by Renee Ryan
She needed to take a bolder step.
If only she knew how, what? With whom?
If only her mother were here to consult. If only . . .
Elizabeth stopped herself, appalled at where her thoughts had led. The mother she’d relied on in the past didn’t exist. In truth, she’d never existed.
Even when she was young, it hadn’t been Katherine St. James she’d sought out for counsel; it had been Hester. Elizabeth’s former governess always gave good advice. Why had she not thought of that sooner? She would visit Hester this very morning. The decision made her feel marginally better.
“You’re not eating.” Sally came up beside her, arms overflowing with Elizabeth’s clothing from the night before. “Are you feeling ill?”
“I’m perfectly well, thank you.”
A worried frown marred the maid’s delicate features. “You are certain? You’re looking quite pale.”
“I’m fine, Sally. Truly.” Elizabeth made a grand show of placing a napkin on her lap.
For the maid’s benefit, she forced a smile, picked up a spoon, and tapped the top of the egg. A series of cracks webbed across the shell. As she picked away the tiny fragments, she added, “I’m going out this morning.”
“What time will we be leaving?”
“This is something I’d prefer to do alone.” Hester would be more open and forthright if it was just the two of them.
Sally continued eyeing her, looking as though she had something more to say. “What about the menu for Thursday’s dinner party? I thought you wished to reconsider the selections for several of the courses.”
“I do, and I will review those with Mrs. Crawford once I return from my errand.”
The party was in celebration of Caroline and Jackson’s return from their month-long honeymoon. Wishing everything to be perfect, Elizabeth had made detailed lists. She’d checked and rechecked each of them a dozen times. She would probably do so a dozen more before Thursday evening. Nothing could be left to chance. The evening was too important.
“Do you wish to discuss the flower arrangements?” Sally persisted. “You said you wanted my ideas.”
“I most definitely do.” Sally had an eye for color like no one Elizabeth had ever met. “We will discuss them when—”
“You return from your errand.”
“Precisely.”
At last, Sally relented. “Very well. If there’s nothing else, I’ll leave you to your breakfast.”
“Thank you, Sally.”
The maid exited the room, looking back several times before finally shutting the door behind her with a soft click.
Less than twenty minutes later, Elizabeth dashed through St. James House. The trip to Riverside Drive would take at least a half hour, and only if she could coax her grandfather’s chauffeur to drive her there in the motorcar.
She passed the formal dining room, then stopped and retraced her steps. She’d completed the seating chart a week ago and had reviewed the layout several times since. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help worrying she’d missed something that would cause a problem the night of the dinner party.
Another look couldn’t hurt.
Standing on the threshold, Elizabeth surveyed the room. The table was already set for the thirty-two invited guests. Her grandmother’s silver looked spectacular next to the imported Irish crystal and bone china decorated with a swirling blue-and-gold pattern. All that was missing were the flower arrangements Sally would help Elizabeth design later that afternoon.
Something still felt . . . off.
Eyes narrowed, she wound her way around the table, checking the place cards one by one. Halfway through her inspection, she caught her mistake. She’d placed Jackson’s mother directly across from Caroline.
“How did I miss that?” She whispered the words aloud, though she was the only one in the room.
Lucille Montgomery was still furious with her son for choosing Caroline over Elizabeth—as if there’d actually been a choice. Caroline wasn’t especially fond of her new mother-in-law, either. On a good day, Mrs. Montgomery was a trying woman. On a bad one, she was impossible.
But she was Jackson’s mother, and so, regardless of her challenging temperament, she must be included in the celebration. Of course, the evening would go better for everyone, especially the guests of honor, if the difficult woman wasn’t forced to look at Caroline all evening.
Elizabeth thought a moment, searching the table carefully. At last she found her solution. She picked up the place card and moved Jackson’s mother next to Mrs. VanDercreek, an older woman of fine breeding and upstanding morals—one of the few people who tolerated Lucille Montgomery’s unpredictable moods.
As Elizabeth changed the woman’s seat, she realized she’d originally sat Luke beside Mrs. VanDercreek. By swapping his position with Jackson’s mother, Luke was now seated next to Elizabeth.
She was flooded with emotion—anticipation, excitement, and something else she couldn’t quite define. She lost herself momentarily in the sensations. Her eyes fluttered shut, then snapped back open. She was doing it again, thinking of Luke in ways that would only lead to disappointment.
Sighing, Elizabeth reached for the place card, paused.
What harm would come from having Luke as her dinner companion for one night? It was actually quite practical. Elizabeth could use the occasion to quiz him about British society.
Satisfied with her reasoning, she exited the room and slammed headlong into a wall of hard muscle encased in thin black wool.
“Oh.” She stumbled backward, arms flailing. “Oh, my.”
A hand reached out to steady her. “Easy now.”
Her breath burned hot in her lungs, only to turn ice cold half a second later. “Luke.” His name came out on a whoosh of air. “I didn’t see you there.”
“I gathered.”
His deep, gravelly voice washed over her, causing her heart to pound madly in her chest, the only part of her that seemed capable of moving. She couldn’t even manage a fidget.
