The Wagered Bride (The Clearbrooks)

by McCarthy, Teresa

Stephen did not give her a chance to answer before he stifled her words with a kiss.

  As the carriage rolled to Aunt Polly's, Milli sat as mute as her kitten, her mouth tight and curled upward, staring at Elizabeth as if her sister were the goddess of love.

  "What are you staring at?" Elizabeth snapped, the memory of that kiss still making her bones weak.

  Milli looked at her papa, then Elizabeth again. "I was wondering if he loves you, too."

  " 'Course he does," William Shelby said.

  "Oh, Papa," Elizabeth sighed, finally giving way to the grief that had taken hold of her since she had met Lord Stephen. He only wanted her money. And his charms would get him everything he wanted. "How could you say such a thing?"

  She barely held onto a sob before she broke forth in a river of tears.

  Milli glared at her father. "That was terrible."

  William Shelby blushed. "What? What did I say?"

  Polly Crimmons was a slender, fifty-year-old, no-nonsense type of lady who did not take lightly to the engagement of her goddaughter to a man who did not love her. "You do not want to marry this lord, Elizabeth. That point is obvious."

  "He does not love me." Elizabeth sipped her tea, the lump in her throat growing larger every minute she stayed away from that pair of charming brown eyes. But it had to be done.

  Polly tilted her head to study her godchild.

  The lady's flamboyant gown of pink fitted her personality as much as the salon they were sitting in. The walls were painted gold with black stripes. Red velvet curtains framed the window. Plush settees of deep brown and purple filled the room in a style more suitable for an Arabian princess than an English spinster.

  Elizabeth stared into her cup. "He gambles, Aunt Polly."

  "Ah, a gamester, is he? How many men do not gamble today? Even your father gambles. The lout."

  Elizabeth chewed her bottom lip, wishing things were different. As soon as they had arrived at Tavton Hall, William Shelby had taken Milli to Leicester Square for an ice—anything not to be within ten feet of Elizabeth's godmother, who had been a friend to his wife Sarah. The lady was not truly their aunt by blood, but that was all Elizabeth had ever known her as.

  Elizabeth's pained gaze shifted back to her aunt. "Papa is adamant about this engagement. You have seen the announcement in the papers. Lord Stephen has the special license. He told me he will be visiting me every day until we are married. There is nothing I can do."

  Polly rang for the maid. "My dear, there is always a choice to be made. Always something you can do."

  A squeezing pain claimed Elizabeth's heart when she thought of jilting Stephen. But if anyone could help her out of this predicament, it was her godmother. She should have gone to her sooner instead of thinking she could foil her father's plans by herself.

  "Then you will help me disappear," she said softly. "Your cottage in the country would be perfect. Once I am there, I will send word to Papa that I refuse to marry his lordship and the engagement will be dissolved."

  And she would never see Stephen again. She had tried to make that clear to him.

  The maid appeared in the doorway. Polly asked for her carriage to be sent around, then set her gaze back on Elizabeth. "You wish to run, then? You are afraid of this mighty lord?" Her godmother's eyes narrowed. "He is a ruffian?"

  Elizabeth stiffened. "No!"

  A twinkling light appeared in her aunt's eyes. "An ugly scoundrel? So ugly you had to claim I was sick to visit me?"

  "Certainly not. He is most handsome."

  "Ah, a bounder and a rake?"

  "No," Elizabeth said defensively. "Too charming at times, but certainly not a rake."

  Her godmother sighed. "Ah, you love him then?"

  Elizabeth fell silent, her gaze dropping to the floor. Tears filled her throat. "I love him so much it hurts."

  "Then you must leave him. You cannot marry a man who does not love you. It is an intolerable situation."

  The bitterness in the lady's voice surprised Elizabeth. "He will have a string of mistresses. A pile of debts. Night upon night of drunken routs. By all the king's men, it is too much, Elizabeth! I fear the knave will pick apart your life like a vulture, stealing away the very soul of your being until your heart cannot stand it anymore."

  Elizabeth curled her hands into a fist. "You don't know him! He would never treat me as you say! Never!"

