Elizabeth stifled a laugh at her sister's antics. "Milli... you are incorrigible."
Large gray eyes twinkled above a pert little nose, giving the false impression of a very innocent and manageable female, an impression Elizabeth had told her sister would find the girl in more trouble than Milli could handle some fate-filled day if she did not curb her theatrics.
William Shelby waved his hand in agitation at his youngest. "What in heaven's name are you talking about, Milli? There ain't nothing wrong with your heart!"
Milli shut her eyes and heaved a groaning sigh. "My love, my love, why have you failed me? Come to me and save me from these woeful ingrates."
"Ingrates?" William took a menacing step forward. "Listen here, my girl. Enough of this foolishness. You may want to be an actress in Drury Lane, but I will have none of that entertainment here."
Milli peeked out from one eye. "Papa, how could you disrupt my performance? I am only—"
"You are disrupting my conversation with your sister, and if you think for one second that I have forgotten your mischief with your last governess, you are sorely mistaken, girl."
Sitting up, Milli gave her father a mulish expression, then looked at Elizabeth with a shrug. "Well, I tried, Lizzie."
Elizabeth managed a smile, realizing Milli had only wanted to obtain her father's attention in order to divert the man from his goal. "Yes, you did, dearest. But I think this is something Papa and I need to discuss alone."
"Oh, very well." Milli stood solemnly and with the air of a queen, threw a righteous hand to her breast. "But never fear. Your knight in shining armor will come to you on his white horse and swoop you into his arms"—her arm swung wide, pointing deliberately at her father—"saving you from this conniving and despicable villain!"
William Shelby, his gray eyes widening in shock, shook a fat finger at his youngest daughter. "Now see here, Millicent, you have exactly five seconds—"
Milli frowned. "Well, I can see that you have no taste for theater, Papa. Did you know that Elizabeth thinks I'm wonderful? She thinks—"
"Millicent!"
"Oh, very well."
Putting a hand on her small hips, Milli lifted her chin toward her sister, gave a mischievous wink, and sashayed from room as if she were a flamboyant opera dancer luring the London bucks to her side like hapless, tongue-wagging puppies.
William Shelby blinked hard.
Elizabeth chuckled. "You must admit she is quite the little actress, Papa."
Shelby shook his head and turned a confused face upon Elizabeth. "She is that, my dear. The thing is, I have no idea where she gets it from. I fear she will never be as biddable as you."
Elizabeth raised a delicate brow in protest. "Biddable? I am most certainly not biddable. I will not marry a lord, Papa. I want to marry for love, like you and Mama."
Something flickered in the back of the older man's eyes, and Elizabeth's breath hitched. "You did love Mama, did you not?"
William Shelby fiddled with the fob on his waistcoat. "Certainly. Certainly. But that ain't the point, Lizzie. I want you to marry into a good family. Have a name for yourself. Blue blood, my dear, that's what counts."
He swallowed visibly and looked up. "Now that's the ticket for the good life. Once you are married into the ton, little Millicent will have her choice of husbands. It ain't much to ask, poppet. That's all I want for my girls. A place in Society. A place where they belong."
Elizabeth frowned. A place where they belong.
And there lay the crux of the problem. Her father was accepted in Society because of his money, yet there was always the hushed snicker, the snide remark, the malicious smile of a haughty dowager or another snob of the ton. To them, blood was everything, and William Shelby's blood was as contaminated as the Thames.
Elizabeth crossed the room and held her father's hand in a gentle grip. "But I don't want to belong to those people, Papa," she said, her voice softening. "Being part of that group means nothing to me. My life would be over if I married one of those stuffy lords. He would only be marrying me for my money, do you not see? I want love, Papa. Is that so much to ask?"
Her father gave her hands a squeeze. "See here, Lizzie. You are a beautiful girl. There are many men who would want you for a bride. Why not have a handsome lord if you have the choice?"
"But I don't seem to have a choice, Papa." Elizabeth jerked her hand away. "And besides, I am not beautiful. I am plain. My hair takes hours to curl, and at the end of the day it is as straight as a pole. As for the color, it is a drab mousy brown, nothing to fetch a man's eye."
