“Sit it out? To Hades with that idea.” She leveled her shoulders and marched forward with her hand extended. She was proud to see that it didn’t even tremble, despite the whirlpool of emotion churning inside her. “Let’s show the world how it’s done, my lord.”
Chapter 6
Eliot pulled his elegant yellow curricle to a stop in front of Verena’s house on Half Moon Street. Tom, his tiger, slid off the back and ran forward to hold the horses, who tossed their heads and snorted and did their best to give the impression that standing still was beneath their dignity.
The grays were a recent purchase. They were spectacular to look at, but Eliot still needed to get their measure.
After jumping down from the carriage, he mounted the short flight of steps to Verena’s door two at a time. Merton responded to his sharp knock with his usual lack of reaction and left him to cool his heels in the hall.
The butler was used to seeing him on a Friday, although on those occasions, Eliot came in through the back garden, and he’d missed calling on Verena last week. Staying away had been deuced difficult, but he’d been too raw after she ended their affair to face another argument.
That was ten days ago. He’d hoped that she’d since had a chance to reconsider her decision. He’d hoped that she might contact him to say she’d welcome seeing him again. He wasn’t optimistic enough to imagine that she might write to say she’d decided to marry him.
To his regret, there had been no note from Half Moon Street.
He’d missed her like the very devil. At a couple of social events, he’d glimpsed her from a distance. She hadn’t acknowledged him, and he had a feeling that she’d arranged things so that they didn’t partner each other in the line of a dance. Several times, he’d approached to request a waltz, but she’d proven elusive. Not only had she proven elusive, she’d seemed determined to flirt with every dim-witted rogue in London.
Eliot tried to tell himself that she’d flirted at public events throughout their affair. If she hadn’t, people might wonder what had changed. The fact that she’d apparently just spent six months without a lover had excited enough questions.
But that had been back when he’d known he held her interest. Now she might be looking for someone to fill his place in her bed.
Over his dead body.
He’d even started attending the kind of events that he often avoided, gatherings that were a little too outré for debutantes. As luck would have it, Imogen had been at a country house party for most of last week, so he hadn’t had to escort her anywhere respectable. His appearance at a few less respectable balls had caused comment, he knew, but he was more interested in getting Verena back than in preserving his reputation as a proper young fellow.
He’d awaited a summons from his father, who wouldn’t approve of Eliot’s recent taste for low company. But it turned out that Lord Deerforth wasn’t thinking about his son. Instead, he was distracted by hopes of Imogen’s visit to Lord Halston’s estate resulting in a proposal.
Eliot wasn’t convinced that the elusive Earl of Halston was contemplating marriage. His sister was pretty and lively, but she didn’t strike Eliot as the girl to steal the rake’s heart.
But then, the heart was mysterious territory. Who would have thought that ambitious Eliot Ridley would be more than happy to throw away his political plans, once he fell headlong in love with free-spirited Verena Gerard?
Free-spirited Verena Gerard, who had danced with every blockhead in the ton over the last ten days. Every blockhead apart from Eliot Ridley.
Their awareness of each other had always approached the uncanny. Now Verena was using that awareness against him.
She was avoiding him.
So far, he had let her get away with that. But no longer.
Eliot didn’t expect her to take him back into her bed today – although he’d sing hallelujahs if she did. But he wanted to talk to her. A drive in the park would reassure her that they were on neutral territory when he stated his case.
He used the military term deliberately.
Right now, he couldn’t help viewing his courtship as a war. As the time between his arrival and her appearance lengthened, his hopes of emerging the victor from this particular battle faded with every minute. He reminded himself that losing one battle didn’t mean losing the war. This would be a long campaign. A retreat today just signaled a need to refine his strategy.
But, dear God, how it hurt to be here in this house where he’d passed the happiest hours of his life and feel so unwelcome. He hoped to hell that Verena came around to his way of thinking before too long, or he’d be a broken man.
Eliot heard a light step on the staircase. Despite everything, his heart rose in pleasure as Verena descended to the tiled floor. Pleasure, and relief strong enough to trap the breath in his lungs.
After not speaking to her in days, he starved for the sight of her. Smiling with the appreciation that not even their estrangement could crush, he stood and bowed. “Good afternoon, Verena.”
No smile in return. As she tugged on a stylish pair of red leather gloves, her movements were spiky with irritation. “Eliot, what in heaven’s name are you doing here?”
She didn’t sound pleased to see him. He hadn’t thought that she would be. Nonetheless, the edge to her tone made him stiffen. “It’s Friday.”
Her eyebrows arched with the insolence that had stolen his heart the day they’d met. Her spirit had always challenged his. Never more so than now, when she clearly wished him to perdition. “There’s one in every week I believe.”
“Your Fridays are mine.”
Her lips turned down. “They might have been, once upon a time. Thank you for returning my key.”
He’d sent back the key for the garden gate, along with an extravagant bouquet of yellow hothouse roses. Red ones would have been a little too obvious. “I respected your decision.”
“Yet here you are.”
“Would you like to come driving? I picked up a flashy new pair of horses at Tattersall’s this week, and I think you’ll like putting them through their paces.”