  Before Elizabeth could vindicate Stephen, the butler came into the room. "The carriage is waiting, madam."

  "Very well." Polly took one last sip of her tea.

  Elizabeth's hand trembled as she placed her teacup back onto the table. The determined expression on her aunt's face did not bode well. Suddenly she did not think it such a grand idea that she had come running to her aunt. "Where are you going?"

  "I am going to find that father of yours and make him withdraw your engagement. See if I don't."

  "But Papa will be here tonight."

  Polly narrowed her eyes. "I know your father. He is planning his departure as we speak. He will drop Millicent off and take his leave to who knows where. Then where will you be?"

  Elizabeth paled, remembering how her father had left her at the duke's home. "He will not leave me." But she knew her aunt was telling the truth.

  "Did he stay with you at the Elbourne townhouse?"

  Elizabeth reddened and shook her head. "Not all the time."

  Polly's face became a cloud of anger. "That man." The lady marched toward the hall. "Never fear, my dear. I will see that he does right by you. You will not marry that despicable lord if I have to ship you off to America to save you!"

  Elizabeth followed on her heels. "Wait!"

  Polly spun around.

  A sob escaped Elizabeth's throat and she clutched a hand to her mouth. "Please do not call on Papa. He means well. You know he does. And I do not want to go to America. Oh, this is such a mess, Aunt Polly. I do not know what to do."

  Polly gave the maid her cloak. "My dear, you know I would never do anything to hurt you. I won't go after your father if you don't want me to. At least, not yet. Now, let's get you back into the drawing room and you can tell your Aunt Polly everything—including the entire story about that hideous Mr. Fennington. I declare if that man dares to come sniffing around here, I will have him shot on sight."

  Elizabeth looked up, shocked.

  Polly smiled as she closed the doors to the drawing room and led Elizabeth to the sofa. "My dear, you must know by now, Millicent cannot keep a secret. In fact, I believe she gained some of those theatrical notions from me."

  "That little gabster."

  Polly poured another cup of tea and chuckled. "Yes. Sometimes I wonder what other information that little imp has up her sleeve."

  "Papa, may I have another ice?"

  "No." William Shelby wiped the sweat from his brow and heaved a tired sigh. He was too old to be running around hiding from his eldest daughter.

  "But Papa, I would like another one."

  "No means no, Millicent."

  Milli frowned. "You never pay attention to me. You only want Elizabeth to have the best things. Why, you even won her a husband. When I am old like her, I want you to buy me a prince. Of course," she huffed, "we have only a few more years and I daresay I might be dead by then."

  Shelby blinked. "What did you say?"

  "I said I might be dead by then. Apoplexy, typhoid, influenza. Good gracious, Papa, it's disheartening to think about. Death and destruction! It's abominably cruel!"

  The shop grew quiet and heads snapped up to stare.

  William's face reddened at his daughter's outburst. "Millicent, please hold your tongue."

  "But Papa, everybody dies sometime."

  William pulled at his cravat and stood, taking his daughter by the arm and escorting her out the door.

  "Papa, my ice!"

  "We will come back another time. Now, come along, Millicent."

  Milli dug in her heels as he dragged her toward the coach. "You love Elizabe
th more! You would never make her leave half of her ice on the table!"

  A nearby couple turned to gawk at the father and daughter.

  William narrowed his eyes at Milli. "Get in that carriage and don't say another word. One would think you were eight years old. See here, my girl, I should have sent you back to Bath the minute you showed up at the door unannounced."

  Milli looked furious. "I didn't like it there," she hissed, climbing into the carriage. "And the governesses you hire are all horrid too."

  The creases about William Shelby's face deepened as he took his seat beside his daughter. "Now, what is this about me winning a husband for Elizabeth?"

  Milli folded her arms across her chest and pinched her lips into a mutinous line, refusing to speak.

  "Millicent, I refuse to play these games."

  Milli shrugged.

  "All desserts will be put away when it comes to your dinner if you do not answer me. By Jove, I will forbid you to attend any plays or lectures for the next three years."

  Milli dropped her hands to her sides and glared at him. "You made his lordship marry Elizabeth. There!"

