne found little amusement in the situation. “My dear,” he said, “what your mother is trying to tell you is that Miss Hampton is not only Mrs Maybourne’s niece - she was the daughter of the Suffolk Hamptons.”
It took a moment for comprehension to light in Aurelia’s eyes. Then her perfect lips made a little moue of displeasure. “You mean she is that Elizabeth Hampton? Really, I do think this is unforgivable. Runthorne, you must feel perfectly horrid.”
“Strangely, I am quite well,” he said.
“Well, I think it is disgraceful.” Aurelia sniffed. “I do like that Miss Granger, though. She is quite pretty.”
Runtho
rne smiled. It would seem that Aurelia had overheard Miss Granger’s admiring comments.
Lady Delphine shook her head. “Do not look for friendship there, Aurelia,” she said. “I, too, wondered if she would be a useful connection. After all, it is somewhat unorthodox to inflict a young lady on a house party when she has not yet had her Season. I thought it possible that she might be important. However, she is a nonentity.”
“I still like her,” Aurelia said, her lower lip protruding.
“Do not waste your time with her,” Lady Delphine said and snapped open her fan. “There will be more useful friendships to be made here, I am sure.”
“Why does everything have to be about connections?”
“Do try not to be so foolish, child.”
Runthorne coughed, interrupting the argument. “If you will excuse me, ladies, I believe I must discuss something with Captain Fitzalan.”
Approaching the little group, he heard Elizabeth chuckle. Her laugh was warm and intimate and Runthorne clasped his hands tightly behind his back.
“Charles,” he said, “it is good to see you.”
“James.” A grin split Charles’ face. “Or should I bow and scrape, my lord?” Charles thrust out his hand.
Runthorne was torn between relief at his friend’s irreverence and annoyance at his monopolisation of Elizabeth. After a small hesitation he shook Charles’ hand.
Charles winced, theatrically. “Have you been practising crushing bricks with your bare hands, James?”
“My apologies,” Runthorne said, then grinned. “I have come to rescue Miss Hampton. You will turn her head with your flattery.”
“You are interfering, my lord,” Elizabeth said. If her eyes could have shot daggers at him, Runthorne rather thought he would be crumpled at her feet, bleeding from multiple wounds. Instead, he just smiled.
“I assure you, my dear Elizabeth, that it was never my intention to interfere with you.”
For a moment Elizabeth looked shocked. Then her lips twitched. “You are the most impossible, despicable, contemptible creature,” she said.
“Oh. Elizabeth, please do not.” Miss Granger looked very pale and a deep groove marred her smooth forehead. Elizabeth put her hand out to the younger girl.
Charles slipped his arm around Miss Granger’s waist and she leaned into him as though he was her rock.
“Runthorne, Elizabeth, you forget yourselves,” Charles said, frowning. “This is not the time for your ill-mannered bickering. Miss Granger is quite overcome. I believe you owe her an apology.”
“My poor love,” Elizabeth said, “please tell us you forgive us? We were merely funning.”
Runthorne nodded agreement.
“Does your head hurt so very much?” Elizabeth stroked Miss Granger’s forehead. “Indeed we mean nothing by our nonsense. You must not let it distress you. What do you say, my lord?” She looked at him, her eyes appealing for help.
“Indeed, Miss Granger,” he said, although his eyes never left Elizabeth’s face, “Miss Hampton and I were just amusing ourselves. I am sorry if our banter caused you any distress. We would never wish to hurt you.”
***
Later, Elizabeth did not know how she had remained sane through the interminable dinner. She had been taken in by a young man who she neither knew, nor wished to know, as his conversation consisted of nothing but sullen growls.
He also seemed a little deaf as he ignored her polite requests for the dish of peas by his hand. She was glad that she had had the forethought to eat before coming down to dinner.
Matters did not improve when the ladies retired to the drawing room.
“She is so beautiful,” Mary murmured to Elizabeth gazing at Miss Lacey.
Elizabeth snapped her fan open, somewhat disconcerted at the spurt of jealousy she felt. She waved her fan to cool her cheeks.
It was childish, she knew, but Mary was her friend and it seemed traitorous for her to admire Elizabeth’s rival. Elizabeth dropped her fan. How can she be your rival, her conscience teased, you gave up any claim to Lord Runthorne seven years ago.
“Hush.”
Mary looked at her. “I beg your pardon, Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth forced a smile onto her lips. “Yes, she is certainly lovely.”
“Are you quite well, Elizabeth?”
“Of course.” Elizabeth rose. “I wonder if Aunt Edina would like you to play a little. I shall ask her.”
“Aurelia, my love, you shall play for us until the gentlemen arrive,” Lady Delphine commanded before Elizabeth could take a step. She sat down.
“Oh, yes, do,” Aunt Edina said before the silence grew too long.
