All's Fair in Love and Seduction

Chapter Nine

“Mama!” It wasn’t a greeting. Elizabeth had glimpsed her face in the mirror of the vanity in the bedchambers, and her eyes were red-rimmed, her face a mottled mess.

“Lizzie,” her mother practically shrieked in delight.

Soon Elizabeth was enfolded in slender arms, breathing in the scent of her mother’s favorite perfume. It reminded her of lilies and the tiny garden they’d had at their home in Penkridge.

Considered a beauty in her time, her mother had managed to maintain much of her looks, her complexion smooth, her brown eyes crinkled lightly at the corners and her hair, light brown and subtly streaked with gray.

Elizabeth found herself hugging her mother’s slight frame tightly, suddenly homesick and craving the warmth and loving security of family. But she refused to get misty eyed, especially in front of the viscount.

Her mother set her away from her. “Are you surprised?”

“Mama, what are you doing here? What about the house?”

“I didn’t receive a letter from you the week past. You know how I worry.”

“But I posted it.” Her mother would use any excuse to come to London. But their new residence had been in desperate need of renovations. And her mother trusted no one to oversee the effort and that included Elizabeth’s father and sister, Rebecca.

“I did receive a letter from Teresa.”

Mrs. Abernathy. Elizabeth suppressed a groan. That explained everything.

It was only then that her mother directed her attention to Derek. He hadn’t left but stood quietly behind them watching their reunion.

“Who is this, Lizzie?” Her mother’s smile welcomed the viscount. It was obvious she didn’t recognize him.

An awkward silence followed. Her mother’s smile fell as her gaze darted between them. Two lines formed on her brow.

“Mama, this is Lord Derek Creswell.”

A sharpened gaze returned to the viscount. Comprehension dawned on her mother’s face. She stood back and switched her scrutiny to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth was immediately conscious of her half-buttoned gown under her pelisse and her disheveled hair under her bonnet.

“Then it would appear the viscount and I are acquainted,” her mother’s voice had iced over.

Derek acknowledged the fact with a terse nod.

“Elizabeth, remove your things and let us all adjourn to the drawing room where we can speak in private. If Lord Creswell has no objections,” her mother added.

There was no way she could remove either the bonnet or the pelisse. And she was certain her sharp-eyed mother was aware of it.

“Mrs. Smi—Lady Bartlett, I’d prefer to speak with you in private.”

Relief made Elizabeth almost light-headed. Before her mother could form a response, Elizabeth turned and fled up the stairs and straight into the privacy of her bedchamber.

Lady Bartlett was exactly as Derek remembered her. A petite thing who carried herself with a regal grace that suggested her origins had not been working class or even gentry. Six years ago, he’d thought she’d been simply putting on airs. He wasn’t so certain of it now.

Upon entering the drawing room, she dismissed the maid dusting around the fireplace. She settled herself on the sofa and then motioned for him to take a seat.

Derek obliged her, ready for charges that he’d compromised her daughter and demands for a marriage. Six years later, the players were different, but the scenario unchanged.

“Lord Creswell, have you compromised my daughter?” she asked in a most civilized tone.

Derek was taken aback by the question, so very pointed and without the hysterics that had followed the accusation when she’d launched it at his brother. “Is that not a question you should ask your daughter, my lady?”

“I would rather ask you directly. Lizzie has a soft heart and mightn’t tell me the truth.”

It would appear the daughters had learned deception at the feet of their mother. She would now act as if they—the whole lot of them—hadn’t planned all this down to the smallest detail.

“Your daughter is no worse off than when I first met her.”

Her back snapped straighter and her regard narrowed. Anger pursed her mouth. “I want you to stay away from my daughter,” she said in excruciatingly crisp tones.

Stay away from my daughter.

It should have brought him relief because it sounded all very good. Seconds elapsed before he concluded the notion settled as well as an overcooked soufflé.

This he hadn’t expected. Either the warning or his reaction to it. Indeed, it should be he who should be angry for it was he who had been duped.

“You want me to keep away from her? Me?” As if they need worry about him dogging her, unable to stay away for the want of her. Lady Bartlett couldn’t possibly mean it. This had to be part of their ploy.