“Finding one another in unexpected places is becoming a habit.” He leaned in close, humor in his eyes. “I like it.”
Elizabeth felt her lips curve. The man was beyond charming. He left her quite tongue-tied.
As if she were prey caught in the hunter’s snare, all she could do was look into his penetrating eyes. The unusual golden color reminded her of a tiger.
Say something, Elizabeth. Do something.
She couldn’t move, could hardly breathe.
Luke didn’t seem to notice her humiliating reaction to his nearness. Amusement continued dancing in his gaze. “Tell me, where are you headed off to in such a hurry?”
He punctuated the question with a smile. That smile.
“I have a . . . an”—she shifted her stance—“I have an appointment on the Upper West Side.”
“It must be very important.”
“I . . . well, yes. It is.”
Outrageously nervous, she desperately wanted to smooth a hand across her hair and tuck away any loose strands. If only Luke weren’t standing so close, she might be able to think properly. She could smell his familiar scent, a pleasant mix of shaving soap and some woodsy spice all his own.
The man should not smell so good.
The humor in his eyes moved into his voice. “I, too, have an important appointment this morning.”
“Here?” She couldn’t imagine what would have brought him to St. James House at this early hour.
“It’s with your grandfather.”
That was odd. Why hadn’t he approached Grandfather at his office? Elizabeth waited for Luke to explain.
He said nothing.
He simply continued staring at her with that half-amused, overly patient expression she was growing to dislike intensely. She’d seen him give Penelope that very same look. When her friend was ten years old.
Frustration coursed through Elizabeth. After their encounter in the gardens last evening, she’d hoped matters had
changed between them. Nothing but wishful thinking on her part.
“Well, then. I won’t keep you.” She attempted to step around him.
He barred her escape, his piercing gaze boring into her as if he could see straight into her soul.
“Elizabeth.” He touched her sleeve, casually drew his hand back. “I can’t help thinking I’ve somehow upset you just now.”
He had, though she’d never admit such a thing out loud.
“Not in the least. I was . . .” Think, Elizabeth. Think of something smart and clever to say. She blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “It’s just that my head is full of plans. I have much to do in the next two months.”
“What happens in two months?”
Why had she said anything at all? Now she had to explain herself. “I set sail for England.”
His eyebrows slammed together. “I didn’t realize you were going on a tour of the British Isles.”
“I’m not.”
“Then why are you sailing to England in two months?”
“I am going there to”—she forced herself to hold his gaze—“find a husband.”
Throat burning, heart pounding, Luke stared at Elizabeth in muted shock. For a moment, he thought he must have misheard her. She couldn’t possibly be planning to travel all the way to England to find a husband.
“You wish to marry . . . a Brit?”
“Is that so hard to believe?”
“Actually, yes.”
“Well, it’s true.” Elizabeth’s stiff spine and lifted chin spoke of female mutiny, as if she expected him to laugh.
Luke had no desire to laugh.
He tried to swallow the lump in his throat but couldn’t. Elizabeth wouldn’t be the first American girl to travel to England in search of a husband with a title. There’d been a steady stream of wealthy young heiresses for twenty years, ever since King Edward VII, while still the Prince of Wales, had developed a fondness for them.
Luke couldn’t tolerate the idea of Elizabeth joining their ranks. “Why go to England when there are plenty of eligible men in New York?”
“I should think it obvious.”
“Not really.” He couldn’t keep the incredulity out of his voice. The woman belonged in America with her family and friends. “Help me understand.”
She tilted her head, her thoughts whirling in her gaze, her hands clasped at her waist. “My family has prestige, money, and social status. They lack only one thing.”
“The St. James family lacks for nothing.”
“We don’t have a title.”
Luke considered himself unflappable. It was one of the traits that made him successful in negotiating difficult business deals. Yet, with a single, unexpected phrase, Elizabeth had managed to throw him completely off balance. “You wish to marry a stranger to acquire a title for your family?”
“Precisely.”
Some of his puzzlement edged into irritation. “That’s absurd.”
A small defeated sigh whispered out of her. “It’s the one thing only I can do for the family.”
Remorse hit him hard and intense. His words had been full of disapproval, making him sound far too much like his father. He needed to apologize, immediately. “Elizabeth, don’t misunderstand me. I didn’t mean—”
“I know what you meant.” She blew out a fast puff of air. “You don’t believe I can entice a man with a title.”
Clearly, he’d insulted her. Luke reined in his frustration and spoke from the heart. “I believe you will take England by storm.”
For the span of a heartbeat, she blinked up at him with a sweet, grateful smile that reached inside his chest, gripped his heart, and tugged. Hard.
Warning bells went off in his head, loud and insistent.
Standing in the dim light of the hallway, he could not look away from those sculpted cheekbones, the perfectly bowed lips, and the pretty blue eyes the color of summer skies.
When had Elizabeth become so enticing? When had she grown into this stunning blend of delicate and exotic, innocence and boldness? And she wanted to marry a man for his title? The thought annoyed him.
“Do you have any advice for me?”