"That ain't so, Lizzie."
"Oh, Papa. You are blind to my faults. And as long as we're speaking of eyes, see these?" She raised a finger to her brow. "My eyes, Papa—well, they are a dull blue, and I cannot read very well unless I have those stupid spectacles." She pinched her cheeks. "And look at these. I still have baby fat. I am not at all the thing. So the person who marries me will either love me for my heart or love me for my money. I choose my heart, Papa."
"You are not ugly, Lizzie. You are ... well, rather tall and pleasantly plump. And as for your eyes, they are, er, a very nice blue. But as to your marriage, I am only acting in your best interest. Believe me, I know about Society, my dear."
The door sprang open, and Milli appeared, dancing into the room with a tray of lemon cakes swaying in her hands. "No, Papa, they are the color of a mountain spring."
William's lips curled in exasperation at the outburst. "Millicent, by heaven, I have had just about enough out of you."
Milli batted her eyes. "But I have a tray of lemon cakes, Papa. Your favorite."
William's face softened. "Very well. Come in. We can always take a break for food. Ain't going anywhere, are you, Lizzie?" He chuckled as he swiped a cake off the tray. "Not as if some knight is going to break through the barriers here, eh?"
"No, Papa," Elizabeth said somberly. "No knight here."
William stuffed the cake into his mouth, wiping his lips with a napkin. "No one is going to tell me you're ugly, Lizzie. You are a very healthy female, and that's all a gentleman wants in a wife. Prime stock, you are."
"Papa, please."
William lifted his brows. "Well, you are a capital girl, Lizzie, and don't you forget it."
Milli glanced admiringly at her sister. "And your face, Lizzie, is like a whisper of heaven, with angelic cheeks of celestial rose. Your skin is as flawless as a diamond of the first water. Your hands are as soft as a lamb." She sighed dreamily. "Your knight will want to sweep you away forever."
William stuffed another bite into his mouth. "Life ain't a flight of fancy, Milli. Depend upon it. You've had too much of that Shakespeare and what not. My Lizzie has a head on her shoulders, she does. She's a practical girl, and doesn't fill her head with knights and white horses."
Milli's gray eyes flashed. "Oh, yes, she does! Why the other day she told me—"
Elizabeth interrupted her sister, placing a meaningful grip on the girl's arm. "Milli, please, not now."
"Oh, very well, but she does not want some pompous lord."
William patted his youngest daughter's head. "Yes, yes, now go on, Millicent. Your sister and I have more to discuss."
Elizabeth curled her hands by her sides. "But we have nothing to discuss, Papa. I will marry for love. I will not many some money-hungry lord. I don't care who you have in mind. I won't have it. I may have been biddable in the past, but this time I will put my foot down."
William squished the cake in his hands. "By Jove, you are going to marry a lord, Elizabeth!"
"I won't!"
"You will, even if I have to drag you to the altar myself."
"Papa!" The color drained from Elizabeth's face. Her father had never spoken to her with such anger. But she knew he meant what he said. There was no doubt about that. Without another word, she bit her lip and hurried from the room.
Milli gasped. "Oh, Papa," she said in a disgusted whisper.
William flushed to t
he roots of his white hair. "I ain't one to drag you, Lizzie," he shouted. "You know I ain't. Something in those lemon cakes, you know. Always bothered me."
Milli turned on him when she heard her sister sob. "She will have her knight, and I will see to it."
With a hand to her forehead, Milli fled the room, her voice dwindling to a theatrical whisper. "Oh, treason of thy very blood, murder not my heart for I have only one."
Muttering a curse, William Shelby sank into the plush velvet beneath him and pulled out the papers in his jacket pocket. Lizzie would thank him later. She thought he was misguiding her, but he was doing this for her own good. Creighton Hall would be a nice summer home; now all he had to do was nab the lord along with the property. He would make a nice husband for his Lizzie. A nice husband, indeed.
Chapter Two
“Lizzie, what are you doing?"
Taking her spectacles off the bridge of her nose, Elizabeth looked up from her dressing table, turned toward her sister, and feigned a smile. No use letting Milli know how miserable she was about her father's demand. "I'm writing a letter, you silly goose. What does it look like I'm doing?"
