-Madame C
Eliza was resplendent. And, once more, utterly and completely beddable.
He recognized that immediately. Even from a distance.
From his position at the top of the stairs, Nicholas gazed down to where she stood next to Stephen as brother and sister chatted amiably with Lord and Lady Westfield. Tonight was Stephen's grand re-entrance into society and she looked every inch the prim and proper young lady of good breeding that she was. As opposed to last night when she looked utterly and delightfully sinful while he had ravished her in Lord Bixton's music room as the other guests were enjoying refreshments after the annual musicale.
He should not have done that. Nicholas knew they were running a great risk of being discovered. These delightful interludes in the middle of society events could not continue. Unless, of course, he wished to be caught out with her.
Then he would be forced to marry her.
Which was not quite so abhorrent an idea as it had been a few weeks ago.
If anything, it was an idea he was warming up to rather quickly.
After all, he needed an heir and they were supremely compatible in the bedchamber. And out of it. What more did a man need? Especially with a lady like Eliza, one who did not need love when considering marriage.
Except that Nicholas' gut twinged a bit when he remembered his promise to Stephen on that cold, foggy day in Portsmouth. The day Stephen had sailed away from England and his family to take on Boney with his newly purchased commission. The one Stephen had not had the funds to pay for. The one Nicholas had purchased for him with his own dwindling reserves because he saw a friend with a commitment to honor and integrity. In that moment, Stephen had reminded Nicholas of Benjamin. And he had wanted to help.
Nicholas had promised his old friend that he would make certain that Eliza married for love. That, as it turned out, was a promise he might not be able to keep. Just like so many others.
It also bothered Nicholas that he had not been completely honest with Eliza either. About so very many things. There were secrets in his past that he did not think she needed to know about. Even a little more than twenty-four hours ago, he had not thought there would ever be the need to tell her. Except after last night, when she had straddled his lap and gazed up at him with those luminous turquoise eyes, both his conscience and his heart - two things Nicholas had long assumed dead and gone - stirred to life.
And now, the need to confess all was twisting inside of his gut, making him uncomfortable.
As a general rule, Nicholas did not allow such things to bother him. He made his decisions and moved on, confident in his choices. He could not be The Bloody Duke and do otherwise. But Eliza had awakened something inside of him that he had long assumed was dead and burned to ash. And he did not like it.
For the first time since Ellie had broken his heart by marrying Berkshire, Nicholas questioned the choices he had made. Including the ones to keep silent about his role in Stephen's death.
And the possibility that he might have a son. With Ellie.
That one secret in particular had caused him the most sleepless nights over the years. More so now, as he was now seriously considering marriage. And children. Before she wed him - if it ever came to that, of course - Eliza had a right to know about the child that Ellie claimed she had borne him so many years ago. Nicholas wasn't certain he would feel compelled to tell another woman about a child who likely didn't exist, but Eliza? She was different. And he owed her his honesty if nothing else.
And it would not have likely ever been an issue had she not looked up at him last night, with those wide eyes and luscious mouth, and begged him to make love to her there in the music room.
Make love. Not fuck.
And in Nicholas' mind, there was a vast difference between the two.
He had, of course, taken her right then and there, but the entire time, the singular word - love - had ricocheted around in his brain. He did not love Eliza. But he did care for her. Far more than he had anticipated he might care for any woman he was considering taking to wife. And that single word had gnawed at him all the rest of last night and into the early hours of today. And beyond.
It whispered through his mind and rang within the empty spaces inside of him where his soul used to be. The Bloody Duke did not love, save for his much-adored sister Julia. Everyone knew that. He desired. He wanted. He lusted. But he did not love.
However what Nicholas felt for Eliza went beyond any of those things. It was an unknown feeling bouncing around inside of him, so different than even what he had felt for Ellie. He did not know how to quantify it. Or even what to do with it.
The only thing he was certain of was that he did not want it.
And that made him very, very upset.
At least until he saw Eliza. After that, all Nicholas could think of was bedding her immediately, of losing himself inside of her until the world simply went away. Just as he was picturing doing at this precise moment. Which either meant he was doing the one thing he had vowed never to do again - which was to think solely with his cock - or he was a candidate for Bedlam. The second choice seemed most likely.
Nicholas also knew that he could not continue in this fashion for much longer. He would either have to decide to wed Eliza or break ties with her completely. But before any of that, he had to decide upon what truth - if any - to tell her. And that would most likely dictate whatever course of action followed.
"Quite a crush, isn't it?" Nicholas was not surprised when Rayne appeared at his side. "And not quite the thing for you to be on time for an event. What, may I inquire, is the special occasion?" Then he cast a long look at Eliza. "Or do I even need to guess?"
Opting for a bored look, Nicholas took a sip from the champagne flute he was currently holding, the Framingham family offering the bubbling beverage on trays carried by newly hired footmen to mark the joyousness of the occasion. "You know I am courting the lady, Rayne, so out with it." He tugged down the cuffs of his sleeves and yawned. "If there is something you wish to say, simply say it."
The other man gave Nicholas a long, considering look. "I merely wonder what game you are playing."
