“Indeed, my lord,” Elizabeth added, “you need not be concerned. I understand Miss Lacey perfectly.”
“Miss Hampton, you are too kind.” Miss Lacey reached out with a soft finger and laid it against Elizabeth’s wrist. “I do so love it when people understand me.” She turned her finger so that it slipped under Elizabeth’s bracelet. “What a charming little trinket,” she purred.
Elizabeth saw Lord Runthorne notice it for the first time. He looked at her, a question in his eyes.
“Yes, I have always been fond of it,” she said. “It was a gift.”
“An admirer?” Miss Lacey giggled. “How sweet.” She lifted her hand away and twisted her wrist in an elegant circle.
“Do you admire my bracelets?” She lifted her other hand. Two identical, heavy sapphire bracelets clasped her delicate wrists. The stones flashed in the candlelight, as blue and as cold as her eyes.
“Runthorne gave them to me,” she said. She leaned forward and whispered, “I always think the cost of a gift is an indication of the depth of a gentleman’s love.” She straightened and placed her hand on her betrothed’s arm.
“Mrs Maybourne has kindly suggested that I arrange some little theatrical entertainment to amuse us all. I trust you will participate. I am sure I can devise a suitable role for you.” Miss Lacey tilted her head. “It will not be overly taxing.”
Elizabeth smiled through gritted teeth. “You are most kind, Miss Lacey. However, I do not perform.”
Miss Lacey nodded. “Perhaps you are wise.” She smiled up at Lord Runthorne. “Ah, Miss Granger has finished her piece. Perhaps I shall be asked to play again. Please take me to my mother first, my lord.”
Elizabeth made a conscious effort to relax her hands. She did not want to break her fan’s delicate slats. How could that malicious girl be the sister of dear Amanda?
She stroked her bracelet. Was Miss Lacey right? When he had given it to her, Elizabeth had thought it had been a token of love and, despite all that had happened between them, it had remained a symbol of what love could mean. Simple and delicate, her bracelet bore no resemblance to the ostentatious shackles Miss Lacey displayed.
Elizabeth shook her head. Price should not be an indication of love. It was the appropriateness of the gift that mattered. Miss Lacey definitely seemed to appreciate her sapphires.
“Elizabeth, are you unwell?” Mary had returned and was looking at Elizabeth, concerned. “You are so pale, and you keep shaking your head.”
Elizabeth bit her lip. “You make me sound like a madwoman,” she said, attempting to lighten the mood.
“Well, you were mumbling under your breath,” her friend said.
“Then I must have sounded like one, as well,” Elizabeth said, blushing.
“That is better,” Mary said, “you were so pale I thought you might faint, but you have some colour, now.”
“Perhaps I was a little unwell, the heat,” Elizabeth said, “and speaking to Miss Lacey.”
“Yes, the heat can make me unwell, too.” To Elizabeth’s relief her friend seemed to accept the vague explanation. Charles obviously did not, but he said nothing.
“You should have said something to Miss Lacey,” Mary continued. “She is so beautiful. I have always thought that a face mirrors the person within.”
“Have you? How strange,” Elizabeth murmured.
“Oh, indeed,” she gave an emphatic nod. “It is not possible for a disagreeable person to have a pleasing face. Why, her ill-nature would make her face ugly to look at. Miss Lacey must be an angel. Do you agree, Captain?” Mary smiled at Charles.
“I believe that inner beauty can make a pretty young lady devastatingly lovely,” Charles said and raised Mary’s hand to his lips.
“My love, you are the sweetest of girls.” Elizabeth hugged her friend.
Mary blushed and ducked her head. “Oh no, indeed. It is just so clear to me that she must be a truly lovely person. Why else would Lord Runthorne be so in love with her?”
“Did he say so?”
“Heavens, Elizabeth, he would not speak to me about his feelings.” Her fingers fluttered to her mouth. “No, Miss Lacey was kind enough to share her heart with me. She said she wished I were her sister and asked me to call her Aurelia.”