Lady Verena Gerard was a better driver than most men in the ton. When Eliot saw the grays, he’d known straightaway that they’d take her fancy.
As he drank in the details of her appearance, he frowned. When she’d turned up, he’d just been so bloody grateful that she hadn’t tossed him out on his ear. He’d paid no attention to what she was wearing. “In fact, I see that you’re already dressed and ready.”
Her scarlet carriage dress looked spectacular. The severe cut and the military frogging made him more aware than ever that he and Verena fought a battle. It also made the blood rush hot in his veins. Fine wool material clung to every luscious inch of the body that he hadn’t enjoyed in the last fortnight. While his heart might yearn for her, his need was achingly carnal, too.
A huff of unamused laughter escaped her. “You’ve caught me in an inconvenient moment, my lord.”
He hid a wince. They’d been on first-name terms since that first glorious coming together in a cold and blustery Leicestershire. “I can come back later, if you like.”
“I wish you wouldn’t.” She sent him a straight look. “The affair is over. You even said as much, the last time we spoke.”
Interesting that she recalled his words. Did that mean she, too, had stewed over that fraught encounter at the Lumsden ball? Or was Eliot clutching at the frailest of straws?
“Yes, I did say that, didn’t I?”
When he stepped closer, her eyes widened in alarm, before she straightened her shoulders and stared him down. He was painfully aware that she hadn’t invited him into a private room. Hell, she hadn’t even asked him to sit down. He felt like an importunate tradesman chasing up an unpaid bill.
“Then why visit me?”
He shot her a direct look. “The affair is over, Verena.” He watched relief fill her features, and almost hated knowing how short-lived it would be. “Because the courtship has begun.”<
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“Don’t be a fool, Eliot.” She went white again, and this time she retreated. “You’ve got too much to lose.”
He found it in him to smile. “And even more to gain.”
A bitter smile twisted her lush mouth. “You’re mad to say that. Once everyone is gossiping about you, and you’re a laughingstock in society, and your political dreams have turned to rubble, you’ll come to your senses. But it will be too late to repair the damage. Then, if you’re like every other man I know, no doubt you’ll blame me.”
His laugh was wry. “My sex hasn’t done much to impress you, have we?”
Her smile, such as it was, faded. “If you proceed with this absurd pursuit, you’ll inconvenience me, you’ll embarrass yourself, and you’ll spoil Imogen’s season. Whatever we shared is over. So far, you’ve escaped from my clutches without causing a scandal. Say a grateful prayer for your luck and move on.”
Stubbornness spiked, while agonizing hurt tangled his gut into knots. “I’ll never move on from you, Verena.”
“Then you’re inviting a world of pain and humiliation. How can I say this more clearly? There’s nothing further between us.”
She sounded so sure. Damn it, had he given her his heart with no hope of her returning his feelings? He refused to believe it.
Yet she sounded so adamant when she denied him. Was that because of what her bastard of a husband had done to her? Eliot would wager half his fortune that when they’d been lovers, she’d felt more than mere desire. He also suspected that she couldn’t turn off that feeling simply because she wished she could. That must be only one of the many things that terrified her.
“Do you truly feel nothing for me?” He wondered what he’d do if she said yes.
What he’d do if she said yes and he believed her.
For a brief moment, those beautiful blue eyes revealed a distress to match his own. But before his hopes could revive, she controlled her expression. “Until you started this nonsense, I felt kindly toward you. I enjoyed our time together, and it was fun to know that the most respectable man in London was being very wild indeed in my bed. Neither of those things mean that I looked forward to a lifetime in your company.”
“Is that all?” Eliot asked, hating her dismissive tone.
“I wish you well in the future.”
“Don’t you dare say that we can be friends,” he said in a taut voice.
She shrugged. “Hardly. We move in such different circles, after all.”
“If you’re going driving, why not come driving with me?”
“You know why. It’s the same reason why when you visited me, you sneaked in via the mews instead of through the front door.” Verena frowned. “Did you say you arrived in a carriage?”
He smiled. “It’s outside.”
“On the street?”
“Yes.”
A furrow appeared between her fine eyebrows. “How can you be so impulsive? There’s no point to this. If you know anything about my affairs, you must have heard that I never take a man back, once I’ve had my fill of him. Your behavior will only spark the scandal that you’ve worked so hard to avoid.”
Eliot didn’t flinch, although every time she told him it was over, it stung like the blazes. By heaven, he should go. No gentleman forced himself into company where he wasn’t wanted.
But some deep instinct kept shrieking that he wasn’t alone in still feeling the powerful attraction that had brought them together. Did Verena love him? Buggered if he knew. The odds weren’t good. But he was sure that she wanted him. Just as he wanted her.
“Then what harm to come driving? If you care so little for me, why should you worry if people say I’m just one more gentleman who has fallen under your spell? We both know it’s true.”
At his ardent declaration, her eyes rounded and he caught a glimpse of the warm, passionate creature who filled his dreams. “Eliot—”
A sharp knock on the door made her blink and turn away. “I’m engaged to drive with someone else this afternoon.” Then with a sudden burst of genuine feeling, “Plague take you, why don’t you go when I tell you to?”
