The Wagered Bride (The Clearbrooks)

by McCarthy, Teresa

  Before she could finish, he pushed his lips onto hers. "You will never be free of me, Elizabeth Shelby. How do you think your lord will feel when he discovers you have been meeting with your long lost lover?"

  The crunch of gravel sounded behind her, followed by a low, familiar voice. "I would think the man would not be favorable to the idea, would you, Miss Shelby?”

  Elizabeth spun around and gasped in horror as Stephen's towering silhouette appeared before them. He took another step into the moonlight and the tautness of his face was quite clear. Disgust glimmered in his eyes as he tilted his head toward the ballroom. "Return to your engagement ball, Miss Shelby."

  "It... well, this is not what it seems."

  His black brows narrowed. "To the ballroom, Miss Shelby. Or need I carry you back?"

  She clenched her teeth, trying to stem the flow of tears.

  Avoiding the gazes of both men, she walked toward the music, her eyes barely able to see where she was going.

  A few seconds after Elizabeth slipped into the ballroom, she was stopped by Lady Bringston. "Elizabeth, dear, have you been introduced to the Duke of Wellington?"

  Elizabeth looked up, startled to see the war hero standing beside her. "Forgive me, Your Grace. I have been busy with the other guests."

  She blushed as the man took his hand in hers. "Miss Shelby, delighted to meet you. And there is nothing to forgive. My congratulations on your upcoming marriage." He gave her a wink and leaned forward. "Hope you won't forbid your gentleman to play cards with me now and then? Not like some of those wives I hear about?"

  Forbid Stephen to play cards? She could never forbid Stephen anything. The idea was ludicrous. Almost as ludicrous as a knight in shining armor coming to her rescue. Besides, she would never be his wife, so what did it matter?

  She laughed, displaying a merriment she did not feel.

  But inside, she was numb to the world. Hot tears bubbled up her throat.

  She had made such a fool of herself. She hoped Stephen did not hate her. Perhaps she could explain. But would he believe her? Could she ever win back his trust?

  "You will regret this," Fennington said, reeling back and holding his nose.

  Stephen was almost enjoying himself. If it were not for the sight of Fennington kissing his intended, a facer to Fennington's idiotic quizzing glass and what was behind it would have made his day. "You dare come within twenty feet of Miss Shelby and I will hang you by your nails. Do you understand me?"

  Fennington wiped his bloody nose with his sleeve. "She loves me, you know. How do you intend to stop that? Beat the girl?"

  Did Elizabeth still pine over this idiotic fool? "Are you waiting for another blow to your head, Fennington? Or will you be on your way?"

  Fennington ground his teeth and picked up his quizzing glass. "You think yourself better than I, do you? You think you deserve Shelby's money more than me?"

  He gave a muffled laugh. "Why, you are just like the rest of us. Ain't no difference. Money is money. No two ways about it. You sold your soul. But she won't love you, just remember that. Those were my lips she tasted last, not yours."

  "One more word and I will kill you." Stephen's voice was dangerously low. "You are lucky to get off with your nose still attached. But never fear, this is not finished."

  Fennington opened his mouth, then shut it. Stephen didn't wait. Anger took hold where his patience left off. He took the man by his pants and flung him across a pair of thorny rosebushes. Fennington rolled over them, groaning as he scrambled onto his hands and knees, hastening toward the back exit.

  Stephen watched in silence as the man climbed over the garden wall and disappeared into the night.

  Sold his soul. The words echoed in the hollow crevices of Stephen's entire being. When he had seen Elizabeth in Fennington's arms, he had been ready to kill the man.

  Had she been lying to him all along?

  He stalked back to the ballroom, intending to seek her out and finish this once and for all. He gave a start when he saw Wellington as her dance partner.

  "Your eyes are about to fall out of their sockets, little brother," Roderick said, strolling in from the gardens.

  Stephen scowled. "I suppose you heard everything?"

  Roderick's smile never reached his eyes. "I say we haul the man off to America. Send him as an indentured servant or something to that effect."

