Stepping back, he slipped his hand into his coat pocket. "You may depend upon it. He will ruin your good name in the process. Is that what you want?"
Elizabeth gasped in outrage. "Of course not. What you say is not true!" Her hands shook with fury as she balled the two halves of the letter in her hand.
"It is true, madam. Every hellish word of it."
"How dare you use that tone of voice with me. You ... you liar. You, sir, are no gentleman."
His eyes flashed. "He chased after my sister one hour before her marriage. He even tried to kidnap her with plans of taking her to the border. Believe my words or not, it doesn't change the fact that the man is a weasel, unfit to marry any lady, rich or poor."
Elizabeth felt the slap to her heart as if he had physically given her the blow himself. This man was lying. "I do not believe you." Her knees felt wobbly. She sank onto the writing chair beside her and held back tears of frustration, not daring to let this man know how much he affected her.
He stood back, crossing his arms against his chest, his dark eyes pinning her to the seat. "Oh, believe me, Miss Shelby, it is all true."
Even with that aristocratic glare, she was intensely conscious of the man, but she would never tell him that.
His jacket fit him as if he were royalty. His neckcloth was folded in simple lines, as if he had not a care in the world and cared even less about what the world thought of him. His breeches fit him to perfection, accentuating his powerfully muscled form. And his confidence vexed her to no end.
Was there nothing that irked him, besides her? Even his manner this morning, to save her from an embarrassing scene, was perfection itself. But she was not of his caliber. Even Fennington had that stupid quizzing glass. And she her spectacles. They were made for each other.
"You will not contact Mr. Fennington, is that clear?"
Her eyes were cold as she gathered her strength and rose from the chair. "No."
He unfolded his arms and came toward her. "No?"
She skirted the chair, pushing it in front of her. Well, what did she expect? He had demanded instant obedience and she had flung her defiance in his face. He did have his pride, but confound him, so did she. "I said no."
He took another warning step toward her. Not knowing what made her do it, she picked up the pen in the inkwell and pointed it at him. "Not another step, I tell you."
He laughed at her then, as if she were nothing more than a stupid little rich girl spoiled by her father's money. He reminded her of Lady Odette. Odette always laughed at her, too.
The girl would spread falsehoods about her father, whisper about Elizabeth's ugly face and the spectacles she wore, toy with her self-esteem, and tell her she was nothing without her father’s money—just as she had at breakfast. Odette called her homely, with no prospects for the future—no prospects except marriage to an old man with a title who would have a host of gambling debts a mile long.
And now this man was laughing at her, too.
Elizabeth pushed down the bile creeping up her throat. She would not be laughed at. Mr. Fennington never laughed at her.
"Will you spear my heart with that pen, Miss Shelby?"
"You have no heart, my lord, or you would never have broken mine."
He frowned then, his gaze softening. But she had no wish for his pity.
"You have a smudge of ink on your nose," he said, half- smiling.
Oh, the injustice of having such a handsome face. It was not fair. Not fair at all. Fury almost choked her from saying anything more, but she did.
"And ... and you are too clean, my lord!"
With a jerk of her wrist, she flipped a spray of ink his way, splattering that all too perfect white shirt and cravat as if they had been trampled on the battlefield.
His eyes rounded in shock, for it looked as though he had been shot at point-blank range.
With a muffled groan, she ran for the door.
"Why, you little spitfire," he shouted, taking a step in her direction. The next moment he stopped abruptly and looked down at his chest, his lips curving into a full-fledged smile.
And then he did the most outrageous thing. He laughed.
An hour later Stephen stood inside the library, rubbing a finger over the ink stain on the writing desk. He had already changed his shirt and had delivered Lord Harmstead his apologies for his clumsiness, offering to pay for the damages. Harmstead would not hear of it.
"Afternoon, my lord."
Stephen looked up as William Shelby walked into the room. "Shelby," he said dryly.
