"I'm sorry. I do not follow." There it was again. That strange trace of an accent that Eliza could not place. "You are an attractive young lady with a suitor. Why would you wish to hide?" He paused. "Moreover, how do they allow you to hide? They are merely spectacles."
This time, Eliza's laugh was genuine. The man had a sense of humor. She liked that about him. "You know very little of society, don't you?" she asked.
"I know very little of anything, it seems," he replied and she had the impression that getting him to trip himself up and reveal his true intentions would not be as easy as she had first imagined.
Stopping briefly, Eliza plucked a lush, pink peony from a cluster of them, inhaling deeply at the flower's lovely scent. As they continued on, she twirled the flower between her fingers. It gave her hands something to do so they would not be restless. Often times, the restlessness she felt inside of herself manifested in uncontrolled fidgeting. The last thing she wanted was to appear weak in front of this virtual stranger.
"Very well. I can accept that." She untied the strings of her bonnet and pulled it off of her head. Stranger or no, the blasted thing was hot, especially with the sun rising higher in the sky. Mama would likely have a fit, but Eliza did not care. "Society is a strange beast and the members of it can often times be ruthless, especially to those who do not meet preconceived ideas of beauty and grace."
That made Stephen frown. "Then really, it is not much different than the rest of the world." That showed an understanding of society as a whole that gave Eliza pause, but she filed that information away for later, along with the rest of this peculiar conversation. "Is it?"
"Not so much. No," she agreed. "However, within the ton, unlike the rest of the world, there is no forgiveness for a misstep. However small it might be. Or for being plain and unfashionable. Or overly tall, for that matter." She gave a small laugh. "A woman can purchase the finest of gowns, but if she lacks the curves and, shall we say 'charms', that society dictates are necessary for her to attract a potential husband, then she is often ridiculed and relegated to the realm of wallflowers. And Heaven help her if she shows any hint of intelligence."
"And the glasses help in that regard?" The disbelief in his voice was clear.
She shrugged. "They help to make you invisible. So ugly in the view of those who preside over what is considered beautiful that eyes skip right over you until you become little more than wallpaper. And if society cannot see you, they cannot cut you. Or be cruel. So yes, they do."
For a few moments, they continued on in silence, Eliza conscious of Stephen's injured leg, even though he showed no signs of fatigue, unlike her friend Caroline's husband Marcus did.
"That is patently absurd," Stephen finally offered with a sigh. "However, in a very twisted way, it also makes a great deal of sense."
"That is the ton," Eliza replied honestly, "and it is the world you will soon enter once more." She spoke as if she believed he was truly Stephen, even though the understanding hung between them that she didn't believe a word of his claims.
He seemed to give that some serious thought. "I have faced worse," he finally replied. "Or I believe that I have. My body's injuries tell me that I have, at any rate." Then he glanced down at her ungloved hand where it rested on his arm. "That ring. Where did you get it? You wore it last night, though it does not seem to suit you. It is for a child, is it not?"
"You do not remember it then?" In truth, Eliza had all but forgotten she still wore it, an indication of how distracted she was. She was also surprised that his words hurt far more than she would have anticipated for some odd reason.
His lips twisted. "I am afraid not. Should I?"
"You gave it to me for my twelfth birthday." She exhaled wearily. "Said that I was a lady now and deserved to have a lady's ring."
"It means a great deal to you." Stephen frowned, still staring at the ring, as if trying to force himself remember.
Eliza refused to lie. Especially not about this. "It does," she admitted. "But I do not expect you to remember." The deeper meaning of her words was clear but he did not immediately remark upon it.
Drawing in a deep breath, Stephen slowly let it out. "I will make you believe me, Eliza," he said after a moment. "I am your brother, whether you realize it or not."
She said nothing, merely continued to walk with him in silence along the twisting garden path until they had neatly looped back around to the gazebo. Oddly, it was a companionable silence to a large degree, something she had not thought possible with a man she did not know and did not believe.