  "It sounds as if you hate Fennington more than I do. But America won't do. It will have to be Australia."

  Roderick glanced across the dance floor. "He almost took away our sister, and now he's after your bride. Could I dislike the man more than I do?"

  Stephen's eyes glittered from beneath the crystal chandeliers as he watched Wellington take the honor of escorting Elizabeth into the supper room. Thunderation, he could not very well push the war hero aside. "No, but I aim to have him pressed into service with His Majesty's Navy." He turned a grim countenance toward his brother as they made toward the exit to supper. "What say you to that?"

  Roderick raised a calculating brow. "Done."

  Stephen was about to enter into the specifics when he detected Lady Odette coming his way. "Who the devil invited her?"

  Roderick looked up and frowned. "Mother, I suppose."

  "Hell's teeth. You escort her into supper then. I cannot very well do it at my engagement ball. But drat it all, Wellington has Elizabeth on his arm, engagement or not."

  Roderick shook his head. "This is your problem, not mine. Besides, I see my sweet duchess trying to attract my attention. Duty calls. Must go."

  "Coward."

  Roderick smiled over his shoulder. "Been called worse, you know." He smiled. "By my darling wife, no less. It would not do to make her wait. No telling what she will call me then."

  "I'll call you something before the night is out," Stephen said between his teeth a second before Lady Odette and her father approached.

  Elizabeth watched over the rim of her wineglass as her fiancé spoke with Lady Odette—at their engagement supper, no less! Obviously the lady had fully recovered from her cherry incident. At that moment Elizabeth wished she had a bowl full of cherries to push down the lady's throat. The thought instantly horrified her. What was happening to her?

  "He's as angry as Napoleon when the man lost the war."

  Elizabeth glanced up to find Lord Marcus hovering over her, his eyes alight with mischief as he spoke about his brother.

  Wellington had excused himself to take part in a conversation about the Peninsular Wars with some of the eager gentlemen who had served beneath him but had never made his acquaintance.

  Elizabeth had been honored when England's hero had taken her to supper. Yet she had seen the teasing sparkle in his eyes. The man seemed to be waiting for her fiancé's next move, and he laughed when he saw Stephen stiffen. Wellington thought the reaction jealousy. Elizabeth knew otherwise.

  "Anger is not what I would wish for in a future husband," she said to Marcus.

  Stephen's brother shrugged, picking up a plate of peas and ham. "He is to be married. That would anger any man if he did not want it."

  "I see," she said tightly.

  "Do you?" Marcus peered over his shoulder and smiled. "Don't be too hard on him. He believes in love from both sides. He saw what happened in my parents' marriage. My father gave my mother every convenience. The only thing lacking was love."

  "Your parents entered into a marriage of convenience?"

  "In a way." He glanced affectionately toward his mother. "My mother loved my father, but the love was never returned. You see, he had always loved another."

  Elizabeth frowned. And she had loved Mr. Fennington, or thought she had. That had been her biggest mistake. And now Stephen thought she still loved the fool.

  Marcus set his plate down and took Elizabeth's free hand in his. "You must be patient. He will come around."

  Her heart stumbled. Come around to what? Love? Trust? She slipped her hand from Marcus's gentle grip, angry at herself for thinking
such things, and doubly angry at herself for falling in love with his handsome brother.

  "You must forgive me, but I have a horrid headache. I will return as soon as possible."

  Before Marcus could speak, she hastened from his side in search of the exit, knowing very well she could not leave for the entire night. She spent a half hour in her chambers, wishing she could start the evening over.

  After returning to the ballroom, she managed to keep a smile on her face as she made the acquaintance of many of the guests, avoiding Stephen and his cool assessing gaze.

  No one seemed to notice the tension between the engaged couple, no one except the Clearbrook brothers, who were eyeing Stephen with contempt.

  She finally made it to her bedchamber two hours later without speaking to Stephen again and fought back the tears. Could she ever convince Stephen they could escape his parents' fate? Probably not. Could he ever love her after the last incident with Fennington? She didn't know.