“I certainly am not about to make the same mistake my husband and I made with Maddie when your brother treated her so shamefully.”

Derek stiffened in affront. “Your daughter—”

A slender hand shot up to halt his speech. “My daughter,” the baroness said, her lips bitterly tight, “was all of seventeen years to your brother’s nineteen. Despite claims to the contrary, he was the one who seduced her with promises of a future together and marriage.”

“My brother would not lie to me.”

“And if you believe that, you’re not nearly as bright as you appear.”

“I would certainly believe my brother over your daughter.”

Lady Bartlett opened her mouth and then abruptly closed it and drew in a breath. “My lord, have you never been wrong about anything or anyone? I shall be the first to admit that I have. I was wrong about you. We met under the most difficult of circumstances and while you struck me as fiercely loyal and protective of your family, you also appeared to be the kind of man who wouldn’t make an innocent pay. I know something has occurred between you and my daughter, and I can see she’s hurting. But know this, Elizabeth is the innocent in all of this. She was fifteen years when this occurred and should not be held accountable.”

When the baroness finished, Derek felt all of two feet tall. And he didn’t like being brought down so low. Which was probably why, he found himself saying, “Since you have essentially warned me away from your daughter, shall I have a bank dr—”

“I don’t want your damn money.” She wasn’t quite so ladylike now, her eyes flashing in fury, her face shades pinker.

“You demanded it once.” That she could not deny.

“It would behoove you to get your facts straight. Neither my husband nor I demanded money. The money was offered.”

Derek wasn’t accustomed to anyone speaking to him as if he were a child. At least not since he had been one.

The baroness was not yet finished with him. “What would you have done in our place with little money and my daughter’s reputation in tatters because of your brother? We lived in a small town, which as you can imagine, made my daughter’s marital prospects all but nonexistent. We were forced to settle most of the money on her to ensure a good marriage.”

“My brother was the injured party. Your daughter knew exactly what she was doing.”

They’d been embroiled in the same bitter argument six years ago. Nothing good would come of dredging up the past.

Something fierce flashed in the baroness’s eyes. A lioness ready to destroy anything or anyone in order to protect her young. She arose abruptly, her burgundy skirts whirling at her feet. “I will see you out.”

Derek didn’t know why he was surprised, but he was. No one had ever dismissed him. Ever.

Derek rose. “Elizabeth—”

“Do not concern yourself with my daughter,” she snapped.

It was clear she suspected he had compromised her daughter and she was…letting him go. No demands for marriage and she’d even turned down his offer of money before he’d even managed to make it.

As if she read the confusion in his face, she relented. “I saw my daughter unhappily married to a man she did not love and did not love her. I won’t visit the same misery upon another. I want my girls to be loved and cherished, no matter the cost. If doing so requires that we never again step foot in London, so be it.”

Derek digested the news but that was not to say it went down easy. He followed the baroness from the room. He’d never thought about what had happened to Madeline Smith, his anger toward her had been too blind for that.

They arrived in the foyer. A footman stood posted at the front door, which surprised him as Derek hadn’t noticed him when they’d arrived.

He turned to the baroness. “Lady Bartlett—”

“Good evening, Lord Creswell,” she said with withering finality. She spun on her heel, crossed the foyer and ascended the stairs.

Just as he’d once thought to wash his hands of the whole Smith family, the baroness had obviously washed her hands of him.

This should have relieved him.

It did not.

~*~*~

A knock sounded on Elizabeth’s bedroom door ten minutes later.

It was her mother. She had a distinctive rat-a-tat-tat knock.

When her mother stepped into the room, Elizabeth knew she knew. But during the next hour in which they spoke, her mother never asked her directly, Are you still a virgin? It was as if she didn’t want to know. She also said nothing about the conversation she’d had with the viscount and Elizabeth didn’t ask. Instead, she shared everything she believed her mother should know: the incident in the garden and Lady Danvers.

Her mother didn’t scold her or promise to make things alright, she just opened her arms to her, held her close and whispered, “If you do nothing else in this life, my dear, marry for love and you’ll have no regrets.”

She then asked Elizabeth if she wished to go home with her when she left. But Elizabeth couldn’t bring herself to abandon what would undoubtedly be her first and last London Season. And it wasn’t because she so adored the social whirl—although it was exciting. No, as much as it pained her to admit it even to herself, especially given his treachery, when she departed London, she would never see him again.