It was all Stephen could do not to give the man the facer he deserved. Did Shelby think once of his daughter's pain? Did the man think he could make her love Stephen just because he was a lord? Hell's teeth, it was an intolerable way to treat a lady.
Barely able to stop from grinding his teeth, Stephen waited patiently for the discussion that was to come. The man stuffed his hand into his waistcoat pocket and closed the door with a satisfied smile.
Stephen was instantly reminded of Cook fattening up the goose before the kill on Christmas morning. The conversation moved quickly from the weather to Elizabeth's future.
"Now, as I see it, my lord, wooing my little Lizzie through the Season is out. It ain't that I don't want her to have a bit of fun, but it don't signify since you made your feelings known in the breakfast room."
Grinning, Shelby exposed a set of crooked yellow teeth, giving the appearance of a man quite proud of catching a lord for his daughter. "You must see that by now everyone believes that this is a love match. It don't matter if it isn't, just that everyone believes it. Better this way, you know."
Trying to ignore the man's pompous speech, Stephen stared at the ink staining his two fingernails. He felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he vividly recalled a pair of fiery blue eyes. So he was too clean, was he?
"But I must make one thing clear, my lord. You must never let Elizabeth know I traded her for a debt you owed. Women get these fanciful thoughts, don't you know."
Stephen looked up from his fingers. "Fanciful thoughts?"
The man shifted uncomfortably. "She believes you sought her out for my money, of course."
"Now, let me see if I have this straight," Stephen said, his gaze flat and unreadable. "You want your daughter to believe I needed funds so badly that I sought to wed her and procure your money in the process."
Shelby's eyes lit with approval. "Yes, yes, precisely. Thought we already agreed upon that."
"However, I am not to tell her I lost at the gaming table with you, and that you, the wonderful loving father that you are, fobbed her off on me."
Stephen was grateful to see that at least Shelby's cheeks had pinkened. What kind of father was this man? Elizabeth certainly deserved better and so did little Milli.
Stephen's protective instincts took over again. "Listen here, Shelby, I don't like being a party to manipulation. Why not tell your daughter the truth? That I lost at a game of cards and you offered her as a way to release me from debt. It isn't as if she doesn't know you want a titled son-in-law."
Shelby grimaced. "Are you mad? If I tell her I wagered her on a debt owed to me, there's no telling what she would do. The girl's as impulsive as Napoleon entering Russia."
Stephen had to admit she was that. And if he told Shelby's daughter the truth, perhaps he could sway things his way. However, honor demanded he pay his debt, and telling Miss Shelby the truth would hurt her deeply. Though Stephen didn't love the girl, he was not an ogre. Her father had done enough damage in that department.
Hurting a female to gain one's independence was something a weasel would do—someone like Fennington. Two orbs of baby blue came to Stephen's mind and he frowned at their innocence. The thought of Fennington running away with Elizabeth Shelby chewed at Stephen's conscience like a dog to a bone. "You can still stop this insane wedding, Shelby. Call it off."
"No, your lordship. Ain’t going to do that. Already sent the announcements."
> "Announcements can be rescinded."
"The fact of the matter is, I have no wish to see it done, and you owe me a good sum."
Stephen's temper flared. "I can have that money in a week and you know it. Would you cast your daughter into a fire where she would get burned? Because that's exactly what you are doing! I certainly don't love her. And she certainly doesn't love me."
She loves another, he thought grimly.
"Love will come," Shelby said, pulling out a cigar and tapping it against his palm.
Stephen let out a snort of disgust. "You're mad. She wants nothing to do with me."
The portly man paused, then tilted his head back as though he were looking at Stephen for the first time. "If I didn't know better, I would say you cared for my girl."
Stephen glowered at the man. "I care for most human beings, Shelby." Most, but not all, including that despicable Fennington character your stubborn daughter believes she is in love with.