  Her life was spinning out of control, and if her father did not come back soon, she was going to go mad.

  She would speak to her papa. Tell him how miserable the situation was. He loved her. He had always wanted the best for her. This wedding could not take place as things stood now. It could not.

  Chapter Twelve

  Impossible! You will marry Lord Stephen Clearbrook and that is final!" William Shelby wiped a crumpled handkerchief across his forehead and lowered his voice. "Lizzie, don't be stubborn. The arrangements have been made."

  Elizabeth took an agitated turn about her father's spacious bedchamber at the Elbourne townhouse. Her life was shattering into a million pieces and he was doing nothing about it.

  William Shelby had returned from Portsmouth the day after the engagement ball. It was almost impossible to change his mind, but it was her life that was hanging in the balance ... and her broken heart.

  "But, Papa, I do not love him."

  She wondered if she truly knew what love was. She had not loved Mr. Fennington and thought she had. And Stephen believed she still did.

  "Fustian, child. Love will come in time."

  "But he loves another!" There. It was out. Lord Stephen Clearbrook loved Lady Odette.

  "Posh! Don't believe it. Anyway, if you do not love him, then why care if he loves another?"

  She wanted to stamp her foot. "But I want to marry for love. You of all people should know about love, Papa. You loved Mama."

  He slowly shook his head and turned away.

  Elizabeth went to him, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Oh, Papa. I don't know what came over me. I did not mean to bring Mother into our conversation. Please forgive me."

  He gently took her hand and guided her toward a green-striped wing chair. "Sit down, Lizzie. It's time you heard this from my lips before you hear it from another."

  Elizabeth regarded his pale face with a hint of alarm. "What? What is it?"

  "Now, poppet, I don't know how to say this without hurting you, but you must not think less of your mother," he pulled nervously at his neckcloth, "or, I hope, of me."

  Anxiety spurted through her veins. "What?"

  He sat down opposite her, his hands hanging between his knees, the handkerchief pulled taut. "It's like this, Lizzie..."

  He avoided her gaze, staring absently across the room, wetting his lips. "When I was married to your mother, I had a friend on the other side of town."

  "A friend?" After a tense pause, she rose swiftly from her seat, knowing what was coming next. No, her father loved her mother! He did! This was not possible!

  "Enough, Papa. I do not want to hear this."

  "Sit down, child. This is as hard on me as it is on you."

  She raised a fist to her mouth. "Mother is dead. Let me have my memory of her without you disgracing it."

  "Her name was Philomena."

  No, her heart cried. It wasn't true.

  "Philomena? What kind of name is that?" she replied in a mocking tone.

  "Philomena was your mother, Lizzie."

  Elizabeth felt as if the earth had shaken violently beneath her feet and she was falling where there was no bottom.

  "Wh-what are you saying?"

  "Your real mother died giving birth to you. I brought the babe to Sarah after you were born. Sarah loved you like her very own. Sarah's name is even on the papers as your mother."

  But Sarah was her mother! That was the only mother she had ever known. Not Philomena! No! Eyes blurry with tears, Elizabeth backed up, tripping over her feet.

  "Lizzie, please."

  She gave a haunting laugh. "And you want me to marry some stranger? How do I know you are my real father?"

  William Shelby seemed stricken and it was a moment before he could speak. "I will not answer that, Lizzie. But you will marry Lord Stephen Clearbrook. I promised your mother I would take care of you. I am doing this for you. Your best interest is what I am concerned with here. I ain't going to see you marry some wastrel."

  Elizabeth clasped her hands tightly together. "Oh, this is grand. You would marry me off to some man who wants nothing but my money, and in return, your soul is saved. How wonderful for you. Your good deed is done."

  "Lizzie, that ain't how it is at all. You don't understand."

  "Don't I? I believe I do, Father. You never loved me. You loved only a dream of a woman that died years ago."

  He took a step toward her. "None of what you say is true. I wanted you to marry a lord because Philomena begged me to marry you well. I chose Lord Stephen Clearbrook because he is one of the very best men in England, and I wanted the best for you, poppet. Don't you see?"

