All's Fair in Love and Seduction

Chapter Three

At the sound of the nasally voice of Lady Danvers, Elizabeth immediately went as still as prey sensing danger. Instinct told her not to turn around, but to run and hide.

But she knew she couldn’t outrun the reach of the dowager’s influence and hiding would merely bring out the gossip hounds, who could sniff out a brewing scandal in their sleep.

Perhaps Lady Danvers hadn’t witnessed anything untoward and thereby worthy of gossip, malicious or otherwise. Perhaps she was merely stopping her to exchange pleasantries. A perfectly lovely fantasy.

With a smile fixed in place, Elizabeth turned to confront the danger head on.

Oh Lud! Lady Danvers’ presence would have been bad enough, but to add to Elizabeth’s growing dismay, at her side stood Mrs. Albright, one of her mother’s oldest and dearest friend. Her raised brow and tight lips conveyed a mixture of shock and concern.

What on earth was she doing here? Her mother had mentioned her friend would be visiting with her niece in London for a spell in the summer but had never mentioned an acquaintance with her cousin Missy or James.

“Who was that with you?” Lady Danvers demanded, her voice ringing out haughty and shrill. Her eyes, a shade of blue not heralded by the poets, flashed triumphantly behind a pair of gold-rimmed glasses.

When Elizabeth didn’t immediately respond—for she could not think of one face saving thing to say—the dowager flicked a gloved hand at her as she made a coarse inspection of her from head to hem and then back up again. “You should be ashamed of yourself. I realize this is your first Season, but in London society, country girls are expected to comport themselves better than barn felines. Loose morals have no place here.”

Elizabeth would have preferred to be cross-examined before the magistrate than suffer the dowager’s dressing down. Her world was crumbling down around her and she could do little to stop the destruction.

Opposite of the Dowager Countess of Danvers in every possible way with her small-boned frame and impeccable manners, Mrs. Abernathy appeared unwilling to convict Elizabeth without a fair hearing. “Lady Danvers, I’m sure you are mistaken. I have known Elizabeth since she was a babe. If you would give the poor girl a chance, I’m quite certain she has a perfectly logical explanation.”

Elizabeth could have kissed her, the dear woman. Mrs. Abernathy had always had a fondness for her and her sisters, bringing them treats on every visit with her mother.

“What possible explanation could there possibly be? It’s quite obvious they were doing a sight more than flower gazing. And don’t you try to protect her. You heard their goings on as clearly as I did.” The dowager folded fleshy arms across her ample breasts, refusing to budge an inch as she stood set to be jury and judge while wielding her executioner’s sword like she’d been going so all her seventy odd years.

Elizabeth met Lady Danvers’ disapproving glower without flinching. The Dowager Countess of Danvers was a formidable force in society, her influence wide reaching and much sought after. An unfavorable word from her lips would spell certain disaster for someone in Elizabeth’s position.

Anger began a slow burn at the woman’s arrogance.

What possible explanation indeed.

But Elizabeth wasn’t addled in the brain as to respond the way she wanted—the way she ought to—fully understanding the ways of London society. A healthy dose of fear settled in the pit of her stomach.

Think, think, think.

She must tell the blasted woman something before the gossip wheels began to turn in earnest and at record breaking speeds. If the dowager countess had her way, Elizabeth and the Smith name would be dirt before the evening closed.

“My sincerest apologies, my lady, if my behavior has been indiscreet. But in my excitement, I acted out of character.” Where she was going with this, Elizabeth hadn’t the faintest idea, but Mrs. Abernathy’s brown eyes widened and Lady Danvers gave a succinct nod, urging her to proceed. She now had their most focused attention.

“It’s not to be announced until the end of the Season, but given what you heard, I shall tell you. I would hate it if you walked away thinking the worst of me.”

Elizabeth drew in a deep breath and threw herself at the mercy of an uncertain fate. “The gentleman had just asked me to marry him. I am betrothed—or at least I shall before the end of the Season.” Which gave her four weeks to perform that minor miracle.

A delighted smile, stretched across Mrs. Abernathy’s face. “Oh my dear girl, that is wonderful. My, your mother never said of word of it to me.” She clapped her hands together in girlish glee.

However, the dowager wasn’t so easily fooled. She directed a level stare at Elizabeth that made her want to squirm. Acting was not one of Elizabeth’s talents but with her future resting in the hands of an unyielding and austere Lady Danvers, she summoned up every bit of ingenuity she possessed—which did not account to much—and smiled a foolish, giddy smile of a young woman with stars in her eyes and love in her heart.

“And to whom are you betrothed?” the countess asked.