Milli frowned, plopping on her bed and drowning herself in a heap of silk and damask pillows. A shaft of sunlight illuminated her impish face, and Elizabeth wondered for the thousandth time how they could ever be sisters. Milli was such a fetching little thing.
"Papa loves you, Lizzie. The thing is, he wants a lord in the family so badly, he will do anything to have one."
"I know, dearest. But it is my life, not his." With a tired sigh, Elizabeth switched her gaze back to her letter and raised her spectacles to her eyes once again. She only needed the spectacles for writing and reading, but they were so very ugly, she tried to avoid using them in public.
After signing her name, Elizabeth placed her pen into its holder and stood, hoping Mr. Fennington would respond quickly. She was doing this for Milli, too, she reminded herself. If she married of her own free will, Milli would know she could do the same, whether her suitor was a gentleman of the ton or not. Papa would not be able to lock her sister into a marriage of convenience for the sake of a name or a title, even though he had said otherwise.
"Woe is me. Oh, woe is me," Milli exclaimed, putting a hand to her head, striving for her sister's attention. "I will be forever a spinster—" She stopped and sat up. "Do you know, Lizzie, I believe these pillows smell of vanilla?"
Laughing, Elizabeth walked toward the bed and took Milli's hands in hers, drawing the girl out of the pillows. "Yes, they do smell of vanilla, and now they smell of your lavender bouquet. And you are the silliest girl to tease Papa. He almost had an apoplectic seizure when you sashayed from the room like that."
Milli giggled, twirling about the room. "Oh, Papa reminds me of one of those stuffed antler heads in Lord Pommly's study. You know, all stiff and inflexible."
"And when have you been in Lord Pommly's study?"
"I met his daughter in Bath. We are good friends." Milli's eyes twinkled mischievously. "But do you think Papa knows about my visit to the back stairs of the opera house?"
"Good heavens! I never knew of it until this instant, Millicent. You little minx!"
Milli's face took on the soul of innocence. "I took his mind off you for a bit, did I not?"
Elizabeth caught the wicked gleam in her sister's gaze and chuckled. "I can fight my own battles, dearest. You must not compromise your own situation with Papa."
Milli whacked her hand against a pillow. "But, Lizzie, I do so want you to be happy. Papa likes to have a hold on everything we do, as if we lived in medieval times. It is not quite the thing today, you know. A woman can do many more things than she could have done hundreds of years ago.
"Like what?" Elizabeth asked skeptically.
"Well... like acting!" Milli put on a militant face when Elizabeth's brows rose.
"Yes, I know what you think of that," Milli went on. "And I daresay Papa does care about what we do; however, sometimes he treats me as if I am a four-year-old."
Elizabeth's blue eyes twinkled. Milli did act like a four- year-old sometimes. "And?"
"Well, never mind me, but he means for you to marry a nobleman or at the very least some odious lord, Lizzie. That is the point I am trying to make. You are going to have to do it, you know."
Elizabeth frowned, thinking of her letter. "I am going to marry Mr. Fennington. He loves me."
"You mean that blond-haired gentleman you met at the lending library? The one with that monstrous quizzing glass?"
Elizabeth smiled. "The very one. I have even danced with him at Almack's. Papa is a friend of the patroness, Lady Sefton. Anyway, my gentleman says he loves me. He will do anything to have me."
Milli closed her eyes, a simpering smile upon her lips. "How utterly romantic," she drawled.
No sooner had she uttered those words than her eyes snapped open in horror. "But Papa will not let you marry him. You heard him. Even I could not sway him. He has a plan and that always means trouble, Lizzie. You might be locked away until your wedding like a princess in hiding. What will you do?"
Elizabeth strode back to her writing desk. "I have a plan."
"Goodness, I must know it then. For depend upon it, I have no wish for this to end like Romeo and Juliet. I always believed the lovers should have told someone, at least someone who could have done something other than get them killed."
Elizabeth grinned. "I am not Juliet. And you are not going to do anything. However, I believe it best that you know I am going to elope with Mr. Fennington the night of the Harmstead Ball. It will be an easy feat to accomplish since we will be staying as guests of Lord Harmstead. But if you dare tell Papa, I will never speak to you again."
