It was here where Stephen had seen the last of the man that sired him, here where they had the argument that killed him.
Forcing away his frown, he managed a smile as he crossed the Aubusson carpet and greeted his eldest brother. "Roderick, my dear duke, where is that lovely wife of yours?"
The duke lifted his dark head from the papers on his desk, his mouth splitting into a full-fledged grin. Roderick instantly stood and shook Stephen's hand. "Where the devil have you been? It's been ages since we've seen you! Come. Have a drink. Didn't hear you come in."
Stephen raised a discerning brow. Roderick had always been a bit pompous, even at a score and eight, but it seemed marriage had changed him. His heart lifted considerably as Roderick stepped to the sideboard to pour the brandy. Perhaps this meeting would be fruitful after all.
"Married life becomes you," Stephen said, taking the drink offered him.
"Never thought I would say it. But, yes, it does indeed."
The duke moved back to the desk with a decided spring in his step. Stephen's eyes widened. Jane's doing, no doubt.
"You are staying, then?" the duke asked, taking his seat. "Jane would love to cater to you, for a few days at least. And Mother is visiting as well. Depend upon it, little brother. It will be hard for you not to stay here."
"I would love to stay, but I have a slight problem." Stephen shoved a hand through his brown locks and fell into a chair near the hearth where an orange glow rose from the coals.
For a moment the air sizzled with unanswered questions.
Roderick dropped his tall form into his chair and steepled his fingers near his chin. All the Clearbrook brothers were athletically built, with broad shoulders and long, muscled legs, but Roderick had always been the largest of them all.
"A problem?" the duke asked, concern lacing his tone.
Stephen had never liked asking Roderick for money, and blast it, he didn't like it now. "It's like this, Roderick. Had a bit of bad luck in Town. Nothing to worry about though."
Roderick's face darkened. Now this was the old Roderick. "Bad luck? The only bad luck you have is your stupid head."
The clock in the hall chimed three, and Stephen's head began to throb again.
"What was it this time—piquet?" Roderick's tone hardened.
Stephen groaned. "Yes, but dash it all, I have the funds, only they are tied up in a business venture with Lord Brule."
"Business venture?" Roderick snorted as he sipped his brandy, his piercing gaze never leaving Stephen. "Lord Brule is out of the country. Never mind. How much do you need?"
"About twenty thousand."
The hard lines around the duke's mouth froze as his snifter clanked hard against the table. "Only twenty? My, why not make it an even thirty? What did you do, lose Creighton Hall, too?"
Stephen's eyes flashed, giving away his secret. Not many men could read him like Roderick could, but it had taken the duke years of practice to do it so well, a lifetime, in fact.
Roderick shot from his seat, cursing a blue streak, tearing apart Stephen's character as if he were shredding a paper doll.
As the yelling began to subside, Roderick paced behind his desk. "Confound it! I mentioned Creighton Hall in jest."
He paused, his gaze drilling into Stephen like a fiery cannon ball shot at close range. "You have been quite the idiot upon several occasions, little brother, but hell and thunderation, Mother's childhood home? How could you?"
Stephen glared at his brother. "Forgive me for taking up your time," he said sharply as he rose.
He turned to leave when the door opened, and Jane entered, looking like an angel with her fair hair and baby blue eyes.
"Good day to you, Duchess," he said, his lips curving upward for he was not able to frown at the loveliness before him.
A warm smile broke out on Jane's face as she ran to Stephen, throwing her arms about him. "You heartbreaker! How long have you been here? How long can you stay?" The scent of rosewater lingered about the beauty.
"Roderick, you should have told me your brother was here."
Roderick fisted his hands at his sides, glaring at Stephen. "He won't be staying, sweetheart. He has a prior engagement."
She turned back to Stephen. "Is that true?"
Trying to avoid a confrontation, Stephen took Jane's hands in his and stepped back, smiling. "But how wonderful you look. You must have taken Paris by storm."