She hadn’t given herself to him lightly and couldn’t cut him from her heart because she didn’t want to feel for him everything she did.

To Elizabeth’s surprise, her mother agreed that she should remain in London, reminding her gently to always remember to walk with her head up high.

~*~*~

Two days later, Derek awoke to a misty gray morning as much a part of London as Newgate and royalty. By the time he arrived at White’s for a prearranged meeting with Cartwright, his mood was black as the night skies.

They took a table on the second floor and spoke of the mundane as they played all fours before Derek collected the cards at the close of the second game and carefully placed the deck on the redwood surface between them.

With a pointed look at the cards and then at Derek, Cartwright raised a quizzical brow. “Is it the prospect of your upcoming nuptials that has you looking so morose or can that be blamed on the company?” his friend asked wryly.

“I will not be wedding Miss Smith.”

Cartwright’s mouth flattened into a straight line. “Pardon?” he asked in a deceptively soft voice. The calm before the storm.

“Before you call me out, at least do me the courtesy of listening to what I have to say.” They lived in modern times but duels were not beyond the realm of possibility, although he imagined it’d be Rutherford he’d be meeting across the field at dawn. Derek hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

Cartwright’s jaw was tight as if he were gritting his teeth. He jerked his chin motioning Derek to continue.

And so he recounted the tumultuous history between the families—an incident he hadn’t shared with a soul—and his meeting with the baroness.

At the conclusion, his friend let out a single expletive. “Doesn’t she give a damn that her daughter will be disgraced?”

“Apparently she’d rather that than have me as a son-in-law.” Which made not one whit of sense. If Elizabeth married him, she’d want for nothing.

Except a husband who loved her.

Bloody hell, the woman had told him to stay away from her daughter. Why was he still thinking about Elizabeth? When would it stop? Missing her? Wanting her?

“Hell, you called her eldest daughter a liar and a gold digger and insinuated she and her husband were extortionists. Did you expect her to smile prettily and welcome you with open arms?” Cartwright asked, his voice low and fierce, his form nearly vibrating like a plucked tine.

Derek’s back stiffened in affront. “I merely spoke the truth. Good God man, I was there.”

“No, your brother was there not you. You have only his word he didn’t seduce the girl and divest her of her virginity.”

“His word is good enough for me.”

Cartwright had the gall to look skeptical.

“And Miss Smith, the one you did compromise, what do you intend to do about her? She’s in need of a husband.”

Not one hour passed when he didn’t think about her, when he didn’t remember what she’d looked like naked on the bed, the glossy sheen of her tangled hair spread against the stark whiteness of the bed sheets. He remembered too her quiet smile, her soft laugh, her inquisitive eyes and easy company.

If she had been anyone else than who she was, he would have married her.

But all the ifs in the world wouldn’t change that he couldn’t trust her.

“She doesn’t need a husband,” Derek replied quietly, thinking about the report on his desk. “I’ve taken care of that.”

~*~*~

Derek saw his brother once a year, which was not at the height of the London Season. Henry normally packed up his brood at Christmastide to make the trip to the estate in Berkshire, the location of the viscountcy seat. But when Derek returned to his residence the day after he’d spoken with Cartwright, he found his brother reclining in his favorite chair in the library.

“What the devil are you doing here?” As much as he loved his younger brother, Derek wasn’t exactly fit for company. He and Cartwright hadn’t parted on cordial terms or spoken since.

And it had been three days since he’d last seen Elizabeth. He hated that that even signified.

His brother pushed his lanky frame from the chair, the same easy grin he’d used to charm his way out of plenty of trouble beamed from his face.

“Hey old man, you’re looking quite prosperous.” He thrust out his hand, which Derek shook as he tamped down a niggling sense of irritation. This old business with Henry was now more than a thorn in his side, it now haunted him.

“As are you. What have I done to deserve a visit?” Derek motioned his brother back into his chair, while he took the one opposite.

“Well, if you want to know the truth, I heard the most ghastly rumor and thought I’d come up and get the truth right from the horse’s mouth—so to speak.”

Elizabeth. There could be no other reason.