"No game, I assure you." Or at least none that Nicholas would admit to anyway.
"So you love her, then?" The earl's eyes were dark with suspicion.
Nicholas glowered at his friend, his own eyes darkening and his temper beginning to rise. "No. I do not love any woman. Not even Eliza. You of all people know that."
Rayne considered that for a moment. Then he shrugged. "Still, it is strange that you have not tired of her yet. She is really not your sort at all. Too many brains and not enough fear." Then he smiled as if he had just told the world's funniest joke. "Ah, that's it, isn't it? She isn't afraid of you. Not like the others are. She knows you too well."
"Not. Another. Word." Nicholas was on the verge of doing something rash. Of losing control and thrashing his friend to within an inch of the man's life. That was not like him at all.
The earl inclined his head. "As you wish. Just know that your absences at your usual sorts of entertainments are becoming remarked upon. One Miss Marietta Crestwood misses you immensely, if you catch my meaning." Then Rayne's gaze strayed to Eliza once more as if critically assessing her. "If you do not intend to wed the chit, Nicholas, let her go before she is completely ruined and no other man will have her." Then he smirked. "Then again, I have always found the delightful Miss Deaver utterly charming. Perhaps if you no longer want her, I might have a shot."
Nicholas moved so fast that it was likely no one saw him. He dragged his friend into an alcove at the top of the stairs before anyone even noticed what he was doing, pressing the earl hard against the wall, his hand at the man's throat. "Watch your tongue, Rayne. I have cut them out of men's heads for far less than that insult you just hurled."
Instead of being afraid, the earl just laughed. "There is The Bloody Duke I know and love." Then he sobered. "But before you slice me to ribbons, examine your own
actions. You lose your mind if anyone even speaks remotely ill of her. You have just threatened one of the few true friends you have. You are taking risks that a man like you would never dream of before. Odd that you would risk so much for a woman you profess not to love."
Then, before Nicholas could object, Rayne wiggled out of the duke's now-slack grasp, dusted off his jacket and walked out of the alcove whistling a merry tune. And leaving Nicholas frozen where he stood.
The earl could not possibly be correct in his assumptions. Nicholas was merely tired from all of the searching he had done on Eliza's behalf over the last few weeks and it was wearing on him. Causing him to lose control and lash out. That was it. Normally he met with success in just about every search he undertook. In this case, he had not and it was irritating him to the point where he made poor decisions. Yes, that was it. Nothing more.
It was certainly not because he was coming to care for Eliza. No, not at all. That would be...irrational. And The Bloody Duke was never irrational.
Still angry, he emerged from the alcove and snatched another glass of champagne from a passing footman's tray, downing it in one, long gulp. Then he replaced the glass on the tray before the man could even move two steps away.
Fortified - or as fortified as he was likely to be at the moment - with a small amount of alcohol, Nicholas went in search of Eliza. If nothing else, being in her presence calmed him. And at the moment, he needed all of the calming he could get.
He found her near the stairs but still on the edge of the ballroom watching Stephen dance a quadrille with Lady Charlotte, Waverly's daughter who was one of the most eligible young women on the marriage mart at the moment. Eliza looked happy, Nicholas decided as he approached her, and for one idiotic moment, he thought that he might do anything to keep that smile on her face.
"I believe the next set is mine," Nicholas whispered in her ear as he came up beside her, careful to keep his hands to himself. "It is a waltz, is it not?"
Eliza did not even bother to look at the dance card still dangling from her wrist. "I believe it is, my lord." Then she smiled cheekily. "I even went so far as to pencil your name in before the ball even began. Bold of me, I know, but there you have it."
"Wench." The word was meant for her ears alone and he could not help but delight at the smile that lit her face.
"Emperor," she tossed back, but there was humor in her tone. "Behave yourself. Tonight is about Stephen. Not us."
Us. It was so simple of a word and yet so heavy in meaning. Nicholas had never been part of an "us" before. He had never kept a woman around long enough for there to even be an "us," which was the way he normally preferred it. In fact, when Adelphie had even dared to mention them as a couple, Nicholas had always corrected her quickly. Before she could get ideas into her head. With Eliza, he did not do so.
In fact, there were a good many things he did not do with Eliza that he had done with other women who had shared his bed. Then again, most of them were not ladies. Or at least not ladies like Eliza, who was magnificent tonight in a daring gown of emerald green silk and lace with diamond earbobs to draw attention to the slim, luscious column of her throat.
More than anything, Nicholas wanted to sneak away with her, to whisk her out of this overly crowed ballroom and back to his town home where he might spend the night pleasuring her until she screamed. He had yet to make her scream and that was his goal before the Season ended. When he would have to let her go. And just then, the idea of a life without Eliza did not seem nearly as appealing as it had only a few weeks before.
He wished to marry her. Truly. And that idea so thoroughly gobsmacked him that he felt his anger begin to simmer again. Not at her, but at himself. For being so bloody, stupidly foolish.
Just then, Rayne's words came back to Nicholas in a rush and he had to fight not to shift in place where he stood, a restlessness beginning to grow inside of him. One fueled by a new sense of disquiet that he had never known before.