His gaze didn’t waver. “You know why.”
He knew that she wanted to berate him for his persistence, but she fell silent when Merton arrived to let in the mysterious visitor. It would be a man, Eliot knew.
Was it the scoundrel who would replace him in Verena’s bed? He knew that she still wanted him, but he also knew that she was running scared. At this moment, she was het up enough to run straight into another man’s arms.
“Please get the door, Merton,” she said clearly. “Lord Colville is just leaving.”
“Very good, my lady,” Merton said. It had always amused Eliot that the boldest woman in London employed the capital’s starchiest butler. He wasn’t amused today.
Merton opened the door, and Eliot found himself trapped in a nightmare.
“Good afternoon, Verena. What lucky sod owns that dashing rig outside? Those nags are two of the prettiest horses I’ve seen in a dog’s age.”
“Good afternoon, Shelburn,” Verena said with a calmness that contrasted with her earlier crossness. She looked pleased to see the bastard, curse her. The bastard looked pleased to see her, too, as if someone proffered a delicious morsel to tempt his jaded appetite.
It was clear now who was taking her driving. It was clear for whom she’d put on that far too becoming red ensemble. Very deliberately, Eliot uncurled his hands from the fists that they’d formed at Shelburn’s appearance. He resented the man’s presence. Even more, he resented the way the villain seemed to be at home in this house.
Eliot hadn’t expected such an eligible rival. Leighton Anstey was far too handsome, and a dashing rake besides. That was something that nobody had ever called Eliot.
Had Verena decided that Shelburn was her next lover? Before she took up with Eliot, she’d demonstrated a penchant for picturesque rogues, and Shelburn certainly fit that description. The man was well known for his taste for lovely women. Eliot couldn’t even deride him as a brainless flibbertigibbet. The toad was more than just an impressive physical specimen. He had a good mind, too.
Just the sort of man Verena would find appealing.
Eliot had long ago noticed that she sought Shelburn’s company. They were regular dance partners. Were they about to become partners in sin as well?
Not if he had anything to say about it, by God.
“Lord Colville called unexpectedly.” Verena’s tone was light, as if seven months of secrecy didn’t shatter around them at this very moment.
“Good afternoon, Shelburn,” Eliot said with impressive coolness, given how much he wanted to knock the reprobate onto his arse. Despite the surface politeness, the air bristled with masculine aggression. “I dropped by on the off chance that Lady Verena might favor me with her company in the park.”
Eliot’s presence provoked derisive amusement in Shelburn. Probably because his lordship couldn’t imagine what a dull dog like Lord Colville would want with the wayward widow. Or more likely that he pictured how the wayward widow would snicker to learn that a paragon like Eliot Ridley harbored an interest in her.
“I never thought to see you here, Colville.” Shelburn regarded Eliot with an assessing stare that he couldn’t like. “Shouldn’t you be out, performing good deeds for the greater benefit of the masses or something?”
The smug swine. How Eliot burned to wipe that superior smile off the man’s highbred face. But if he did, he might as well push Verena straight into the blackguard’s arms. She wouldn’t appreciate the sight of two of her suitors brawling in her front hall, and she’d blame Eliot for any fracas.
Eliot bared his teeth in a savage smile. “This afternoon, the masses will have to manage without my assistance.”
“I see,” Shelburn said, when it was clear he didn’t see at all, although he’d dearly like to.
“But as you and I already have an appointment, Lord Colville is just on his way,” Verena said.
Even the world’s most insensitive man would know that he wasn’t welcome. Eliot ignored a lifetime of training in manners and stayed to study Verena and Shelburn, trying to work out how far their flirtation had progressed.
He hadn’t heard anything about Shelburn and Verena linking up. And unlike his affair with her, there was no reason to hide a liaison with the libertine earl. But then, it was only ten days since she’d sent Eliot away. Perhaps she and Shelburn were sorting out the details.
However much he wished it wasn’t the case, he couldn’t help admitting that they looked perfect together. Verena’s lush beauty and Shelburn’s lazy charm made them a striking couple. The earl was a swarthy fellow with a touch of the gypsy about him. Black hair. Black eyes. Black eyes all for Verena at the moment, blast him. The impulse to punch the rapscallion surged higher. “I thought the lady might like to try my new carriage horses.”
“They were giving your tiger a bit of trouble outside when I came in. He was trying to walk them, and they were showing every sign of wanting to bolt.”
Damn it all to hell. Eliot needed to take over from Tom before the grays caused an accident. He’d arrived optimistic enough to hope that he’d call for Verena, and they’d be on their way. Instead, he’d lingered to plead his case, and she was going off with Shelburn anyway.
“They’re a fiery duo, that’s for sure.”
Shelburn’s glance indicated that while the horses might be fiery, he feared their owner wasn’t. “They need a good driver.”
Eliot bit back a growl at the implication that they needed a driver other than him. Arrogant brute. “I’m up to them,” he said with a mildness that he didn’t feel.
“I’m sure,” Shelburn said with a conviction that he clearly didn’t feel either. He turned to Verena, who had remained uncharacteristically quiet through this exchange. “Shall we go, my lady?”
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