Mary’s blush deepened and she leaned closer to Elizabeth, dropping her voice. “She said that she felt we would be good friends as soon as she saw me.”
“I see,” Elizabeth said, and she did.
“Now, Aurelia charged me to make you change your mind, my dear Elizabeth.”
“About what?” Elizabeth frowned at the sudden change in topic.
“Why about refusing to play,” Mary said. “I know you do not like to, in public, but I am sure you are quite good enough to entertain amongst friends. Now, please do not say ‘no’, Aurelia said you would refuse, but I know you will agree.”
“Indeed,” Charles chose that moment to add his encouragement. “You are better than you give yourself credit for, Elizabeth. Do not let anyone dismiss you.”
Elizabeth glanced from Charles to Mary, both of them so encouraging and confident in her. She smiled. “Very well, as you both wish it.”
Eyes turned towards her as she trod across the carpet towards the pianoforte. It felt as though a hundred people were crammed into the room, although Elizabeth was sure her aunt had not invited more than twenty or so. Butterflies danced in her stomach, and she hoped nobody would realise this as she set her fingers on the keys. For a moment she wondered what to play then she caught sight of Lord Runthorne leaning over Miss Lacey. Almost of their own accord, her fingers began to play.
“When Love is Kind,
Cheerful and free,
Love’s sure to find
Welcome from me”
As she sang, the memory of Sir James hovered at her shoulder. They had been so young and she had loved him deeply. Foolishly, some had said. Elizabeth closed her eyes, feeling the music, trying to re-capture the memories she had pushed away for so long. But even as she tried, they scurried away, like leaves before a storm. He was no longer simple ‘Sir James’, he was a lofty marquess and he had changed, become harder, less gentle.
The latter could be laid at her door.
“But when Love brings
Heartache or pang,
Tears and such things
Love may go hang!” she sang.
Well, Elizabeth had definitely allowed love to go hang. She had been a fool.
***
Runthorne kept the smile on his lips, but inside he was cursing. What had possessed him to announce his betrothal? It was one that he had entered into out of duty not desire.
Aurelia was pretty enough and he had no doubt she would grace his table and never cause him to blush for her, but the mild interest he felt for her paled into insignificance next to the attraction he had felt, still felt, for Elizabeth.
He tasted acid in his mouth and he had to admit, to himself if no-one else, that he had announced his betrothal in order to hurt her, just as she had hurt him.
It was the action of a fool and a madman, and one he would have to live with for the rest of his life.
His shoulders stiffened and his head lifted in surprise. Elizabeth was playing now, not as expertly as Aurelia certainly, but with a depth of emotion that no music master could instil. It was a tune he recognised, one that had weaved its way through his dreams for many years.
There was a sharp rap on his knuckles and only years of self-control prevented him from snatching Lady Delphine’s fan from her thick fingers.
“Runthorne, I do wish you would attend.”
“My apologies, Lady Delphine, my thoughts were wandering,” he said.
“So I see,” the venom in her voice might have poisoned a village. “If you would care to tear your thoughts away from what is apparently of vital importance, perhaps you would care to discuss a date.”
“A date?”
“For the wedding?”
“Oh, as you l
ike, Lady Delphine. I am at your disposal.”
“Really?” Lady Delphine had remarkably expressive eyebrows, Runthorne thought. “I had assumed that your wedding day would have been of some small interest to you.”
He tried to concentrate, it was not Aurelia’s fault that he had made a total mess of his life, nor that she had such an overbearing mother. He had offered for her and he was honour bound to go through with the wedding. She must never realise how much he regretted it.
“It is, of course of the deepest interest, Lady Delphine,” he said, making eye contact with Aurelia, “I merely meant that I want the day to be perfect for Aurelia. Knowing your great skill in such matters, I am sure I can leave the preparations in your safe hands.”
Lady Delphine fluttered and preened. “Well, my dear Runthorne, it is true that I was complemented on Amanda’s wedding. Lady Jersey was kind enough to say that she had never seen quite anything like it.”