Jane's blue eyes danced. "You are ever the flatterer, Stephen. Now, please, say you are staying."
Stephen saw the curl of his brother's lip and released Jane's hands. "Forgive me, Duchess. But I have already made plans. I will be taking my leave within the hour."
Jane frowned. "But you will visit us in Town? Soon?"
"Of course. Must greet Mother before I depart, so if you will excuse me." He brought her hands to his lips, kissed them, bowed, and started for the door.
"Stephen," the duke ground out.
Stephen glanced up. He had asked Roderick for a favor, but by heaven, he would not beg. "What is it, your mighty dukeness?"
As the youngest of the four brothers, Stephen seemed to annoy Roderick the most, especially with his dry humor.
Roderick regarded his wife. "We have unfinished business, sweetheart. If you would please close the door on your way out."
Blue eyes snapped. "Are you dismissing me, Your Grace?"
Roderick raised his right brow at his wife's defiance, a gesture Stephen was all too familiar with. He had always wondered how the new duchess would take Roderick's overbearing, self-righteous attitude after she had lived with him for a while.
Stephen turned around, taking Jane's hand back in his, using his utmost charm. "You'd best leave, Duchess. It seems Roderick has a few choice words he would like to say to me."
Jane's bosom swelled as she glared at her husband. "Well, I believe I heard a few of those words, and I am ashamed of you."
Roderick's eyes rounded. "This is between Stephen and me. It is not for a lady's ears."
"How dare you speak to me as if I were a ... a peabrain."
"I am your husband, a fact perchance you have forgotten."
"And I thought I was your wife, a fact you seemed to have forgotten entirely."
"Not entirely," he drawled, his gaze moving lazily over her person, "but as my wife you will do as I say."
"Whatever gave you that silly notion?" Jane uttered.
Stephen thought the entire scenario hilarious until Jane took a menacing step toward Roderick, blocking Stephen from the duke's glare. Stephen frowned. Shame heated his blood as he realized that he had sunk very low indeed if he needed to have a lady defend his honor, and his brother's wife at that.
"Jane," Stephen said hoarsely, "please leave, dearest. I know you mean well, but this is truly between Roderick and me.
The lady gave Stephen a tremulous smile. "If you wish. But please promise me you will not be a stranger. You must stay with us in London when you come to Town. Those apartments you have are not quite the thing. The food is no good at all."
Stephen kissed her hand. "Your servant, madam."
Roderick let out a low growl as soon as his wife departed. "How dare you use Jane for your own interests."
Stephen's jaw hardened as he turned toward his brother. "I would never use a woman to defend me, and you know it."
Roderick's eyes challenged him. "Do I?"
"There is nothing more to be said. Good day, Your Grace."
"I will never give you another guinea to be thrown away on gaming. Do you understand me? Your gambling and drinking have gone far enough. You are a disgrace to the Elbourne name."
A muscle ticked in Stephen's jaw. "Devil take it, if you were not my brother, I would call you out."
"Do not let that stop you. But pray, have you considered Lady Odette's reaction to your loss of Creighton Hall? If you think she will marry you now, you are very much mistaken. That prime piece of land backs up to her father's. To whom did you lose it? Tell me, so I may
buy it back. Mother need never know."
Stephen's expression grew dark as the memory of the card game drummed in his brain. "I am only telling you because I know you will find out by other means. Shelby holds the papers."
Roderick let out a low whistle. "William Shelby? That rich cit who made his money in spices?"
Stephen grimaced. "The very one, but if you dare take one step in that direction, I will tell Jane of your dalliance with that opera singer. Arabella, was it not?"
"That... that was years ago," the duke stammered.
"But you know women. I mean what I say. Stay out of this."
With Roderick sputtering about the injustice of younger siblings, Stephen glanced over his shoulder for the last word. "And forget I ever asked you for a thing. Because if you think I will ever come begging for a loan again, I will die first."
Slamming the library door, Stephen strode down the hall. He would gain back Creighton Hall if it killed him. He would never hurt his mother. And then there was Lady Odette
"Stephen."