“Concerning . . . ?”
A half smile played across her lips. “How I can make myself more agreeable to the eligible English gentlemen.”
She wanted to be more agreeable?
The emotion that swept through him was like a summer thunderstorm, violent, unexpected, blowing in out of nowhere.
Needing a moment to calm his chaotic thoughts, he gave her a frank appraisal. A mistake. She looked young and fresh this morning. The cut of her dress showed off her curves, reminding Luke she was no longer a child but a woman. The moment she entered her first English ballroom, she’d be the talk of the entire British Isles.
Every man in England would clamor for her attention. Some would be genuinely interested in her. Others would have their eyes solely on her grandfather’s money.
Elizabeth was worth more than a hefty dowry.
And . . . she’d asked him a question.
“You will be a grand success, no matter what you do.”
It was the simple truth, and he hated it. An odd response, to be sure, one he’d have to explore later. When he wasn’t listing to port thanks to this strange, unnerving conversation.
“There must be something I can do to make myself more engaging.”
The muscles at the back of his neck knotted. Elizabeth St. James was already too engaging for her own good. The British didn’t deserve her. They wouldn’t appreciate her.
“Your family has agreed to this ridicu—” He took a deep, steadying breath. “Your father and grandfather approve of this scheme?”
“It was their idea.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
She performed a delicate shrug.
“Why did you agree to their request?” He couldn’t believe she wanted a title for herself. The Elizabeth he knew was not that superficial.
“I need a change, Luke. And I want to start over in a place where people don’t know my mother.”
Hearing those halting words, spoken in that low, vulnerable tone, Luke could find no fault in Elizabeth wishing to flee New York. He wondered why she hadn’t done so sooner. “The business with your mother has truly upset you.”
She nodded, looking as miserable as he’d ever seen her.
A burst of sympathy filled his chest. He knew the pain that came with discovering beloved parents weren’t who—or what—they seemed.
“You lived in London for three years,” she said. “You must know the British people well enough to suggest a few things I can do to set myself apart.”
“You’re perfect just the way you are.”
“That’s kind of you to say.”
Kindness had nothing to do with it. “It’s the truth.”
“You don’t have one piece of advice to share?”
Don’t go.
The plea swept through his mind. “Be yourself.”
“But, Luke, don’t you see? That’s the problem.” Her fathomless blue eyes held a large dose of anxiety. “I don’t know who I am beyond the most obvious character traits I present to the world. What if there is nothing more to me than meets the eye? What if I lack . . . substance?”
“Elizabeth, where is this coming from? I’ve never known you to question yourself like this.”
Eyes not quite meeting his, she rolled her shoulders as if ridding herself of a heavy weight. “I haven’t felt myself for some time now.”
Of course she hadn’t. She’d experienced a great shock several months ago. He wanted to shield her from further discomfort. Unfortunately, facts were facts. Elizabeth had a family secret that must be hidden from the world.
Luke knew all about keeping family secrets.
Compelled, he lifted his hand in her direction. He wasn’t sure what he meant to do. Perhaps he simply planned to offer a comforting touch to her arm. Perhaps he meant to cup her
cheek and tell her she was more than a pretty face.
He would never know, because she stepped out of his reach before he could make contact.
“The hour grows late.” This time, her gaze didn’t quite meet his. “Good-bye, Luke.”
His hand dropped to his side and his voice went hoarse. “Good-bye, Elizabeth.”
A heartbeat later, she was on the move once again.
Luke stood immobile, watching her until she turned the corner and the sound of her footsteps faded.
He’d felt a connection with Elizabeth this morning, stronger than what he’d experienced the night before, deeper than attraction, a sort of solidarity. Her concern that she was nothing more than the product of her upbringing hit close to home. Luke had been groomed to take over his father’s business.
He wanted nothing to do with maintaining Warren Griffin’s legacy, however, hence his meeting with Richard St. James. No matter how the conversation went, he would continue building his fortune in his own way, on his own terms.
His only obligation was to Penelope.
Her future must be secure before he made the final break from his father. Now that Penny’s engagement to Simon Burrows was official, Luke was nearly satisfied his sister was in good hands. He had some digging left to do.
So far, her fiancé was exactly what he seemed. That didn’t mean the man was free of secrets. If he was hiding something dark, deceitful, or dishonest, Luke would ferret out the truth.
But first . . .
He took off down the corridor with purposeful strides, his heels striking the hardwood floor like hammers to nails. He caught the sounds of piano music coming from deep within the house. Someone was playing the first strains of a concerto from the opera Carmen. It was the dimmest of sounds, but enough to send a jolt of shock quivering through him. Luke’s steps abruptly halted.
Carmen was his father’s favorite opera. All of Warren’s paramours eventually sang the lead role in his private theater. Esmeralda had begun the tradition a decade ago.
Luke remembered the last time he’d seen the celebrated diva. He’d come home a day early from boarding school. His grades had been good enough to earn him the honor of salutatorian. He’d wanted to tell his father personally. He’d found Warren in the opera house, in an intimate embrace with Esmeralda—