Without a second thought, Stephen put his hands on Miss Shelby's waist and lifted her from her spot, placing her behind him. She sputtered something incoherent as she stumbled against the tree. He left her flailing in the dark, grateful she could not see him cuff Fennington in the jaw.
The man flipped over the gold embellished trunk and landed on his nose with a resounding thud.
Stephen hovered over him, lowering his voice to a deathly calm. "If you dare ever to come near this lady or her family again, I shan't be giving you a warning. Is that understood?"
Holding his nose, trying to stop the blood from rushing down his face, Fennington nodded.
Behind him, Stephen heard a horrified gasp.
"B-but Mr. Fennington, you are not going?" Miss Shelby's lip trembled and Stephen's stomach knotted at the longing in her voice. "My trunk, the carriage, our plans ..."
"I fear..." Fennington pulled out a handkerchief and held it against his nose which muffled his voice as he backed up toward the wisteria, "dear Ewizabeth, our pwans have changed."
Elizabeth stepped forward and smacked Stephen on the shoulder. "Because of this brute?"
Stephen hardly moved at all, but inwardly his respect for this female was growing by the minute. By Jove, the little thing would probably call him out if she were a man.
Hand still pressed against his nose, Fennington managed a contorted smile as he took a quick glance at Stephen, then returned his attention to Miss Shelby.
"A wady of your dewicate constitution should never... have had to witness ... such depwaved conduct." He rubbed his jaw, his eyes gleaming with reproach as he glanced at Stephen. "A scandaw may suwound you... if I... do not take my weave."
"But you cannot leave!" Elizabeth took a hasty step in Fennington's direction, but Stephen halted her movement by slipping a strong arm about her waist, hauling her back.
To Stephen's surprise, Fennington took that moment to slip in and raise Elizabeth's hand for a farewell kiss. "Good-bye ... my sweet... good-bye."
"Oh, Mr. Fennington," Elizabeth sobbed, "You are too good."
Stephen's hold on Miss Shelby tightened as he watched Fennington depart toward the back of the garden.
Elizabeth heard the towering lord growl something she could not understand and she swallowed another sob as she wrenched free from his hold. "You beast!"
Her heart turned over at the thought of Mr. Fennington's courage. He had left her alone so there would not be a scandal, and hence, this intruder could not smudge her name on the dueling field.
But the man standing next to her looked so smug in his simply tied neckcloth and torn dark jacket, which he had thrown back on, that she wanted to slap him.
He seemed to read her thoughts. "I would not do it if I were you, Miss Shelby." Brown eyes looked into hers with something akin to pity and her cheeks bloomed with color.
Only moments ago, when his hands had rested upon her waist to move her away from Fennington, she had been surprised. He had been gentle, but determined. However, so was she.
"You ... you ruined my life, you fiend!"
His hollow laugh rumbled in her ears. "Ruined your life? This is too rich. Depend upon it, I saved you from a man who only wanted you for your papa's money."
Elizabeth drew in a sharp breath. "How dare you! Mr. Fennington loves me. We will marry; you will see. He has left with his dignity intact." She gave him a swift perusal and snorted. "Which is more than I can say for you."
"Me? By Jupiter, madam. That man is nothing but a thief. He has gone after many an heiress seeking her fortune. Are you daft as well as stupid?"
She tripped back against the tree and held a hand to her bosom. "Why, you insufferable lout. How dare you speak to me as if I were some ... some tavern wench!"
Stephen knew the moment the words were out he could not take them back. Tears pooled in those innocent blue eyes, and he felt a thousand times worse than he had an hour ago. He loved women. Never said an unkind word to one as long as he could remember.
Even when his sister Emily had been in high spirit, he had all but encouraged her manner, vexing Roderick and his brothers Clayton and Marcus to no end. Still, it seemed that this woman irritated him more than she would ever know.
"I beg your pardon, madam." He stepped closer. "I have no reason to besmirch your good name. However, I should point out to you, since no one has already, that Mr. James Theodore Fennington is a cad and a wastrel. Never mind that he is a well-known rake and a voracious gambler."