  William's brow furrowed as the sound of carriage wheels clattered along the cobblestone streets. "Poppycock! Where did you hear such a notion?"

  "I have very good ears, Papa. And when I put them to a door, I can hear everything. Well, almost everything."

  "What door?"

  "Why, the duke's door. Of course, I thought I would hear nothing, for you would think a duke would have better doors in his townhouse. I could not hear everything before we left, but I heard enough to know that you made Lord Stephen pay his debt by marrying Elizabeth. You wanted a titled son-in-law and in effect obtained a handsome lord for Elizabeth." Her eyes glittered romantically. "It would make a grand play, Papa."

  William's face lost all color.

  "You see, Papa, I would never have thought of such a dastardly plot. Not that I condone it, but if the story included a secret agent of some sort, it would—"

  "Millicent!"

  She closed her mouth and stared at him.

  "Are you telling me you were eavesdropping on the duke?"

  She nodded.

  William pulled out his handkerchief to wipe his face. "Did you say anything about this to your sister?"

  "No."

  "Good."

  "Then, will you trick a prince into marrying me, Papa?"

  "Not another word about this. Do you hear me?"

  Milli sat back against the seat with a pout. "I hear you."

  "Very good. Your sister will be married as soon as it can be arranged and she need not know anything about this conversation. Understand me, girl."

  Milli's lips thinned.

  "Yes, well," William Shelby said, glancing out the window. "The only problem will be your Aunt Polly. Listen here, Milli, I'm dropping you off at Tavton Hall. I am hoping to see his lordship at the club, and this entire mess about Elizabeth postponing the wedding will be ironed out in no time."

  "But she does not want to many him, Papa. She thinks he does not love her. Maybe you should not have done what you did."

  "Don't matter."

  "Yes, it does. The more I think of it, the more I see that Lizzie should have a choice!"

  "Sometimes it is better to listen to your parents, my girl, and not make such a fuss over the little things."

  "Oh, forgive me. I should not have questioned you."

  William closed his eyes and sighed. "A father knows best about these things, Milli. You will see."

  Milli glared out the window. "Yes, I see everything now."

  Late the following morning, Stephen made his way to the kitchen, hatbox in hand. "I would like to have one of Egypt's kittens, Mother. That one there, off to the side."

  Lady Bringston looked up from her kneeling position. "I'll not have you getting into mischief with my babies."

  Stephen rolled his eyes. "What do you take me for?"

  The lady lifted a haughty brow. "You let that wonderful girl leave here. I doubt her aunt is ill. Something happened and I have no idea what you might do next."

  He stiffened. "I am going to marry Miss Shelby."

  His mother stood, holding the requested kitten in her hand. "If you do not woo that precious girl, all is lost for you. I am hoping she will still come to our soiree this week."

  "Why is it that everyone believes I should woo my fiancée?" Stephen was definitely going to have a word with Roderick. "I am going to give the kitten to Elizabeth, Mother. Are you willing to part with it?"

  The lady smiled, handing him the kitten. "Now, that is wooing, my boy. Remember, Pharaoh will need a lot of attention."

  "Pharaoh, is it?"

  "Yes. Then there is Cleopatra, who has been given to Milli, and you know King Tutankhamen. I have yet to name the other two."

  Tutankhamen had been given to Stephen's nephew, Richard, for a christening present, though the babe could not play with the tiny kitten until both of them were bigger. Emily had been touched.

  His mother returned to the kittens. "At least I know that with Elizabeth, Pharaoh will be in fine hands."

  Stephen let out a twisted smile. Oh, to be a kitten.

  Chapter Fourteen

  He had come.

  Lifting her chin, Elizabeth dragged her hand along the banister, slowly making her way down the stairs with her aunt by her side. The strains of a concerto rose to her ears and she stopped short just outside the drawing room. Stephen was seated at the pianoforte, his slender fingers running up and down the keys as if he were Mozart himself.

  He was so beautiful her heart ached. His dark head was bowed and his eyes were closed. He did not seem to notice her or Aunt Polly as they entered the room.

