Though she dare not put on her spectacles, she pulled the note closer and quickly scanned his words. He was going to see her soon. Her heart fluttered like a butterfly in spring. He truly did love her.
"A love note, Miss Shelby?"
Elizabeth jumped at the sound of the silky whisper sliding along her back. "No," she said curtly. "It's a note from my long lost aunt."
The man's lips thinned, a sign she should have recognized immediately, because the next thing she knew, he was escorting her into the hall toward a small alcove behind the stairs.
The remaining guests in the breakfast room smiled as if they knew the couple needed to be alone. All except Mr. William Shelby whose worried eyes were pinned on his daughter.
"I forbid you to meet with that man," Lord Stephen replied. His breath was hot against her cheek as he cornered her against the wall. "Is that understood, Miss Shelby?"
So, he knew what was in the note, did he? His face was within an inch of hers and her heart pounded with the challenge of defying him. There was something boyish about his expression that made him seem less dangerous than he tried to appear. In fact, at the moment she would have thought him extremely appealing if it were not for him telling her what to do.
"Oh, you forbid me, do you?" She shot him a withering stare. Good gracious, she was feeling quite dizzy.
Taut lips stretched across a perfectly chiseled chin. "If you dare go against my wishes, you won't like it at all."
Elizabeth had the audacity to laugh, shaking her head, causing tendrils of soft wheat-colored hair to fall about her face. She knew she had probably had too much champagne, but she really didn't care. He was a beast with thoughts only for himself. Her knight in shining armor was Mr. Fennington, who loved her for what she was, not her father's money.
Stephen stared in amazement at the woman before him. The girl was half drunk. With those dancing blue eyes, rosy cheeks, and her disarrayed hair, she looked beguiling. The thought unnerved him especially when he peered over his shoulder at the sound of clapping heels coming their way.
Lord Githers and Mr. Blundly had stopped and were now staring at Miss Shelby as if she were a prize for the hunt. In fact, they seemed to notice the same thing Stephen had. Miss Shelby was enchanting, and she didn't even know it.
A giggle escaped her lips and Stephen stiffened.
Blundly lifted his brow. "Quite a catch, is she not?" Interested dark eyes traveled along Elizabeth's person. "Well done, my lord. Well done indeed!"
Stephen wanted to yank the man by his cravat, but he didn't need a scandal. Instead he gave the men his iciest glare and they spun on their heels, back down the hall.
"You need a cup of tea, Elizabeth. Come sit down."
She was still giggling as they reentered the breakfast room. Stephen kept a smile in place, though beneath his cool demeanor he fought against the insane notion of throwing the confounded female into the nearest lake.
Her reaction to drinking was uncanny. His sister was like that. One glass of wine, and she was a bowl full of jelly. It would do him well to remember that fact, he thought as he swallowed hard, feeling her soft body swaying against his.
He caught a whiff of fine French perfume. He shifted uncomfortably, taking in the creamy whiteness of Miss Shelby's swanlike throat. What the deuce was wrong with him?
When he woke this morning he thought he was in love with Odette, and now he was becoming quite fond of a blue-eyed, sharp-tongued, crazy woman who only yesterday had dropped from the sky to meet her lover.
He took a seat near the bay window, away from the crowd. "I'm going to get you a cup of tea," he said abruptly. "Wait right here."
"I'd like a doll... a doll of cream," she said with a hiccup.
He smiled. "A dollop of cream?"
She frowned. "That's what I said."
He was back in a minute with her tea, but stopped short when he noted Odette in conversation with Miss Shelby.
"Elizabeth, dear, you must let me congratulate you on your catch. You have come a long way from Miss Horatio's Seminary, have you not? Of course, with your papa's money, you probably could have set your cap for the Duke of Elbourne himself... if he were not married, that is."
All color left Elizabeth's face. Stephen was oddly disappointed when she did not give Lady Odette her due.