She clapped her hands to her cheeks. "Oh! You are a horrid, horrid man." She glanced over her shoulder, as if looking for a means of escape. "If you dare touch me again or come any closer, I will scream."
Tears rolled down her face and Stephen instantly felt ashamed. Splaying his hands in the air, he heaved a sigh. "I won't touch you. In fact, I have no desire to touch you."
He shook his head at the sound of her gasp. "That is, we seemed to have gotten off on the wrong foot. Let me introduce myself." He gave a deep bow. "Your servant, Lord Stephen Clearbrook."
A small squeak emerged from the girl's throat, which in seconds became a full bellow of laughter. "My servant? Good gracious, you are my worst nightmare, sir."
Stephen's head snapped to attention and he narrowed his eyes on the female. Was she mad as well as stupid? Irritation flowed through his veins. No woman had ever laughed at him except his sister, and for her he made allowances because she loved him. He stared back in contempt, waiting for Miss Shelby to compose herself.
The look on her face quickly changed back to one of horror.
Exasperated, Stephen tried to soothe her. "I have no reason to touch you, Miss Shelby ... at least not yet."
Wide-eyed, she hastened to her trunk as if the ornate piece of luggage would save her. "Stay away from me."
"I daresay, Miss Elizabeth Shelby, if you are who you say you are, then we have more important matters to discuss than the question of servant and master."
Two delicate brows drew together. "We do, do we? Well, I must say, you are full of surprises today. But believe me, I am in no mood to amuse you any further. I have other matters to attend to. I thank you again for saving me from that fall, but let me remind you, your gentlemanly act does not give you the right to take over my life."
To his continued surprise, the woman turned her back on him and began tugging at her trunk, muttering something about too many gowns. Stephen stood rooted in place and watched in silent amusement. She dragged the trunk about a foot before she was panting heavily.
"And where do you think you are going now?"
She sank onto her trunk and glared at him. "Obviously my plans have changed. But I warn you, your lordship, I may seem meek, but I am not about to sit here and take your insults any longer. If you were a gentleman, you would leave."
A gentleman? The devil of it was, that's precisely what had thrown him into this fix in the first place.
Rising from her seat, she pointed a small white finger at him. He almost laughed, thinking her actions more like his sister's. Emily would adore her.
"Leave me alone. Do you hear me? If you ever dare to interfere in my life again—"
"Interfere in your life? Dear woman, you were the one who came toppling from the sky, throwing me to the ground as if you were an anchor shot from the upstairs window."
Anchor? How apropos, he thought grimly, the realization of the situation slowly penetrating his brain.
At least the female had the grace to flush. "Well, yes," she said meekly, "that was rather unwise of me. I should have waited until everyone had left."
Stephen swallowed a growl of anger. The impudence of the chit. She could have been killed!
"And I do appreciate your saving my life and taking the fall for me, my lord"—her eyes narrowed into slits of rage— "but since you have also ruined my life, I would say we are dead even. So it only signifies that we leave it at that."
Ruined her life? Stephen's lips curled. This was the end of his playing th
e controlled gentleman. "Miss Shelby, dead even will never describe the situation that is between us."
"Us?" she hissed. "There is no us."
He almost felt more sorry for her than he did for himself.
Almost. "I have something I need to say, madam, and whether you like it or not, you must hear it from me first."
Her chin lifted, completely negating any first impression Stephen had of fragility. "Say it and be done," she said in a clipped tone. "I never want to see you again."
A twisted smile flashed across his face. It was clear that this woman would never go along with her father's edicts. As long as he gave the chit his side of things, she would be on his side faster than the Prince Regent could spend a guinea. It was to her benefit that they agreed on a plan.
"Well, Miss Shelby, not seeing me again may be a bit hard to arrange."
"Oh, say what you will and be done with it!"
"Ah, I see you two have already met. Capital! Capital!"