  "My lord." Aunt Polly interrupted the musical dream and Elizabeth felt her bubble burst.

  Stephen stood immediately. The light in his eyes dwindled. "Forgive me. I found myself drawn to the keys."

  Elizabeth regarded him with a thoughtful gaze. How many other things had he hidden about himself? "You play wonderfully."

  Deep brown eyes met hers. "Thank you. A compliment from you is a compliment indeed."

  The intimacy of his glance caused her to look away.

  "Tea?" Aunt Polly broke the spell, showing him to a seat on the sofa. Elizabeth moved to a wing chair opposite him.

  As the refreshments were served, Stephen peered up at her, his gaze flickering with amusement. It was as if he had known he had been kept waiting.

  "You are well?" he asked Elizabeth.

  "Very well, thank you."

  "Mother says the kittens are growing bigger every day."

  Elizabeth peered over the rim of her cup. "And the baby? How is little Richard?"

  "The babe has changed Stonebridge into an unequivocal ninny. His high-pitched voice is still ringing in my ears."

  Elizabeth laughed. Lord Stonebridge could never be called a ninny in her book. "And your sister?"

  "Ah, Emily is the only one in that house that has a pinch of sense. They are moving back to their townhouse today."

  Elizabeth dropped her gaze. "Oh, I believe the duke has more than a pinch of sense, and the young duchess outshines all those brothers of yours." Her eyes tilted to meet his.

  "You think so?" he asked, a smile working its way to the corners of his mouth.

  She nodded. The silence was palpable as she sipped her tea.

  Moreover, Aunt Polly appeared to be watching with such indifference it was unnerving, for Elizabeth knew the lady was mentally listing everything being said.

  "The duke is quite fond of you."

  Elizabeth's cup stilled in midair. Her cheeks grew warm. "Well, yes, in the end we did get along quite nicely. In fact, all your brothers were extremely kind."

  Stephen's hand tightened around his teacup. Was he jealous?

  "Madam, your solicitor has arrived."

  Aunt Polly looked up at her butler's announcement. "Good heavens, Wallace, I completely forgot about my appointme
nt." She rose and exchanged wary glances between Elizabeth and Stephen. "You will forgive me, but I have a most pressing problem that my solicitor and I must go over. You do understand?"

  Stephen stood. "Of course. Do not feel you have to chaperone us, madam. We are, after all, engaged."

  Elizabeth rose unsteadily, her thoughts running wild when she saw the devilish twinkle in Stephen's eyes. She could not stay alone in this room with him and remain neutral. One touch from him turned her to mush.

  She turned a pleading glance toward her aunt. "Perhaps his lordship could return tomorrow?"

  Polly gave Lord Stephen Clearbrook a curt glance and patted Elizabeth's hand affectionately. "Nonsense, my dear. He is correct on all accounts of propriety, you know. You are engaged."

  The lady leaned down and whispered in her ear. "But by no means let him kiss you. Once you do, he will lose all respect."

  Lose all respect? Well, that was a lost cause already.

  Elizabeth swallowed past the lump in her throat and watched her aunt depart. How would she keep her distance from this man?

  She would inform him that on no account would she come back to him. She turned around to tell him just that and found herself face to face with his broad chest.

  He gripped her shoulders to keep her from stumbling backwards. "Elizabeth, you have nothing to fear."

  Her chin shot up. "I am not afraid of you, my lord." She was afraid of herself. Afraid she had fallen in love with this man who would surely break her heart.

  One side of his mouth quirked upward. "Then what are you afraid of... my kisses?"

  She pulled away. "No... my lord."

  He scowled, pushing a hand through his hair. "My lord this, my lord that. We are to be husband and wife. Can you not call me Stephen?"

  He had always been Stephen to her, but he would have too much power over her if he knew the extent of her love. "I have told you that I do not wish to marry you."

  He pursed his lips and then, suddenly, he turned toward the pianoforte, his strong fingers playing a simple country song she remembered from childhood. "But you have not told me why."

  She glanced at the door. This was not working well at all.

  "Running away does not solve this." His voice was hard, almost angry.