When they arrived back at the small, white-washed structure, Stephen turned to Eliza and bowed. "Whether you believe me or not, this has been a most enjoyable and informative morning. One I hope to repeat." He glanced over her shoulder and his eyes narrowed a bit. "And for all that you claim that your spectacles hide you and make you unattractive, there is at least one man in England who clearly does not share that opinion." He nodded once. "Lord Candlewood seems to find you appealing enough to court you. And I am given to understand that he is an extremely choosy man."
Then Stephen dropped his arm and turned to his left, sketching as much of a bow as his leg would permit. "Your grace. I bid you good day." Then he was gone, hurrying along the short path back to the town house as quickly as his injured leg would carry him. Eliza watched him depart, conscious of Nicholas' looming presence beside her.
"He does not care for me. Smart man." Nicholas finally spoke after what seemed like an endless silence.
"There are days I do not care for you either. Your grace." Eliza knew she was being snippy but she was still irritated over the events of the previous evening. And his presence had ruined what had been an otherwise surprisingly enjoyable morning. For now she was faced with the reality that she had so rashly accepted last night. She now had a pretend suitor that she did not want, one that would do nothing but generate gossip and place her right back in the center of society - which was precisely where she did not wish to be.
"Come now, Brat." Nicholas' voice was laced with humor, which only served to annoy her further. "You have adored me in secret for months now. And I have finally decided to take pity on an aging spinster. Though whether for sport or out of a sense of altruism is still the subject of much debate. Or so the story goes, anyway."
Eliza froze. "What do you mean, 'or so the story goes'? What have you done, Nicholas? There is no way anyone could know of what transpired in the drawing room last night. Not even the gossip belowstairs is that rapid." Then she turned to look at him and saw the dark, bluish shadows beneath his eyes. She could tell he had not slept at all the previous night. She shuddered to imagine what he had been about, but she was also afraid that he was about to tell her.
Leaning over, he picked a white peony to go with her pink one, offering it to her in a flourish in a very un-duke like manner. "This plan of yours is messy business, Brat. There were so many details to attend to."
"My plan?" she hissed and once more resisted the urge to wallop him with her fists. "I merely suggested that Stephen - or whoever that man is - live with us until we can ascertain his true identity. For you know as well as I that he is most decidedly not my brother! This suitor business and what not? That is all upon you! Not me!" Then she paused before adding. "My lord."
Too late, Eliza saw a flash of something in Nicholas' eyes and before she could react, he had unceremoniously hauled her behind the gazebo and closer to the mews where they were less likely to be seen from the house. He pressed his body against hers, pinning her to the side of the wooden structure covered by thick ivy so that they would not be easily seen by a passer by.
She should have felt true fear. Instead, she felt nothing but anger and annoyance. And something else low in her belly that she did her best to ignore.
"You are the one who came to me last night, Izzy!" Nicholas growled. "You are the one who asked for my help. If not for your late night - and might I add, completely inappropriate - visit to my chambers, I would h
ave awoken this morning with some lovely young morsel in my bed after a night of unspeakable pleasure!"
Normally, Nicholas would not have dreamed of speaking to any normal, innocent young lady in such a fashion. But Eliza was far from a typical young woman of breeding. She was also no longer as innocent as she had once been. Her maidenhead might yet be intact, but other than the physical, any innocence she had possessed was long since gone, her brother's death stripping away her gently bred sensibilities and leaving a slightly jaded woman behind.
Still, he felt a small twinge of guilt, especially when he noticed her flush. Then he remembered Julia and the way the horrible Lord Landover had spoken to her when he was attempting to blackmail her into his bed. What Nicholas had just said to Eliza was little better. Perhaps in some ways, it was even worse. Still, she knew how to goad him into anger and each time, he allowed it. That was his fault. Because of who she was. Well, no longer. Not if they were going to pull off this charade. At the very least, they had to pretend to like each other. Which he did most of the time. Except when she angered him.