Milli's eyes widened. "Elope! Well, I certainly will not tell him. He will find out soon enough, I daresay."
Milli swayed slowly toward the bed. "But woe to the man who separates thy daughter from her father's breast. He is like the thief who plucks the rose from the king's garden, stealing into the night, never to be seen again."
Elizabeth smiled and looked thoughtfully out the window where the sun pierced through the clouds, teasing the cool spring day. "I am marrying for you, too, Milli. If Papa marries me to some lord, he might do the same to you. But you must see that you have a choice. Papa means well, but sometimes he becomes misguided. He does things for our own good, as he says."
"Oh, I won't mind if he tries that on me."
Elizabeth spun about. "You won't?"
"No. I am going to run off to the theater. But don't worry. I will write every day. Papa will eventually see that I will not cave into his plans. No more governesses either, and I am certainly not going back to that stupid Seminary for Young Ladies. Many of the girls are all nasty, like Lady Odette."
Elizabeth frowned. Lady Odette, a noted schoolmate from Elizabeth's time at Miss Horatio's Seminary in Bath, would be staying as one of the guests of Lord Harmstead, too. Her father had mentioned that fact in passing.
Odette may have been the most beautiful female at school, and at the balls for that matter, but she was also a spiteful, selfish girl who had contrived to make Elizabeth's life, and that of many of the other girls at the school, terrible.
Elizabeth quickly switched her thoughts away from the memories of Odette's cruelty and back to Milli. "If you run away, dearest, what will you do for money?"
Her sister chewed her lip. "Well, I will have to lie, cheat, and steal to make my way." The girl's eyes glowed with adventure. "Would it not be famous, Lizzie? Me, an actress? Just imagine. Princes from other countries would come to see me."
Something in Milli's words worried Elizabeth. "One day your stories will go too far."
Milli slipped off the bed and marched toward the door. "I daresay you think I have forgotten your stories?"
"What stories?"
"Oh, the ones you told me when I was young. The stories about the knight coming to save you, vowing his love, and sweeping you into his arms." Milli gla
nced over her shoulder, her cool gray gaze daring her sister to deny it. "Those stories."
Elizabeth remembered all too well the stories she told Milli when her sister had awakened in the middle of the night from a bad dream.
Years of warm memories tugged at Elizabeth's heart.
She had been like a mother to Milli. When Milli had been ill with the measles, Elizabeth had come home from the seminary to nurse her. When Milli had fallen off her horse and broken her leg, it was Elizabeth who had sat by her side and kept her company. Elizabeth loved the girl and wanted only the best for her, not foolish dreams that would never come true.
"Being an actress is well and good for some people, but not for you, dearest. My stories were only dreams, Milli." Dead and gone.
Milli's face paled. "Dreams? Ah, yes, I understand now. You can live with the stories in your head, but when I want to act them out, I am scolded for it. I daresay I would rather have dreams than wait for fate to bite me in the—"
"Millicent Harriet!"
Milli's eyes flashed with defiance. "Well, I am still going to dream, Lizzie, and no one is going to stop me, not even you!"
The door slammed closed, the sound of its echo hammering in Elizabeth's ears as she sank into her dressing chair and frowned. Dreams of knights and white horses were fairy tales for little girls, not grown women.
She spread her fingers over her letter and heaved a tired sigh, wishing she could ask her mother what to do. At this point, she was not about to ask her godmother, for Aunt Polly might very well tell her to marry the lord if the man were from a good family. One never knew with Aunt Polly.
For a moment Elizabeth wavered before she folded the letter and sealed it. Mr. Fennington was not a knight in shining armor, but he loved her, and that was all that she needed, was it not?
Stephen's head ached like the very devil. He had been rash and foolish, but a mere loan of twenty thousand pounds should be nothing to his brother, the Duke of Elbourne. Nothing at all.
As he strolled past the library doors of Elbourne Hall, the duke's country estate, Stephen took in the mingled scent of leather and books that reminded him of his youth ... and his father. His stomach went taut at the thought.
The Wagered Bride (The Clearbrooks) Page 2