"Then this should be most advantageous to you, I believe. In exchange for my daughter, I will relieve you of all your outstanding debts. And don't forget, I am returning Creighton Hall to you. An added bonus, don't you think?"
"How convenient for you, sir, that I have a few measly debts you can pay. What a doting father-in-law."
The man flushed as if he were being complimented. "We will get along nicely, my lord. Uh, Stephen. May I call you by your Christian name, seeing that we are to be family?"
No, he wanted to shout. We are not going to be family or friends.
"I realize you must not bother your brother, the duke, about your debts, seeing as they can cause families such trouble. So I decided to take it upon myself since you are to be my son-in-law. I ain't one to shrug off my duty. I informed Harmstead I would be sending him a new desk within the week."
That comment drew Stephen's attention. "You what?"
"I'm sending the man a new desk within the week. You should be more careful with your writing instruments, my lord."
Stephen wanted to knock the man's smiling eyes out of his blasted head.
"Oh, did I forget to mention that after you are married, you will have a new townhouse as well? One in St. James. No need to thank me. Father's duty and what not." The man puffed out his chest. "I will reside next door to continue my services on your behalf. Don't want my grandchildren to go without, you know."
"Your grandchildren? Do you believe I will not be able to fend for my own children, sir?"
Shelby's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Oh, oh. No need to get fussy about it. I ain't one to allow my family to suffer. We can keep the money under our hats, you know."
Stephen wanted to pick the man up and throw him out the window. And by Jove, in his wilder days he might have done just that. But in those days he was always approaching his father or his brother Roderick with a bill or two. He had stopped applying to his family for money when his father had died. Except, he thought with a scowl, for last week with Roderick.
He had finally decided to take control of his own life and stop depending on his family to extricate him from unseemly situations. That was the precise reason he had gone into the business venture with Brule.
Stephen clasped his hands behind his back. "You, sir, may see me marry your daughter. You may bestow upon both of us your blessing. And you may return Creighton Hall to the bosom of my family. But fiend seize it, as to other favors, you will curtail your flow of money my way. Is that clear?"
The man raised a chubby hand to his neck and pulled at his cravat, surveying Stephen with an approving eye. "Indeed, my lord. Knew you were a man with a spine. That's what my little poppet needs. A little bending of her will and she will be fine. Of course, a mere present of something on her birthday or the birth of a grandchild isn't charity, you know. I do hope I will be able to offer my monetary services. And of course, there is the dowry." He raised a proud brow.
"The dowry?" Stephen spat out, his jaw stiffening with rage. "How very convenient."
Without another word, he spun on his heels, barely able to control his fury. Any father who would give away his daughter to a stranger was half out of his mind.
"But where are you going, my lord? We have not set the date for the wedding or considered the other matters we need to attend to."
Stephen stopped and glared at the closed door. There would be no wedding if it were up to him. If he had known that this pompous idiot was to be his father-in-law, he would never have had a drink in his life.
"We will pack and depart tomorrow," the man went on. "If that is soon enough."
Stephen whirled around. "Soon enough for what?"
"You have invited my family to the Elbourne townhouse, my lord. Have you forgotten?"
The devil. Yes, he had forgotten. Roderick would spear him alive. "No, of course not. I am departing today to ready things." For my new maddening family, he thought with a grimace. Jupiter and Zeus, this entire week was incredible.
"Capital, my lord. We will not be late. Depend upon it."
Stephen resisted slamming the door behind him as he departed from the room. He ordered his horse to be ready in one hour for the ride back to London to inform his family of his upcoming nuptials. Ha! Would they not be surprised?
He climbed the stairs to his chambers and paused when he saw a train of maids departing from one of the bedchambers. He winced as high-pitched screams burst from beyond the door.
"My face! My arms! Oh, what is happening to me? I look like a squished strawberry. And it itches! Every part of my person itches! Gracious, you peagoose, get me something! Anything! Now!"