"My apologies, your grace," Eliza snapped back. "I was unaware that I was keeping you from your more important duties. I am certain Madame Philotes at The Golden Temple misses your business."
The duke visibly blanched and Eliza knew she had greatly offended him. Strangely, it did not make her feel better. Rather, it only made her feel worse. "I am sorry, Nicholas," she said as she bowed her head. "I know you would not seek out your release there. You are not the sort of gentleman to prey upon helpless women who have fallen on difficult times."
Even in the polite, sheltered circles of young debutantes that Eliza moved in, it was no secret that Madame Philotes, the proprietress of the aforementioned Golden Temple - having long since run out of fallen society women to prey upon - now actively sought innocent society misses whose families were destitute. Madame Philotes would offer to purchase the young lady in question, often from a noble family with numerous daughters, in exchange for a handsome donation to the coffers of the family in question. Depending upon the family, some of the offers were quite generous indeed. Typically, however, the girls were from families that did not spend much time in London, preferring to rusticate in the countryside. But not always. And it was creating something of a scandal. Not to mention angering Prinny very much.
The daughters of earls, dukes, viscounts, and other titled men who gambled freely and often lost large sums now lived in fear of being sold to the infamous brothel, like so much cattle in exchange for coin. Human life, even in the highest reaches of society, could be bought. For the right price. But Eliza knew that a man like Nicholas would not be a willing part of it. She had been wrong to accuse him of such actions.
"I am glad you realize that, Izzy." Nicholas' body lost a bit of its stiffness and his face relaxed. "After all, that is precisely the sort of place Ellie might have found herself in had The Golden Temple been in operation when she was young."
Now it was Eliza's turn to feel the sting of hurt, even though in her case, she was being completely and utterly ridiculous. After all, Nicholas wasn't really her suitor and never would be. In fact, they felt nothing for each other at all. Well perhaps nothing other than an old, worn friendship and an occasional deep sense of aggravation. No, Eliza harbored no tender feelings towards The Bloody Duke. And he certainly wasn't pining away over the bluestocking Eliza Deaver.
Everyone in London - and most likely all of England - knew that Lady Eleanor Berkshire, once known as the impoverished, but beautiful and blue-blooded Incomparable, Ellie Reynolds, had been the great love of Nicholas' life. Except Nicholas hadn't been a duke in those tender, early years of young love, and her family, desperate for funds, had essentially sold her fertile young body to the Marquess of Berkshire - who still lacked an heir after numerous wives - in exchange for a tidy sum.
There was some debate about whether or not Ellie actually returned Nicholas' love or whether she was simply angling to put herself in a position to become a duchess one day. Or whether she had gone willingly into the marriage with Berkshire in hopes of eventually nabbing his nephew, who would become the heir when the old man eventually passed. Especially as it was unlikely that the marquess would be able to sire a child at his advanced age. What was certain, however, was that Nicholas had been all but broken when his beloved Ellie had married Berkshire.
Unexpectedly - or perhaps not, depending upon one's position on the issue - Ellie had rebelled shortly after her wedding and had spent one night in Nicholas' arms before the marquess had threatened to have the newly named young duke killed - quickly and quietly. That nasty event had essentially ended the affair between Nicholas and Ellie before it had really begun. But it had not ended the love that lingered between them. Or so the story went. Eliza wasn't quite certain what she believed.
Then, in an odd quirk of fate, the marquess had died most embarrassingly at Seldon Park, Nicholas' country seat, a few years previous. The man had been in bed with a chambermaid when he passed, though only a select few people knew that last salacious detail. Finally free of her husband, much of society had assumed that once Ellie was officially out of mourning, she would marry Nicholas - the man she had long professed to love more than any other.
However that had not happened. In fact, for the better part of the previous season, Ellie would not even speak to Nicholas. No one could explain it and if Nicholas could, he wasn't speaking on the matter. Then, just this past January, Ellie had died as well after falling down a flight of stairs at her country home, thus ending the possibility of a happily ever after for Nicholas and the woman who had been his first - and most likely only - true love.