“Unfortunately, I cannot say until the gentleman receives the blessing of my father. Which my father will grant, of course, as the gentleman is titled,” she added quickly, willing to say anything to remove the skepticism from the dowager’s eyes.

Lady Danvers glanced at Mrs. Abernathy before turning back to her. “A peer you say?” She spoke with enough doubt in her tone to offend.

The witch!

Although truthfully, Elizabeth acknowledged that before her father inherited his title, there was more a likelihood that money would fall from the sky than her marrying even a sir. But now it was indeed possible, especially with the one thousand pounds her father had settled on her.

Elizabeth drew back her shoulders and stiffened her spine. “Yes, my lady, a lord.”

In response, the dowager raised one over-plucked eyebrow and gave a soft, harrumph before saying, “I will be expecting an introduction before you go announcing it to all of London.”

If the woman had requested she deliver her the moon on a platter, Elizabeth would have gladly promised to do just that. But since thankfully, the dowager hadn’t asked the impossible, Elizabeth just nodded vigorously. “You will be the first to know, that I promise.”

“Make certain you do.” The unspoken threat of revealing all the dowager had heard and seen tonight all over London simmered between them. “And do make yourself presentable before you go back inside. It shan’t take a genius to guess what you have been up to.”

Elizabeth acknowledged Mrs. Abernathy with a grateful smile, performed an ingratiating curtsey toward the dowager before hastily taking her leave, pondering how precisely she was going to get herself out of this mess.

~*~*~

After slipping back inside, Elizabeth was met by Missy. She attempted to excuse herself from the remainder of the ball pleading a headache but her cousin insisted they speak privately because she knew something was troubling her. As Elizabeth knew Missy would ruthlessly wear her down with her compassion and concern, she‘d acquiesced without another word and led Missy to her bedchamber.

Five minutes later, Missy paced the carpeted floor at the foot of the bed, her slender fingers twirling a lock of chestnut hair she’d pulled from the pins securing it into an elegant coiffure, her smooth brow furrowed in fierce concentration.

“Well, I would definitely say you have managed to get yourself into quite a bind,” Missy stated after a lengthy silence that followed Elizabeth’s recount of the evening’s events.

At least she hadn’t told her how utterly thoughtless and foolish she‘d been to have put herself in such a situation. Elizabeth had already berated herself up one side of Hyde Park and down the other.

“What am I to do?” she asked, doing her best to tamp down a wave of panic that seemed to ebb and flow depending on who, the viscount or the dowager, her thoughts centered upon.

Her cousin’s expression immediately became contrite. Holding out her hand, she motioned Elizabeth to the large canopy bed. “Come, sit down. You look like a bundle of nerves. Don’t fret so. All will be well, I promise.”

Missy angled toward her once they were seated on the edge of the bed and looked Elizabeth in the eye. “Lord Creswell must marry you. I can see no other way.”

Difficult as it was, Elizabeth had to face the truth of her words. And that wasn’t to say she herself abhorred the thought. Her distress stemmed from the unfortunate circumstances and her one glaring omission. She had to tell him who she was.

“He is going to be angry.”

Missy’s back went straight as a board and a steely glint entered her blue-gray eyes. “Then he should have been more circumspect in his dealings with you,” she said her voice cooling several degrees.

As much as Missy admired the viscount, Elizabeth knew her cousin would have no problem taking him on to defend her honor. Elizabeth dropped her gaze to her lap. Never had she felt so unworthy of such unstinting loyalty.

“I will speak with James tomorrow, you best get some sleep.”

Elizabeth’s face blistered with heat. Good Lord, what would he think of her? And worse yet, what would he do? “James will not-not—”

Missy’s countenance softened and a teasing smile transformed her beautiful face to nothing short of breathtaking. “Don’t worry, my dear, my husband is not a violent man. Moreover, he is terribly fond of Lord Creswell, as are we all.”

“Oh no, I didn’t mean—”

The soft lilting sound of Missy’s laughter cut off Elizabeth’s stricken protest. “Be assured, James will know precisely how to handle this situation. He’s a very gifted arbitrator. Jason and Jessica are as malleable as clay in his hands,” she said, speaking of her and James’s two-year-old twins.

Elizabeth smiled faintly. She could well imagine. The earl had that kind of effect on people.

“But I don’t want him to be forced to marry me if he is opposed.”

“The viscount should consider himself very fortunate to have you as his wife.”

Now would be the time to tell Missy about the less than amiable past they shared, but after seeing the hope and confidence in her cousin’s eyes, Elizabeth couldn’t bring herself to heap yet another bit of misery upon her tonight. Perhaps, when the morning dawned clear and bright, her future wouldn’t appear quite so miserable and gray.