Stephen groaned at the sound of William Shelby's deep voice projecting from the darkness. Within an instant, the portly silhouette emerged from behind the wisteria.
As Shelby came into full view, the man's silent glare bored a hole through any hope of Stephen extricating himself from this unseemly union. Whether his daughter agreed to the marriage or not, Stephen knew without a doubt that Shelby would make certain it went on as planned.
"Papa!"
Elizabeth hurried toward her father, her heart jumping out of her chest. Milli stood beside him, her eyes wide. Did their father know this man?
Elizabeth stiffened suddenly. The trunk? Could her papa see it in the shadows?
Standing beside her father, she tightened her hold on her cloak, trying to hide the rip in her gown. If her father had any idea she was planning a trip to Gretna Green, she would be locked away in the country for a year. Not that her papa didn't love her, but he was as strict as Caesar when it came to disobedience.
"Lizzie, my love. Milli mentioned you were going for a walk to help your headache. But I daresay it is too late for you to be out here alone without an escort, ball or not. I know you were not feeling well, but how fortunate you have met up with Lord Stephen Clearbrook. Has he told you the news?"
Elizabeth's brows furrowed in confusion when the lord purposely moved away from her trunk, removing her father's gaze from the evidence of her elopement. What was this man about now? He was not trying to save her from her father's wrath, was he?
"What news, Papa?" she asked, feeling oddly grateful to Lord Stephen Clearbrook.
"You tell her, your lordship?" William Shelby said, rubbing a hand over his chin as Milli opened her mouth and closed it again.
"No," was the curt reply as the lord crossed his arms over his chest, staring back at Elizabeth.
Elizabeth looked from one man to another, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of her stomach. The icy brittleness hanging in the air had nothing to do with the weather. Murmured voices from the ballroom floated to her ears, a dim reminder of the party still taking place.
William Shelby stared hard at the hovering gentleman, and Lord Stephen glared back at her father.
A rush of blood drummed through Elizabeth's veins. The two had obviously met before and whatever had happened at their last meeting was not finished.
"Tell me what?" she asked hesitantly.
William Shelby's face instantly changed, his frown lifting, only to be replaced by a tight smile. He stepped closer to Lord Stephen and had the effrontery to slap the man on the shoulder as if his lordship were his long lost son.
"Why, Lizzie dear, his lordship here has asked for your hand in marriage. And I have accepted."
Elizabeth felt the world tilt beneath her. "W-what?"
Stephen looked at this woman and for not the first time that evening felt a wave of pity for her. She was as headstrong as a mule, but she had to be or her father would have pushed her along life's path without a thought to what she wanted.
But her stubbornness didn't seem to be working for her now, for William Shelby had decided his daughter's fate as much as the man had decided Stephen's. Well, not precisely. Stephen had done it to himself. This girl was the man's daughter, a circumstance she could never change.
Shelby cleared his throat, slipping a hand between the buttons of his snug waistcoat, his militant stance more like that of Napoleon Bonaparte issuing an order than that of a doting father. "I have accepted, Elizabeth."
Stephen frowned. No woman deserved such a cold introduction to her future, especially one's own daughter.
"I see." Miss Shelby shifted a daring look in Stephen's direction, then turned to Milli. "The spectacles, Milli."
Milli frowned and fished in her pocket for her sister's spectacles, giving them to her. Anger flashed in Miss Shelby's blue eyes as she put on the ugly eyewear.
Stephen felt an instant warming toward the girl. Or was it respect? Dash it, but those spectacles were repulsive, and it seemed she thought to scare him off with them. How many females would try that on an unwanted suitor? Not many.
"Take those silly things off your nose, Lizzie. I won't have you acting like some insipid bluestocking."
Miss Shelby pursed her lips and swiped the spectacles off her face, stuffing them into her cloak. Stephen's amused gaze riveted on the creamy expanse of her neck and followed her hand.
He abruptly put a stop to his wayward thoughts. Thunderation! She was a rich termagant, too tall for his liking, and her father was greed incarnate. It was a blasted nightmare.