Miss Lacey demurred at first but it did not take much encouragement to persuade her to take a seat at Mrs Maybourne’s pride and joy. It was her new and very elegant pianoforte. Candles were placed to illuminate her angelic face as she glanced through some sheet music to make her selection. She sat for a moment, her fingers poised, as though awaiting her cue. Then, as the door swung open to admit the gentlemen, she began to play. It was a simple love song, but she played it beautifully.
Without glancing in Elizabeth’s direction Lord Runthorne joined Miss Lacey, turning the pages, his dark head close to hers.
Elizabeth closed her eyes. She could almost feel him, as he had once stood so solicitously over her. It was he who had taught her that silly song she had been singing earlier. ‘When Love is Kind’. She had carried that song, their song, in her heart ever since.
She had not been an accomplished musician and had often misread the music, sometimes for the pleasure of allowing him to guide her fingers, his entwining with hers. Laughing, he would correct her, easing her frowns with a kiss.
She had never learned to play well.
Elizabeth forced her eyes open. It was no longer Elizabeth and Sir James, it was Miss Lacey and Lord Runthorne and they made a beautiful picture. They were Night and Day personified.
The last note faded and died away, leaving nothing but a respectful silence.
Then there was applause.
Lady Delphine was watching her with a malicious smile on her lips. Elizabeth forced a smile back.
“Miss Lacey is most talented,” Elizabeth said.
“Yes, she is. And so beautiful, is she not?” Lady Delphine’s eyes were hard, as though waiting for some sign of weakness.
“I do not believe anybody would deny that she has grown into a stunning young lady.”
Lady Delphine laughed. “I am blessed with beautiful daughters,” she said. “It makes it so much easier to arrange advantageous marriages. Do you remember Amanda? She had her Season the same year as you.”
“Yes, I remember.”
“She married Lord Marland a month after you – ah – disappeared.”
“I heard,” Elizabeth said. “Amanda was such a sweet girl, I am sorry I cannot write to her.”
“Your correspondence would be of no credit to her.” Lady Delphine smiled.
Elizabeth ignored the barbed comment. “I trust she is well, and Lord Marland too. I remember him as quite elderly and in poor health.”
Lady Delphine’s smile twisted. “He is well. Amanda is devoted to him.”
Elizabeth nodded, her heart aching for the girl she remembered. “Lord Marland was a friend of your father’s I remember.”
“He is not a dotard. They have four boys now,” Lady Delphine continued, oblivious to Elizabeth’s distaste. “Aurelia, of course, is far more beautiful and accomplished than Amanda.”
Now Lady Delphine’s smile was more of a snarl. “We are fortunate that Runthorne has come to appreciate such things. My girls will have the titles they deserve.” She paused, as though waiting for Elizabeth to rise to the bait.
“Perhaps you would care to play for us, Elizabeth,” she said when Elizabeth did not reply.
“I regret that I have not played for many years,” Elizabeth said.
“Well, perhaps you have not had the occasion to, under the circumst
ances.”
“No.” Suddenly weary of the word play, Elizabeth turned back to Mary. Charles was weaving his way through the crowd towards them and she smiled.
“Perhaps you would care to play now, my love. I am sure Charles would turn your pages for you.”
Mary blushed and shook her head. “How can I when Miss Lacey has played so beautifully?”
“I should be honoured to attend you, Miss Granger,” Charles said, holding out his large hand to assist her to her feet. Mary’s eyes shone and she laid her fingers in his hand. Charles’ fingers closed and they gazed at each other, oblivious to Elizabeth.
“Very well, if you wish it,” she said. She seemed to float across the room, her eyes never leaving Charles’ face. Once at the pianoforte, they bent their heads together, poring over the music. Elizabeth smiled at their amicable debate. At last Charles handed Mary onto the stool and took his place at her shoulder. The general conversation dipped as Mary began to play a sprightly country dance that set toes tapping.
“Miss Hampton?”
Elizabeth tore her attention away from Charles and Mary. Miss Lacey stood before Elizabeth, a small smile on her lips. “Runthorne,” she said, indicating him standing behind her, “tells me that you used to be a friend of my sister’s.”
“Yes, your mother has been kind enough to tell me how she is doing.” Elizabeth darted a glance towards Lord Runthorne, unsure whether to be concerned or flattered that he had told Miss Lacey about her. From the grim expression on his face, she decided that she should be concerned.
Miss Lacey’s smile turned malicious. “How painful it must be to slip out of one’s natural social circle.”
“Not painful, no,” Elizabeth said, coolly, despite a fervent desire to wipe that genteel sneer from her beautiful face. “In fact, I consider myself most fortunate.”
If Miss Lacey recognised the snub, she did not show it. “Indeed? Well, I suppose, given the circumstances of your - ah - abandonment, shall we say, of Society, you could be in a far worse situation.”
“Aurelia. That is enough.”
“Oh but, Runthorne,” Miss Lacey said, fluttering her long eyelashes, “Miss Hampton understands that I am merely congratulating her on having a most kind and understanding aunt. I meant nothing more.”
Lord Runthorne's Dilemma: A Regency Romance Page 3