"But then I hear the duke has no need for money and is set up quite nicely. Quite nicely, indeed. Now, Lord Stephen is another matter, is he not? But I do believe your father's money might even set him up higher than his brother."
The last remark seemed to make Elizabeth's hands tremble. Stephen felt a fierce roar in his belly at the way Lady Odette was babbling on about William Shelby's finances and Elizabeth.
It was obvious the conversation had filtered to some other parts of the room as well. William Shelby's eldest daughter sat in mortification, too choked to speak. Stephen realized that the champagne had mangled her brain or she would have had her wits about her and given the entire room something to talk about.
"Of course, many people have a marriage of convenience and things have a habit of working out," Odette went on, softly patting Elizabeth's shoulder in a pitying manner.
At that precise moment Odette tilted her head in Stephen's direction. Whether she had known he was standing there or not, she had taken advantage of the situation to humiliate Elizabeth even more.
"Money is good for some things, Miss Shelby," she said, her chin lifting, along with her skirts, "but it cannot make a princess out of a bluestocking."
A female titter from the corner of the room sent up a gasp of disapproval from one of the ancient dowagers. But it didn't signify. The damage had been done.
Stephen glared at Odette as the harpy stepped aside to speak with a nearby earl. The little witch! Thank goodness he had never asked the chit to marry him.
Concealing the anger boiling beneath his skin, Stephen strolled forward and handed Elizabeth her tea. For the first time in the last twenty-four hours he was glad Shelby had whipped him at cards. He would rather have an honest female like Elizabeth Shelby at his side than a two-faced shrew.
Stephen watched as Elizabeth's face became a ghostly white and her breath came out in little pants of distress. Would she swoon and give Odette's cutting remarks more power than they had? If she did, this incident would become the Season's on-dit.
Honor demanded he do something quick. But one thing he decided there and then was that this would be the last time she sipped champagne in the presence of anybody but himself!
With an easy grace, he leaned over and took hold of Miss Shelby's hand. "Ah, my love, you must ready yourself for the journey to London. I cannot bear to be without your company and have asked your father if your family would do me the honor of becoming the guests of the duke and my family at the Elbourne townhouse."
The cessation of voices allowed the sound of forks clanking against plates to echo throughout the room, followed by dead silence.
Inwardly cursing, Stephen was more aware than ever that everyone in the breakfast salon had been paying attention to the scene between Lady Odette and Miss Shelby.
Smiling like a besotted lover, he kissed his betrothed's hand. "My love, perhaps you should return to your chambers and rest before the journey."
Lady Odette's emerald eyes narrowed into slits as she turned on her heels and left. Elizabeth's blue gaze widened. She managed a smile as Stephen escorted her back to her father.
After a few minutes of polite conversation, Stephen made his excuses, bowed, and departed from the room. He stopped short when he found Milli waiting for him down the hall.
Huge gray eyes locked onto his face. "I do believe I'm beginning to like you, you know,” she said. “But do not try to best me with your acting ... or Lizzie, your lordship. She's not stupid."
Stephen's mouth dropped open in surprise at the girl's frank assessment of his conduct in the breakfast room. Before he could say anything in his defense, the little elf turned, gave him a saucy wink over
her shoulder, and hurried upstairs.
Chapter Six
Elizabeth stood gazing out the window of Lord Harmstead’s library, blinking against the afternoon sky. Her head hurt as though someone had taken a hammer to it. The champagne had been too much, too quick—and so had Lord Stephen Clearbrook.
"Did you see what he did at breakfast, Papa?" She turned to her father. "Did you? He acted as if... as if he loved me.”
Elizabeth was both furious and touched at Lord Stephen Clearbrook's behavior this morning. She could very well see how he had saved Wellington's life. The man was no coward.
That point was proved when he acted the hero this morning, saving her from an embarrassing scene. Although making that ludicrous announcement was akin to professing his love for her, the two of them were definitely not a love match.
Yet she couldn't deny the spark of warmth that had swept through her when he pressed his lips lightly to her hand. She would not think about that. Nor would she think about the way his eyes had devoured her with such tenderness that she wanted to cry.