He wondered what he had let himself in for. Still, he reassured himself, it would be a fitting start to his married life.
Aurelia smiled up at him. “Oh, Runthorne,” she breathed in her little girl voice, “you are so good to me.”
He hoped he would get used to the irritating lisp and the way she fluttered her eyelashes all the time. Perhaps if he asked her if she had something in her eye she might get the hint. No, he told himself sternly, that would be unkind and it was not her fault that he no longer found those mannerisms endearing.
“It is my pleasure,” he said, “I wish only for your happiness, my dear.” Elizabeth was coming to the end of her piece, but he kept his attention on Aurelia. He would not cause her any embarrassment.
Aurelia clapped her hands, like a child in prayer, as the other guests gave polite applause. “She is a much better player than she pretends."
“Miss Hampton?” He pretended to give the matter a little consideration. “Perhaps she feels she has not had the benefit of your training.”
“Oh, Runthorne,” Aurelia giggled, “I am sure I did not wish for a compliment, although Monsieur Bartout has been kind enough to tell me that my presentation is excellent. No, I do believe that Miss Hampton is quite a talented performer. She could be on the stage.”
He looked at her sharply, but she was gazing at him with wide innocent eyes.
“I am not sure her family would consider that appropriate.”
She giggled again, and he clenched his teeth. “You are so funny, Runthorne, of course I did not mean that she should be an actress, although I have no doubt she would be excellent in theatricals. I meant it as a compliment. You can be so stuffy sometimes.” This last was said with a little pout.
“My apologies, Aurelia.”
“Oh, now I have offended you.” She brushed her fingers, butterfly light, across the back of his hand.
“No indeed, now if you will excuse me, I would like to pay my respects to our hostess.”
“Well, I am sure I did not hear anything to commend in that performance,” Lady Delphine said, as he left. He glanced around the room, hoping Elizabeth had not overheard, but he did not see her anywhere.
***
Elizabeth rested her forehead against the wall.
Idiot, her conscience said. Did you really think that playing that piece of music would pull Lord Runthorne to your side?
No, not that. But it had hurt to look up and see him so in love with Miss Lacey.
Jealous.
No, she was not jealous, her pride was a little dented, and that was all. Surely no-one, not even her annoying conscience, could fault her for that?
Elizabeth paced. Was it any wonder that she required a little time alone? It was just that the hall was empty at the moment and blessedly cool after the heat of the drawing room and heat always made her feel a little weepy.
Elizabeth bit her lip. It was not a good sign when she started babbling in the privacy of her own mind.
“Elizabeth?”
She swallowed an involuntary sob and turned wiping her eyes surreptitiously. “Charles,” she said, “what brings you here?”
“I saw you leave and, forgive me, I was concerned.”
“There is no need. I am quite well, I assure you, just a little over-warm.”
“Ah,” Charles said, “yes, I can quite see how being over-warm would send you out into the hall to cry.” The amused understanding in his voice was almost her undoing.
“I think I may have a little dust in my eye,” she said.
“He does not love her, you know.”
Elizabeth did not pretend to misunderstand him. “She is beautiful, talented and, let us not forget a great deal younger than I am. Oh,” she added raising her hands to her cheeks in pretend surprise, “and of course she is now betrothed to him, so I hardly think anything else matters.”
“He loved you for a long time, Elizabeth. You hurt him deeply.”
Elizabeth shook her head “No, Charles, he never loved me. It was brought home to me quite forcefully that he cared for nothing but my inheritance.”
“You really believe that?”
Elizabeth had not known that Charles could appear so forbidding.
“Oh, yes,” she said. “If he had ever loved me, he would now be able to treat me with basic courtesy rather than insulting me. No, Charles, it was my money he loved and needed. In Miss Lacey he has everything, beauty, grace and, I have no doubt, a sparkling inheritance to match her eyes.”
She shrugged. “Although, I understand that is no longer a necessity.” She turned away so that she would not have to see the compassion in Charles’ eyes.