When Derek didn’t immediately respond, Henry tilted his head to the side, his dark brow propped high. “Would you like to know what I heard?”

“I’m sure you didn’t come all this way to not tell me.”

His brother abandoned his indolent pose and came forward in his seat. “I can see that it’s true. You are courting the younger Smith girl.” Henry made it an accusation.

Derek didn’t very much care for his tone.

“And if I am?” Derek wasn’t certain he hadn’t said it just to be contrary.

His brother went silent as if his power of speech had suddenly abandoned him. Unfortunately, he found it soon enough.

“Have you gone completely mad, man? After our dealings with that family?” Henry asked, the whites of his eyes clearly visible.

“This matter is none of your concern.” The very, very last thing Derek wished to discuss with his brother was Elizabeth Smith.

Henry’s eyes narrowed. He then asked softly as if his suspicion had not yet been fully realized, “Did you bed her?”

Derek came abruptly to his feet. This discussion was officially over. “I just told you that my relationship with Miss Smith is my personal affair and therefore, no concern to you.”

Relationship. Derek wasn’t sure who was more stunned by his injudicious use of the word, him or his brother. And this after having had her once and knowing her the duration of three weeks.

“Did she tell you that you were her first? I hope you didn’t believe her. Her sister said the same to me.”

It took a moment before Derek understood the full import of his brother’s vehement claim. His mind reeled and his belly lurched sickly. If betrayal had a sound, at present it was buzzing in his ears. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and too controlled. “You told me you hadn’t bedded her. You swore it on our grandmother’s grave.”

A look of sheepishness flashed across his brother’s face. It lasted but a moment. “What else did you expect me to say? I certainly wasn’t going to marry her.” His mouth curled in disdain. “I knew if I told you the truth, you would puff up your chest and lecture me on honor, integrity and that sort of thing.”

Derek clenched his hands into fists, forcibly holding them pinned to his sides lest he strike his brother as he greatly yearned to. Instead he breathed, drawing in large drafts of air into his lungs. “I went to their home, stood in the middle of their parlor and called their daughter a gold-digger—insinuated she was little more than a whore.”

“She was a gold-digger. The fact that I shagged her in no way changes that. I probably wasn’t the first man she’d tried it with. You thought as much yourself.”

Blood rushed to Derek’s head as blinding rage threatened to obliterate his vision. “I believed so based on your word. You swore it had been a kiss and nothing more.” He spat the last two words.

“Good God man, that was six years ago. Why the hell are you getting all heated up over it now?”

Derek stared into his brother’s brown eyes and saw with amazing clarity the type of man he’d become—perhaps had always been—but he, his older brother, had been too blind to see. Selfish and spoiled, a man who lacked the proper moral compass. If he wasn’t his flesh and blood, Derek would have pummeled him to a fare thee well.

“Your behavior was then, and is now, unconscionable.” As admonishments went, Derek’s lacked the frenzied rage one might expect given the seething anger inside him.

His brother stared at him for several moments, clearly puzzled by his reaction. Then his brows smoothed and the semblance of smile angled the corners of his mouth upward. “You care for her,” he whispered as if voicing an astounding revelation.

Denial sprang immediately to his lips. Derek opened his mouth to issue it with emphatic conviction when an image of Elizabeth, naked with rose-tipped breasts and passion glazed eyes, pushed unwanted into his thoughts.

The silence that followed was its own response.

Henry shook his head, his expression bemused. “By God, I was right. You’ve gone and fallen for the chit.”

It happened before Derek could stop himself. His fist met his brother’s jaw with a thud. There was a roar of pain and then Henry staggered back several steps, his hand cradling the left side of his face that in minutes would begin to swell and distort as bone crunching blows tended to do.

“Bloody hell, Derek, what the devil!”

His brother look bewildered as if all he’d done shouldn’t have given Derek cause to lay him low even before he had the temerity to speak of Elizabeth in such disparaging tones. To speak about her as if she was some insignificant piece of baggage who didn’t deserve respect.

“You had that coming. Consider yourself lucky that you’re my brother or I would’ve broken your damn jaw.” And he could have hit him a great deal harder.

“Make certain you’re not here when I return.” With that and sore reddened knuckles, Derek stalked from the room.