To his astonishment, Millicent Shelby came running from the room, her breath coming out in little gasps, her face pale.
Stephen took hold of her shoulders and frowned. "What the deuce is going on in there?"
Milli swallowed, her eyes bugging out of their sockets. "It's Lady Odette."
"I know very well who it is, but what has happened?"
Milli pulled away. "Why, do you love her or something?"
Stephen's lips twitched. "You are too young to ask such a question."
"But my skin! Look at it! Doooooo something!" Odette's squeal continued to rise in pitch. "Father said you had a way of healing even the sickest of animals. Do something before I burst!"
"Take this, Odette. It will make you feel so much better."
The sound of Elizabeth's husky voice floated out the door, sending Stephen's head snapping up. His glance swung back to Milli's guilty expression. "Well?"
Milli shrugged, looking at the floor. "I did not think she was very allergic, you know. Besides"—Milli raised her head, lowering her voice—"she is such an odious creature anyway."
Her eyes smiled appreciatively. "Odious Odette. That does have a certain ring to it, does it not? Who would think cherries would do such a thing to the human body?"
Milli turned to leave, but not before Stephen grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. "You minx. You gave Lady Odette cherries and she reacted quite violently, is that it?"
"I, uh, added a little juice to her hot chocolate."
"But she ate breakfast with us this morning."
"The chocolate was sent up later to her room. She reacted to the cherries most horridly, but how was I supposed to know that?"
A glint of amusement flashed in Milli's gray eyes, and Stephen stared back at her, speechless.
"You see, my lord, Odette's skin has taken on a rather mottled look. Her throat is swollen and her eyes as well. But Lizzie will care for her, as always."
"Lizzie?"
"Yes, but you must not tell a soul about the cherry juice. My father will lock me in my room for a month."
And rightly so, Stephen thought grimly. "What is your sister doing in there? Can they not send for a doctor?"
"A doctor? Lizzie is far better than any of those bloodletters. She will care for Lady Odette, but I can tell you it is beyond my comprehension why."
Though Stephen's feelings for Odette had been lost compl
etely the moment he had seen her true character, Stephen could not condone what Milli had done.
"A stunt like that could have killed her," he said sharply. "Why did you do such a terrible thing?"
Milli tilted her head back to look him straight in the eye. "I know I was wrong, but she made Elizabeth cry, and if you dare make Elizabeth cry, I will do something more horrid to you. Like ... like poisonous mushrooms!"
"You will, will you?”
"Yes, I most certainly will."
He blinked. Well, at least Elizabeth had one person to defend her.
"Milli, is that you outside that door? For heaven's sake, stop dawdling and fetch me some of that lotion from the housekeeper."
The door eased opened and Stephen came face to face with Elizabeth. Her hair was flying every which way as she held her spectacles to her breast. "My lord!"
His respect grew for this woman every minute he was with her. "I was wondering if I might be of some help," he said. "The lady sounds as if she is dying."
Milli let out a snort behind him.
"She is not dying, my lord. It seems you have been taken in by my sister's theatrics again." Ignoring him, she urged her sister down the hall. "The lotion and be quick."
The door started to close and another squeal hit both their ears. "Elizabeth! Hurry! There is another bump bursting out on my elbow as we speak."
"I am coming, Odette. Do not scream. It will only make things worse."
Stephen stood immobilized as the door shut in his face. What kind of woman was this? She was taking care of the one person who had hurt her, and now she acted as if it had never happened. And ... she had literally shut the blasted door in his face.
Though his admiration and respect for her had heightened, he knew that it would never do to marry the girl. Their union would be a complete and utter failure.
Marriages of convenience usually were failures unless there were some hard and fast rules in the union. A mistress. A turned eye. A series of parties and balls which neither attended with the other. Oh, he knew some couples who lived like that and thought it grand. But deep down, he knew they were only fooling themselves, like his own father and mother had done.
The Wagered Bride (The Clearbrooks) Page 9