“You do him an injustice, Elizabeth,” Charles said, so softly she almost did not hear him. “Not only did he love you a great deal, anyone can see he still does. And you love him.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “Whichever of us is correct, it is immaterial,” she said. “He is betrothed and he cannot break his word.”
She snapped her fan open and then closed it. “And I do not love him. I am just overtired.”
She felt his arm slip around her shoulders in a brotherly hug. “I know, Elizabeth, I understand. I wish there was something I could do to help.”
“It is merely my pride that is hurt,” she said. Perhaps, if she said it often enough, it might become true.
“Elizabeth,” Charles said, sounding weary, “you are a dear and lovely lady, but I sometimes despair of you.”
CHAPTER THREE
Runthorne sat up and thumped his pillow, turned it and tried to find a cool patch. He lay down again and closed his eyes.
And saw Elizabeth’s face.
She had the same shocked expression that she had worn when he introduced Aurelia as his betrothed. He groaned and rolled over.
Elizabeth’s face followed him. He turned back on to his other side. But still she haunted him.
Runthorne sighed and pushed back the covers and padded over to the window. He pulled back the curtains. It was very early and the sun was barely over the horizon. He glanced back at his bed. The sheets were twisted, unwelcoming. He turned back to the window. The sky was clear, promising to be another long, hot day.
Runthorne gave in to the inevitable and rose with the sun.
A splash of last night’s water revived him enough to enable him to dress without Manton’s assistance. It came to something, he thought, when a titled gentleman was up and about before his servant. Many would have no compunction about rousting a mere valet out of bed, but he did not see why Manton should suffer because his master had irrevocably ruined his own life.
He picked up The Board of Agriculture’s treatise. He had tried to read it before bed but, for once it had failed to hold his attention. He opened it at random. As the time of harvest is considerably indicative of the climate, I shall here observe that in 1807-
He threw the treatise on the bed and picked up his coat. He had, without thinking, dressed for riding so Runthorne decided to find the stables. The large front doors were still barred and he did not attempt to open th
em. Instead he searched for, and found, the hidden door that led to the kitchens. It might be early but that was no reason to starve.
His footsteps sounded unnaturally loud on the uncarpeted stairs. Here, at least, someone was busy at work. The rich scent of fresh bread filled the air and he followed his nose until he found the source.
A thin-faced woman sat, enthroned in a large kitchen chair, whilst her minions bustled around her. She glared at him for a moment when he invaded her kingdom. Then she rose and curtsied.
“My lord,” she said. Her voice was a spiky as her person but he smiled.
“I wonder, Cook,” he said, “is there anything here to come between a man and his appetite?”
“This is a kitchen.”
Runthorne tried again. “Of course it is. Perhaps I might have a slice of that wonderful bread I smell?”
The cook sniffed but beckoned to one of her underlings who cut him a thick slice. “Butter?”
“If you would be so kind.” The surlier the cook became, the pleasanter he was determined to be. He took the bread and took a large bite.
“Delicious. Thank you,” he said.
A door in the corner of the kitchen was open to the outside and Runthorne, giving the cook a pleasant smile, walked out of the kitchen.
The air was fresh, with just a hint of dew, and he breathed deeply. It had been on a morning such as this that he had first seen Elizabeth.
He pushed the thought away and strode across the cobbles to the stables.
Baines’ head appeared over one of the stable doors.
“Good morning, my lord,” he said.
“Good heavens, what are you doing here at this hour?”
Baines inclined his head a little. “My current duties are light, my lord, so I have taken the opportunity to familiarise myself with our host’s stables.”
“I see. And how do you find it?”
Baines tapped his cheek, deep in thought. “It may be considered adequate,” he said, at last.
Runthorne smiled. “Well, see what you can find for me, if you would.”
Baines nodded. “There are a few beasts that might suit you,” he said, after some thought. Runthorne nodded. Baines did not like to admit that any stable held horses to rival his own.
Lord Runthorne's Dilemma: A Regency Romance Page 4