No, she didn't want to think of him having any heart at all. She wanted him to be a callous man whom she could distance herself from. Even heroes were callous at times.
But he had not been callous, her heart whispered.
Whether he pitied her or not, he was a fiend with feelings, she told herself. Feelings that could charm a woman into a rake's lair with one blink of his devastating smile.
However, she would not be Lord Stephen's woman. Why, when he had pulled her into the hall after she received that note from Mr. Fennington, the circumstance had not affected her at all!
Oh, maybe she had enjoyed his nearness a tad more than she would admit. But who wouldn't? Those chocolate brown eyes had probably swept many a lady off her feet. Yet she was no simpering female and even heroes had their flaws. She would never forget the fact he only wanted to marry her for money.
"He is a gentleman, Lizzie. Knew that the moment I clapped eyes on the fellow."
Elizabeth stared at her father, her mind working furiously to extricate herself from this absurd situation. "Of course he's a gentleman; he's the son of a duke."
"But that ain't precisely what I meant. You must see that honor is as much a part of Lord Stephen Clearbrook as breathing. It's a code the man lives by. All the men in the Elbourne family live by it. His three brothers are very highly thought of, my dear. You should be pleased to be marrying into such a family."
There was a bit of reproach in his tone, and Elizabeth tried to mentally count to ten. Honor? Forget about the man's past. What kind of honor was it when a man married a woman for her father's money?
This conversation was getting her nowhere.
"Well, if you ask me," Milli piped in from across the room where she sat on a leather chair, swinging her slippers over the rug, "I believe his lordship would die for Lizzie if he had to. Now, that would be real love, would it not?"
"Millicent, please do not tell me that you are falling for the man's charms," Elizabeth said, pinching the bridge of her nose. This was the outside of enough.
"Oh, but I like him regardless," her sister said, jumping off the chair. "An hour ago I saw him in the hall, and he gave me a sack of candy, whether I became his sister-in-law or not."
Elizabeth groaned. The charms of this rake were never ending.
"He may be handsome, Lizzie, but he's not the smartest man on earth," Milli added thoughtfully. "He treats me as if I were only twelve. Can you believe that? I will be fifteen next month."
"Fifteen?" William Shelby replied with a frown.
Elizabeth was surprised at Milli's defense of the handsome lord. Though Milli was smaller than girls her age, she made up in spirit for what she lacked in height. Brown locks coiled about her face and down her back in a childlike innocence that made most people think she was younger than she was. No wonder Lord Stephen had given her candy.
"See, Papa," Elizabeth said with a hopeful edge to her voice. "The man cannot be serious about wanting to marry me if he made that comment to Milli about her possibly not being his sister-in-law."
William Shelby lifted a bushy brow. "Depend upon it. His lordship is very serious. Do not shame him or me by insisting on breaking this engagement. The announcement has been sent to the papers. As a gentleman of breeding, he ain't one to rescind his offer and I will not let you reject it."
Elizabeth felt her frustration rising. She could not marry the man. He would never love her. Lord Stephen Clearbrook would have his flirts in London like many gentlemen of the ton, and as this morning had proved, the man could charm a flea.
Besides, if the man continued his obnoxiously nice behavior, she could very well learn to like him and would that not put her in a precarious situation?
Elizabeth scrambled for anything that could thwart this marriage. "But what if after a time, he does not want me ... and he asks me to break the engagement?"
William Shelby smiled. "Want you? How could he not want you, my dear?"
He wants Lady Odette, that's why. He would never look twice at me if I were not an heiress.
How such a war hero could suggest a marriage between Elizabeth and himself was a puzzle to her, but then again, men were so different from women, nothing surprised her anymore.
Her heart gave a little twist of regret at her monetary circumstances. She would never be certain about anything because of the money attached to her name.
"But it's obvious he wants your money, Papa, not me."