"I am sorry, Nicholas." Eliza softened her tone. She was being unspeakably rude to a man who was simply attempting to help her. At her request, no less. "I am merely aggravated. I did not sleep well last night."
That made him chuckle. "Neither did I, Brat." She was thankful when his voice took on the teasing tone she was familiar with and he used that hated nickname. There was an odd comfort in that, and she suddenly had a new appreciation for why her parents sought out the sameness in life. It was familiar. Comfortable. More than that, comforting.
"Stephen's reappearance has complicated matters." He released her from his tight grasp and spun them around so he leaned back against the gazebo. For once, he was simply tired and not attempting to appear annoyed or disinterested. "For many of us. Especially me, as I have been working on several matters for Prinny. Secret matters, so you must not speak of this to anyone." Eliza nodded, eyes wide. "That includes ending The Golden Temple as a business venture."
Eliza swallowed hard. "A noble endeavor. I shall not tell a soul." Actually, she was amazed that he was trusting her with the knowledge at all."
"I did not think you would, Brat. I rather like and appreciate that about you." He drew in a deep breath and she had the feeling that were Nicholas a lesser man, he might simply keel over where he stood. But he did not. "In order to attend to what our beloved regent now believes is the most pressing issue - namely the return of Stephen Deaver from the land of the deceased - I had to do some planning. And some coaxing. And a lot of rearranging. Especially if this plan of ours is to work - which it must. For everyone's sake."
Nicholas was thankful when Eliza had the good sense not to make a snide remark about him being a spy. He truly wasn't. At least he didn't consider himself one. Well, not in the traditional sense, anyway. He had simply started collecting information for his own purposes one day and discovered rather by accident that he was quite good at it. As a duke, he had access to places that others of his set did not. When Prinny discovered Nicholas' talent, he had been pressed into service for the Crown as well.
Most of the time, Nicholas didn't mind and often enjoyed himself quite thoroughly. There was something of a thrill in being The Bloody Duke, after all. But as of late, the entire state of affairs had begun to wear upon him. He was ready to step away. He was tired of being The Bloody Duke - a
t least every time he went out in public. He could never be just Lord Nicholas Rosemont, the Duke of Candlewood, any longer. He felt as if he was playing a role, one that no longer suited him as it once had.
More than that, Nicholas was growing old. At nearly seven and thirty, he had yet to begin filling his nursery. True, his sister Julia and her husband Benjamin Sinclair, the Duke of Radcliffe, were filling theirs and would likely one day have a spare son that could inherit the Candlewood dukedom. Still, a part of Nicholas wanted an heir of his own. A true heir of his own flesh and blood. And the older he became without finding a suitable bride, the less likely the became.
That was part of the reason why the idea of him courting Eliza was at least a bit believable.
Over the years, she had been seen in his company on occasion. It had mostly been because Nicholas was aiding her father on some matter or other out of a sense of guilt, but still, other than the now-deceased Ellie, Eliza was the most constant woman in his life. No one with any amount of sense would believe that he was suddenly courting a pretty young debutante fresh out of the schoolroom. At least not without a great deal of scandal and objections from the young lady's father. But the older, plain, bluestocking, nearly-on-the-shelf Lady Eliza? A woman he had been seen with before? When he was clearly in need of an heir and a wife who would look the other way at his rakehell activities, simply counting herself lucky to be wed at all? That was something people might believe. Or not. Possibly not since, on the surface anyway, Nicholas and Eliza were an unlikely pair. Not just physically but in every other way as well.
Still, in order to stick close to the man claiming to be Stephen, it was the story Nicholas needed to promote. And he had spent a good part of the night doing just that. The morning gossip sheets were all atwitter at the possibility of The Bloody Duke finally settling down - with a most unlikely choice of bride. It hadn't been easy to sell that particular lie, but he'd done it. After all, he could persuade people to do just about anything he wished. Well, except Ellie, but she was another matter entirely.
The Secret Seduction of Lady Eliza Page 6