He spun on his heels. "Mother?"
The lady stood before him dressed in a gown of blue sapphire, her arms holding her fluffy white feline Egypt against her shoulder. "Were you going to leave without saying hello?"
Stephen came forward and kissed his mother's cheek. "I confess it was not well done of me, was it? Where is Bringston?"
Stephen's mother had recently married Lord Bringston, a man who had loved the duchess from afar for years. Though Stephen's father, the duke, had been dead for almost four years, Stephen could still recall the pain his mother had endured at the notion of the duke loving another in the course of their marriage.
His father's death had plagued Stephen every day the past four years. Stephen had argued with the duke minutes before the man had taken that fatal fall from his horse. The quarrel had dwelled on the manner in which the duke had treated his wife.
Stephen had asked the duke why he had even married his mother. The man's anger had escalated to monumental proportions as he told his youngest son that his heart had always belonged to another, and Stephen had no right to interfere in his life or his mother's. In that moment, Stephen vowed to marry for love.
His mother let out a sigh of delight at the mention of her new husband. "Alas, my love is visiting his estates the next few weeks and I decided to help Jane acclimate to Elbourne Hall. However, duty will soon return me to Town to be with Emily."
Emily was Stephen's younger sister, and in a month or so she would be having his mother's first grandchild. Emily had finally married Lord Stonebridge, a suitor once rejected by the duke.
His mother's smile soon turned to a frown as she shifted her cat in her arms. "You know, Egypt is getting ever so heavy lately. Don't know what's come over her."
Stephen gave the mewing feline a knowing look but prevented himself from saying anything more. Letting out the secret that the cat was going to have kittens in the near future would put the house in an uproar—something Jane did not need at the moment.
"I wanted to tell you," his mother went on, "I will be visiting Creighton Hall when my dear husband returns." Her eyes softened with emotion. "I intend to show him the tree I played on when I was small. The swing is still there, is it not?"
Stephen pulled at his cravat. "Creighton Hall?"
"Rope must be frayed to pieces by now," his mother sighed.
"Indeed," he muttered. "Frayed to everlasting hell."
"What was that?"
"It will be swinging like a bell, Mother. I will spend my last farthing on that swing. See if I don't."
She kissed his cheek. "Don't go to too much trouble now."
"It's no trouble, Mother." The light in his mother's eyes sank his spirits to a new low. "No trouble at all."
Chapter Three
While most of the guests were settling into their chambers at Harmstead Hall, Elizabeth was on a mission to acquire a rope long enough to lower her trunk from her chamber window to the ground below.
It was early afternoon and a crisp cool wind blew across the courtyard as she hurried to the stables. She lifted her face to the cloudless blue sky and hoped the weather would stay fair, for tonight she would elope.
A niggling doubt pinched her heart at the thought of hurting her father and making a bigger mistake than he would with her life, but she had to do this. She would not marry some lord who only wanted her for her money. She would not.
"My lord, someone will see us."
Elizabeth stopped outside the stable, recognizing the sensual female voice immediately. Lady Odette—of all people!
Smells of horses and hay filled Elizabeth's nostrils as she peeked through the crack beneath the hinge in the stable door. Her eyes widened in shock at the sight of a tall gentleman with his arms wrapped tightly around Lady Odette's curvaceous figure.
"One little kiss, Dettie," he pleaded with a hint of amusement lacing his voice.
Dettie? The odd silkiness of the man's tone sent Elizabeth's face flaming with embarrassment. Yet she stood frozen, watching as the man leaned toward Odette and pressed his lips to hers.
Odette giggled, pushing the hair from the man's face where dark coffee-colored locks curled boyishly at the nape of his neck. "Stephen, you odious man."
The man's hearty laugh echoed in Elizabeth's ear and shot straight to her stomach. Even from this view, she could see that he was extremely handsome.