Shelby stuffed a hand inside his waistcoat pocket. "And who with any brains would not want my money, poppet. But rest assured, the man wants you, too. All is well. Now run along with your sister and see to your packing. It seems we are going to be the guests of the duke while we are in Town."
Milli twirled about the room like a ballerina. "Goodness gracious, I have never met a duke. Is he as handsome as Lord Stephen?"
Elizabeth gritted her teeth. No one was as handsome as Lord Stephen Clearbrook, she decided, but that was beside the point. She had to make her plans. First, she must post a letter to Mr. Fennington telling him of her lodgings while in London, then she would ready herself for the journey to the duke's home.
As soon as her father and Milli left the library, she asked one of the servants for paper and pen. It would do no good to write her missive in her bedchamber. There was no telling what Milli would convey to her father, let alone what the abigail would pass on to William Shelby, since he paid the girl's wages.
After Lord Harmstead's servant opened the writing desk in the corner of the room and set Elizabeth up with what she needed, she took her leave. Alone now, Elizabeth slipped on her spectacles and sighed as she dipped the pen into the ink and pressed the point of the quill to the paper. She had just finished signing her name when the door opened.
"Hard at work, Miss Shelby?"
The deep baritone voice slammed into her ears like an icy polar wind. She jumped from her chair, almost turning over the inkwell. "Er, you ... you surprised me."
"Evidently." Lord Stephen's sharp gaze swung to the letter on the desk. "An avid writer as well as a traveler, I see."
She hurriedly stood in front of the desk, hiding the evidence. "I may be the daughter of a businessman, my lord, but I assure you, I have been educated in all things. I speak three different languages, I draw, I play the pianoforte and the harp, and I know well how to sit a horse."
"So I have heard." His brown eyes glinted with amusement. "You are well educated in the English language as well, I see. Have you any other attributes I should know about?"
Warm brown eyes traveled from her face to the tip of her slippers and back again.
A blush swept across her cheeks and she cleared her throat, swiping the spectacles off her nose. "As you must know, my lord, I find this situation intolerable."
He cocked a dark brow at her candid remark. "And pray tell me, Miss Shelby, do you always speak your mind?"
He strode toward her, his cool gaze locking on
the desk.
She moved a bit more, trying to block his view. "Well, not always, my lord."
She watched in horror as his long limbs quickly ate up the distance between them. Her heart beat faster. Good heavens. He looked like a determined tiger treading through the jungle.
He stopped and tilted his head to the writing desk behind her, his lips curling into a wry smile. "So, Miss Shelby, who is to be the recipient of your wonderful pen?"
Distinctly recalling his words about her having no contact with Mr. Fennington, she swallowed past the lump in her throat and managed a smile. "A sick friend."
He pursed his lips, moving within a hair's breadth of her. He smelled of shaving soap and fine leather, very male scents that were starting to annoy her because they did silly things to her stomach.
"A sick friend?" he repeated. "How very noble of you."
He snaked his hand around her and when she realized his intent, she spun about and snatched the letter off the desk, but not before he caught a piece of it too.
The letter ripped in half.
"Look what you did!" Her cry of protest covered the relief she felt at holding the top half of the letter with Fennington's name on it.
He glared at his half of the letter. "Yours forever... Elizabeth?"
The words were pushed through locked teeth. Elizabeth gulped. To lie or not to lie, that was the question.
"Miss Shelby." He planted his very large hands on top of the desk and glared at her. "I have given you fair warning, have I not?"
She took a hesitant step away from his formidable form. "We are not married. And lord or not, I take no orders from you."
He seemed to have trouble speaking.
Finally, after wiping a stiff hand over his face, he took a deep breath and crumpled his half of the letter in his fist, stuffing the remnants of the missive into the palm of her hand.
"Have you no brains at all? Mr. Fennington is a thief and a rake. He will probably never marry you. His plans are to blackmail your father into buying him off." His lips thinned when he realized that his fingers were still touching hers.
The Wagered Bride (The Clearbrooks) Page 8