When the music ended, the dancing couples shifted on the floor and on the edges of the ballroom, partnering up for the next set. Nicholas took Eliza's hand, wishing he had time to mop his brow. The air was already oppressively warm and Nicholas wondered if anyone had thought to open the terrace doors, as he was beginning to sweat profusely.
Except that when he glanced at the doors, they were already wide open, the warm night air, scented with the jasmine that Lady Framingham adored, floating in with each passing breeze. Then he noticed the footmen littering the edges of the ballroom, particularly the corners. They all had huge fans, the sort one saw frequently in India, and they were fanning the guests, creating an even greater breeze in an effort to keep the guests cool. After all, the place was so full of bodies that there was scant room to move.
Nicholas frowned when he noticed that Eliza appeared quite cool, her porcelain skin practically glowing under the light of thousands of flickering candles. How was that possible? He was sweltering! And the bloody chit didn't even seem in the least bit uncomfortable. And that, in turn, made Nicholas even more uncomfortable.
Was he ill? It was possible, he supposed, as he was not getting as much rest as he normally might. And The Stuck Pig was surely a disease-ridden place of filth. Except that it was also now partially under the Duke of Enwright's control. And that man had explicitly informed Nicholas that cleaning the place up was among the first things he had tasked the innkeeper with accomplishing.
His mind still reeling, Nicholas offered Eliza his arm and escorted her out onto the floor, her skirts swishing around him as they moved. He could smell the soft hint of lavender that she so adored. It mixed with the jasmine and for a moment, he felt himself grow a bit lightheaded.
This would not do. He was The Bloody Duke. Nicholas Rosemont. The most feared man in all of London. Possibly in all of England. He really did have to get hold of himself. Possibly call upon Dr. Hastings if this odd feeling did not pass soon.
"My lady," Nicholas finally managed as he pulled Eliza to him, holding her just far enough away from himself to be proper, but still close enough to be slightly scandalous. He did have a reputation to maintain after all. "Shall we dance?"
She smiled up at him, so radiant that it nearly broke Nicholas' heart. He had to tell her and prayed that she forgave him. Sooner rather than later. He just did not know how.
"Of course, your grace." This time, she spoke the words as if she meant them and not with the raw distain she had the night of the Devonmont musicale. Oh, how things had changed. And for the better. She did not know they were about to change again. This time, quite possibly for the worse. "I would be ever so delighted."
She was playing with him now, teasing him. And no one ever teased him. They were too afraid. And that, more than anything else, made his heart ache just a little bit more.
"Izzy, I..." he whispered but she shushed him quickly.
"Not here, Lord Candlewood." Her gaze fell on the other dancers. "It is not a good idea at the moment."
Very well, to borrow a phrase from her. Not here and not now. But soon. He could not keep up this charade much longer without her knowing all of the ugly truth. He prayed that she would still want him when he confessed, but he needed to accept the possibility that she would not. And that would take some time. A week at least. Possibly more.
So he would tell her all. Just not now.
Decision made, he smiled down at her from his towering height, his head clearing a bit. It was the same laconic smile he had given hundreds of ladies before. And yet, this time it was different somehow. Most likely because it was for her. And her alone. If no one else saw, it did not matter. Before, it always had.
"As you like." His eyes twinkled. He felt certain of it. And for once, Nicholas did not care that he was behaving in a most un-Bloody Duke-like fashion. "There will be time later, my lady. Much time. I promise." And he smiled that wolfish smile that had charmed many a woman into his bed over the years.
And when Eliza smiled back, looking for all the worl
d as if she was the sun in his universe, he felt something inside of him loosen.
Nicholas did not have time to think about the sensation overly much, as the music began and he swept Eliza into the elegant steps of the waltz. The Framinghams had spared no expense on anything it seemed, the musicians just as good - if not better, quite frankly - than any that performed at Carlton House. They created magic with their instruments and Nicholas felt it wrapping around him, cocooning him and Eliza in their own little world. She was gazing up at him adoringly and in her eyes, for the first time, he could see a future beyond that of his life as a spy.
Together they whirled in and out among the other couples, a blur of green and black, heedless of anyone else but each other. Time ceased to exist, the rest of the room fading into the background until, for Nicholas, there was only Eliza. Her wit and her charm and her beauty captivating him like no other woman ever had. Her feet did not even seem to touch the floor when she was in his arms, and he felt the weight of her so perfect within his embrace. As if she belonged there.
This is right, a part of him whispered. This is where you need to be.
For once, he did not argue. He simply accepted.
And as the music reached its natural, soaring crescendo, he felt his heart - the one he had thought long dead - crack open within his chest and a new feeling begin to unfurl. Love - or something very much like it - flooded him. In that moment, Nicholas knew happiness. For the first time since he had witnessed Benjamin Sinclair kill his own father to protect Nicholas' sister, there was peace inside of him.
Then...the music stopped.
The room hushed and the dancers ceased to twirl, Nicholas and Eliza among them.
And his gaze traveled to the top of the steps leading down to the ballroom. And the man standing there dressed all in formal black.
A man with short, honey-wheat blonde hair and turquoise eyes.
The Secret Seduction of Lady Eliza Page 28