And for some insane reason, whether it was the musical sound of his voice or the sudden stab of jealousy in her own heart, Elizabeth fervently wished that the man would know Lady Odette for what she was before it was too late.
She hadn't seen Odette since leaving the seminary two years ago and hoped never to see the loathsome creature again. But Stephen looked as besotted as a little boy receiving his first pony.
Elizabeth couldn't take her eyes off him. Long muscular legs filled a pair of buckskin breeches as he stood back and studied Odette in amused silence. He crossed his arms over his wide chest, pulling his deep brown jacket tight against his shoulders. But it was when he grinned, baring a set of beautiful white teeth, that Elizabeth's heart stopped.
This was no mere boy. This male specimen was a man of power and determination.
Putting a hand to her mouth, Elizabeth stumbled back not wanting to see this supreme male make such a fool of himself. Odette could lure a man into a lion's den if she wanted to.
Elizabeth knew she should leave, but this would be her only chance to snatch the rope the groom had told her would be hanging beyond the door.
She hurried around the back of the stables, her mind trying to block out the mumbled conversation inside.
When the voices finally ceased and she heard footsteps heading away from the stables, thinking all was clear, she peeked in the back door and made her way inside, stepping tightly about the hay. Still hovering in the shadows, she eyed the rope hanging in the shaft of the sun's rays directly beyond the door—exactly where the groom had said it would be. Her heart lifted. Then, without warning, a strong arm grabbed her and whirled her around, hauling her up against a hard chest.
"Back so soon?"
Shocked, Elizabeth found herself speechless as she was pulled further into the shadows. It was Odette's suitor! Her heart hammered wildly as she fought to maintain a calmness she didn't feel. Did he know about her elopement?
"Nothing to say, little one? Coming back for another kiss?"
Before she knew it, warm lips pressed against hers. She pushed her hands frantically against the muscled chest that held her. The scent of bayberry assaulted her nose, making her all too aware of the man holding her. Little one? Was he making fun of her height and girth? She may take an extra roll at breakfast, but this man had no right to speak to her that way.
"Unhand me, sir!"
With a jerk, he drew her into the dappled sunlight and immediately dropped his hands. "I thought you were ... never mind."
The truth of the situation finally hit her like a fireball to
her face. He thought her Odette!
"I beg your pardon, Miss—"
Elizabeth's lips thinned as dark brown eyes laughed back at her. Why, the man was not sorry in the least. He was enjoying her humiliation! The cad!
Ignoring him, she skirted his tall frame and grabbed the rope that hung on the wall.
"Do you need help carrying that?" the voice said dryly. "Ah, you are going to string me up for a little kiss, then?"
Elizabeth spun around, her eyes flashing. Something in the carefree way this man stood there sent her hackles rising. He was a peer of the realm—the enemy—one of many her father would love her to marry.
"That was a kiss?" she said, lifting her chin. "I've enjoyed a lick from a horse better than that kiss."
A horse neighed in one of the nearby stalls. The man's eyes suddenly darkened to a foreboding black. Elizabeth felt as if she had waved a red flag in front of a bull. She managed a feeble smile, backing up toward the open door.
"You have, have you?" He took a step toward her, his powerful form sending a distinct warning to her brain.
She pressed the rope to her gown and backed up slowly. "Yes, well... if you had not—"
Before she could finish, she tripped over her feet and went sprawling to the ground with a thud.
The man stood over her, his eyes alight with laughter. "Best take care where you walk with a rope, little one. Never know where it might lead you."
Little one! Elizabeth pulled the rope back to her side and glared up at him in stony silence.
"Ah, the silent treatment, eh? I have a sister and know all about that. Won't work on me, I assure you."
In one swift move, his hand whipped out and he gently pulled her to a standing position. She came within an inch of him and her heart stumbled. She could only attribute her sudden reaction to the bayberry soap he had used this morning. Yet perhaps it was the independent streak in this man that captivated her. It was unquestionably something.
Holding her breath, she stepped away. He let her.
The Wagered Bride (The Clearbrooks) Page 3