~*~*~

Gray skies and a misty rain greeted the morning. Derek didn’t so much mind the gloomy weather for he hadn’t any pressing plans that required him to leave his residence that day.

He was taking breakfast in the dining room when he heard the doorbell chime. Surprised, he shot a glance at the cherry, long-case clock by the far wall. Nine o’clock. Like many of his peers, he owned a well-appointed flat in Mayfair, but he did not normally receive callers before noon. On Sundays, no one called.

A minute later his manservant entered and inquired if he was in for Lord Alex Cartwright and Lord Windmere.

Curious but not alarmed, he instructed Paulson to have the men await him in the drawing room.

When he joined them, ten minutes later, Rutherford prowled the room. Cartwright stood in front of a narrow paned window that stretched the length of wall, his back to him, hands thrust deep into his trouser pockets as he looked out into small yard at the back. Both men turned at his entry.

Taking in the grim set of Cartwright’s mouth and a somber Lord Windmere, Derek immediately evinced this wasn’t to be a pleasure call.

“Good morning, gentlemen. I can see from your expressions you aren’t here for the want of my company.” Derek smiled in an attempt to ease the sudden tension in the room. Surely whatever the news, it couldn’t be all that bad.

Cartwright shook his head, a move that held suppressed fury. “You couldn’t just leave well enough alone could you? Damn it man, why couldn’t you leave her alone when I expressly told you she isn’t the type to dally with.”

Bloody hell, they obviously knew about the kiss. But how? Miss Smith hadn’t seemed the type to run and tell tales the moment his back was turned.

While Derek grappled with just how he should respond, Rutherford stalked toward him, his footsteps muffled by the rug underfoot. He looked menacing and severe. He halted in front of him.

Was he sizing him up? He and Rutherford were approximately the same height, an inch above six feet, and possessed similar frames. In a fight, neither would have an innate advantage.

“You must marry her,” the earl said evenly.

What the devil had she told them?

“She’s demanding I marry her because I kissed her?”

“Your embrace with Miss Smith did not go unobserved,” Cartwright practically growled from behind Rutherford.

“Observed by whom?” Derek would not begin to panic just yet. Things may not be looking altogether rosy but surely they couldn’t have already reached the catastrophic stage.

“At present, Lady Danvers doesn’t know it was you with Miss Smith in the garden,” Rutherford said grimly. “Despite her advancing years, her hearing is still as sharp as ever and it would appear you failed to keep your goings on strictly between Miss Smith and yourself. I don’t believe I need to tell you how much this has distressed my wife.”

Derek suppressed the groan that had built up in his throat and the string of curses that sprang to his lips. The whole bloody thing was a mess.

While he admitted Elizabeth Smith heated his blood like no woman had in quite some time, that didn’t mean he wanted to take her as his wife. To be forced to do so was even worse.

“I don’t even know the woman.” It was a weak argument but was all he had to offer.

“Well it appears you’ve received enough intimate knowledge of her to see her ruined.” Cartwright ran his hand through his hair. “In any case, whether you know her sufficiently or not, you have to marry. She’s in this fix because of you.”

Like hell she is!

“I’ll have you know, she was the one who followed me out to the garden. She was the one who sought me out. She is—” Derek broke off.

She’d set out to trap him.

Following him out to the garden. Crashing into him. Although, he’d known she had deliberately sought him out, he hadn’t known how far she intended to take it. She must have known the dowager had been there, ears primed to hear all Miss Smith had set in motion.

The last time he’d had to deal with a female this treacherous and conniving, it had cost his father one thousand pounds to avoid the threat of a scandal. What would this one cost him today? His freedom?

“I did not pursue her. She pursued me.”

“Whether she pursued you or you pursued her is irrelevant. What matters is that you have a duty to her now. She is my wife’s cousin and under our care while she resides with us.” It was clear Rutherford would not countenance a refusal, his voice firm and final.

The unwelcome and unfamiliar feeling of helplessness made his limbs feel heavy and useless. He’d prided himself as being a man who solved problems, a man who remained level-headed in trying situations. At the moment, he felt as if he’d been knocked sideways and then pushed into a corner as the walls closed in around him.

Without saying a word, he crossed the room, picked up a glass tumbler from the sideboard and poured himself two fingers of whiskey. He downed it like a man who’d walked the length of the Sahara Desert without a drop of water. The burn in his throat remained when he turned back to face Rutherford and Cartwright.

“So where am I to find my dearest betrothed?”