"I suppose he is tolerable, Papa," Miss Shelby replied, lifting her head. "He is definitely a muscled sort of brute. Has a good set of teeth. A thick brown-black mane of hair."
Stephen perceived a slight mist forming in the lady's eyes and his gut clenched. She was more sensitive than she let on.
She deserved better. But Stephen was an honorable man. He paid his debts. He would not back out of this arrangement if it killed him. He swallowed, feeling like a boy cornered after stealing from the baker. However, this was more than cakes at stake. This was both their lives.
"Of course, Papa," she continued. "I take it this man has a title worthy of your money, does he not?"
Shelby grunted uncomfortably. "He don't come from livestock, Lizzie. He is the fourth son of a duke. And you will desist with this incorrigible behavior. Do you hear me?"
The lady seemed deaf to her father's command, for she forged on, her lower lip quivering, something William Shelby did not seem to see or want to see.
"Ah, sired from a duke," she said softly. "And the fourth son. My, how honored I am." She batted her eyes and gave Stephen a deep curtsy that made him feel about an inch tall.
She darted a sweet glance toward her father. "I daresay he needed a tidy little sum to get him through life, and he came to you offering himself as a prize for your eldest daughter?"
William's thick lips curled into a real smile. "Well, yes, poppet. It did go something like that."
Dark blue eyes shot toward Stephen. "Then I daresay he will have his money's worth, will he not? You will give my husband a good sum for the use of his lordly title?"
Stephen bit back an oath, wanting to strangle the girl. She was making it sound as if she had been bought. This was ridiculous. But before he could utter a single word on his behalf, William Shelby fell into the trap.
"That's the way of it, Lizzie. I am to provide him with a great sum when you are wed. But perhaps I should leave you two alone for a few minutes."
"But, Papa," Milli interrupted.
"Millicent, go back inside and get your hot chocolate."
Milli gave her father a swift salute. "Certainement, Napoleon." With a sour grimace, the girl disappeared beyond the trees, marching toward the servants' entrance.
Ignoring Milli, William continued, looking toward his eldest daughter. "Knew you had a headache and wanted to clear your mind. A walk will do that, but next time, Lizzie, you must take an escort."
He gave a hea
rty chuckle. "Milli mentioned you were out here alone. Girl does have a vivid imagination though. Never know what's true or not. In fact, I had better leave you two alone and see what havoc she's raising in the kitchen."
He turned toward Stephen. "No need to worry about the announcement. I will send the notice to the Gazette immediately. All Town will be abuzz. You are staying here for the night?"
"I am," Stephen answered, his jaw tight.
"Ah, then, until tomorrow." Shelby bent forward and gave his daughter a peck on the cheek. "See you in the morning, Lizzie."
A sweet concerto filled the air while Stephen and Elizabeth watched in shocked silence as the man disappeared from sight. "How lucky I am." Miss Shelby's quivering voice broke through the stillness. "And you, Lord Stephen Clearbrook, was it not you who mentioned something about a thief? How many heiresses have you sought out?" Her blue eyes glittered with unshed tears—tears she had obviously held back from her father.
An unwelcome blush stole across Stephen's cheeks. "It was not like that at all."
By heaven, he would like to call Shelby out for this.
She gave a laugh that sounded more like a sob. "Ah, I see. But then what makes you believe you are any different than Mr. Fennington? You have no quizzing glass, is that it? Oh no, of course, you are far above such things, are you not? You have no need to use any type of spectacles at all, do you?"
"You have no idea what I need, madam."
"Oh, but you are mistaken. You may have saved me from my father's wrath by keeping him away from my trunk, but if you had not interfered, that trunk and I would have been long gone by now. So, do not tell me I have no idea what you need."
"Indeed," he said, his lips thinning, barely following the thread of her conversation. "What is it that I need, Miss Shelby?"
"Money, my lord. My father’s detestable money."
Chapter Five
Elizabeth paced the length of her father's bedchambers, seething with indignation at the night's folly.
The Wagered Bride (The Clearbrooks) Page 6