  She raised her hand to ward him off. "Milli?" she asked warily.

  "Milli is Sarah's daughter."

  Elizabeth's heart felt ripped from her chest. "I see." No wonder Milli looked so different.

  Silent tears streamed down Elizabeth's cheeks, and before William Shelby could say another word, she bolted from the room and ran down the hall, slamming directly into a solid chest of muscle.

  "Elizabeth." Stephen's voice startled her as much as her collision. "What's happened?" He grabbed hold of her shoulder, his face softening with concern.

  "Nothing." She gazed over his shoulder. He didn't love her either. Why should she care? "I forgot to tell you, I'm leaving as soon as it is feasible to find other accommodations."

  His hands dropped to his sides, his stance rigid. "Fennington has left and should not be seen again. So douse those flames of desire, my dear. You won't be going anywhere with him. We are still engaged."

  Fury filled her. Fury at her father. Fury at Mr. Fennington. And fury at this man for not trusting her. She lifted her gaze, her eyes smoldering with contempt. "You are not my husband, my lord."

  "No, but you still have obligations," he said stiffly. "You don't have much time. Get dressed. We are to attend Wellington's soiree tonight."

  "We are not going anywhere, my lord."

  "Yes, we are. You have exactly one hour."

  "How dare you give me orders." She turned from him, heading toward the stairs to her room.

  "Elizabeth?"

  She didn't stop her progress.

  "You will be ready."

  His command vexed her to no end. If she packed fast enough and had Milli's help, she could be away from this place before her hour was up. But then again, maybe she could show him that she was immune to him and those spellbinding charms.

  They had just left Wellington's soiree. Stephen watched the odd play of emotions on his fiancée's face as she turned her head toward the carriage window. She was not speaking to him now. In fact, she had spoken but ten words to him all night.

  He had to admit he was amazed she was going to follow through with her plan to leave the duke's home because she felt she had overstayed her welcome. Ha! As if he believed that.

  He was not about to declare himself and bare his soul, but he would die before he let her run away with Fennington, even if she thought she loved the idiotic man. Besides, he
thought smugly, Fennington was probably at sea by now.

  "Your father did not love your mother, did he?" she asked.

  Elizabeth's words took Stephen by surprise. Something flashed in her eyes. Dread? Pain? Regret?

  "No. Why do you ask?"

  She shrugged and glanced back out the window. "My mother died when I was born."

  The information startled him. He could smell the touch of sweet perfume she had dabbed along her neckline, and he tried to rein in his senses, controlling the urge to sweep her in his arms and kiss her. "I did not realize your father married twice."

  Her back seemed to tense. "My father did not marry twice. He married only once and that was to Milli's mother, not mine."

  The implication of her words hit Stephen like a splash of ice water.

  She turned, as if daring him to comment: "Does that surprise you? I thought it would. It did surprise me this morning when my father finally decided to tell me. He told me that Sarah, the lady who raised me and is the mother on my papers ..."—she gave a cold laugh—"well, it seems her father was a baronet. I am from some kind of peerage after all. But in truth, I am not. Imagine that."

  Stephen said nothing as he watched her try to hide the pain. Dash it all. William Shelby was a fool twice over. To withhold the information from his daughter and then to trade her to any man without her consent was intolerable.

  "You probably will think twice about the offer you made my father," she said softly, staring down at her hands. "The gossip would be unforgivable if anyone discovered the truth."

  Stephen cared nothing about the gossip. What he did care for was the woman beside him. Was she telling him the truth or did she want him to call off the engagement? "You believe this information would sever our wedding plans?"

  She let out a deep, shuddering sigh. "You must not wish this marriage now. Perhaps my father will settle upon you a good sum for your troubles and we can part amicably."

  He detected the noted strain in her voice as the clatter of horses' hooves pounded along the street. Did she love Fennington so much to play this hand with him?

  A lonely teardrop slid down her face, and he raised a finger, wiping it from her cheek. "I would never hurt you."