A Simple Lady (13 page)

“Ethel what, Mother?” Kenrick interrupted. “Can you recall the last name?”

“Just a moment, dear. Let me think. It started with an S. Stanlove or Stanwish or …”

“Stanhope?”

“Yes! How clever of you, dearest. Ethel Stanhope was the name.”

Kenrick groaned softly. “Did Elizabeth say where they were going?”

“Merely to visit Mrs. Stanhope’s elderly aunt, dear. Really, Jeremy, there is no reason for you to look so upset. I know Elizabeth was not looking forward to the visit, but— Where are you going, Jeremy?”

“To fetch Elizabeth,” Kenrick called back over his shoulder. Within seconds he was in the entrance hall giving orders for the carriage to be brought around.

“I just hope I can find her in time,” he muttered, grabbing his hat and gloves from a startled footman and plunging out the door.

Alone in the drawing room, his mother straightened her cap and smiled complacently. “I knew he was growing fond of Elizabeth,” she murmured to herself. “Already he can hardly tolerate her being out of his sight.”

Chapter Eleven

Although she hadn’t been looking forward to the afternoon, Elizabeth had climbed into Mrs. Stanhope’s carriage fully determined to make the visit pleasant and to do her utmost to help Mrs. Stanhope deal amiably with her ferocious great aunt. Mrs. Stanhope appeared much less sanguine. After an initial effusive greeting, she lapsed into a brooding silence and made few attempts to respond to Elizabeth’s conversational gambits.

After a third futile effort to initiate a conversation, Elizabeth glanced out of the coach window and noted that the carriage had taken them far beyond the squares of London with which she was familiar. The streets were growing more narrow and the houses much smaller than those Elizabeth had visited with her mother-in-law. Still, the residences were neat and the neighborhood appeared quite respectable. No doubt, Elizabeth decided, Mrs. Stanhope was so silent because she was dreading this visit to her dragon of an aunt.

“Does your aunt suffer from ill health?” Elizabeth asked, recalling how cranky Squire Wilson had been when his gout was bothering him.

Mrs. Stanhope glanced up and opened her lovely blue eyes very wide. “No, her health is good. Why would you think she might be sickly?”

Elizabeth felt her face growing warm. She had the distinct impression that Mrs. Stanhope was amused by her question, although she could not imagine why. “W-w-well,” she stammered, “I suppose because I have noticed that people who are easily irritated often suffer from some ailment that makes them peevish.”

Mrs. Stanhope’s usual bright trill of laughter greeted Elizabeth’s comment. “Peevish! Aunt Agatha? My dearest Elizabeth, I cannot imagine where you got that impression. Aunt Agatha is one of the jolliest people you would ever wish to meet. I am sure you will adore her.”

“Oh,” Elizabeth said, too surprised to elaborate. She remembered quite clearly that only yesterday Mrs. Stanhope had expressed the fear that her aunt would eat her. After a few minutes of thought, Elizabeth concluded that Mrs. Stanhope had merely been using a figure of speech, much like the people at social functions who professed to be enjoying themselves prodigiously while hiding a yawn behind their hands.

“Did you bring any money with you?” Mrs. Stanhope asked, interrupting Elizabeth’s thoughts.

“Money?” Elizabeth repeated. “No. Why? Shall I need money for some reason?”

“Oh my! I should have warned you. Aunt Agatha frequently has tiny card parties during the afternoons. Her guests have come to expect it, and Aunt Agatha would be offended if we didn’t participate. Fortunately, I have several pounds with me. I’ll loan you some money, and you can repay me from your winnings.”

Elizabeth blinked in surprise. She had paid several calls with her mother-in-law, and no one had ever mentioned gambling. Of course, Mary’s friends were not young. On the other hand, Mrs. Stanhope’s aunt was not supposed to be young either. Elizabeth was feeling more uncomfortable by the moment. “I don’t play well,” she said. “I fear your aunt’s guests would grow impatient with my lack of skill. Perhaps I should not—”

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Stanhope interrupted, her mouth set in a petulant line. “No one would be upset by your lack of proficiency. My aunt’s guests are not Captain Sharps, you know.”

“Of course not,” Elizabeth agreed quickly. She had not intended to cause offense but had obviously done so. “If they really don’t mind a novice taking part in their games, I’ll be happy to play with your aunt’s guests.”

Mrs. Stanhope smiled. “I knew you would not embarrass me by being too high in the instep. Ah, here is Aunt Agatha’s house. I can hardly wait for you to meet her. I am sure you are going to have a delightful time.”

An hour later, Elizabeth was wishing she had died on the day she was born. She was down one thousand pounds—far too much to stop playing before she had recouped her losses—or so her hostess kept assuring her. Elizabeth’s luck was bound to change, Agatha Hibber asserted. Although Elizabeth placed no faith in Mrs. Hibber’s prognostications, neither did she see any honorable way to stop playing. She had already lost so much she could not imagine ever being able to repay it. But gambling debts, she was aware, were considered debts of honor. If only she could win enough to break even, she would instantly stop playing and never engage in a game of chance again.

She picked up her newly dealt hand, frowning at the cards that now wavered in her trembling hands until she could barely read them. So intense was her concentration on those capricious bits of cardboard that every gambler in the crowded room had stopped talking before Elizabeth became aware that an uninvited guest had entered their midst. A heavy hand on her shoulder brought her crashing back to reality.

“Good day, my dear,” Kenrick said, his voice soft, his tone austere. “Forgive me for interrupting your play, but I fear you have forgotten our engagement for this afternoon. I have come to escort you home.”

The grey-haired little lady who was Ethel’s great aunt had jumped to her feet when Kenrick stalked into the room, two steps ahead of a sputtering footman. That his lordship was angry would have been obvious to the slowest wit, and Mrs. Hibber was no fool. She was aware that a man who had been on the town as long as Kenrick would have heard of her little card parties and realize that his wife had been lured there to be plucked. Mrs. Hibber was also aware that Kenrick could cause her a great deal of trouble. What she had
not
realized was that the marquess cared enough for his simple little wife to come looking for her. Mrs. Hibber shot a fulminating glance toward Ethel Stanhope. Then, twisting her plumb hands in front of her, she turned with a strained smile to greet the Marquess of Kenrick.

“W-welcome, my lord,” Mrs. Hibber stammered. “So you have come to claim your dear little wife? We were delighted that she condescended to visit with us today.”

Elizabeth, glancing up into Kenrick’s coldly congenial expression, was unprepared for the onslaught of sensations her husband’s unexpected presence induced. A combination of relief, humiliation, joy, and fear threatened to drown her in a deluge of emotion. Only the pressure of Kenrick’s tightening grasp on her shoulder prevented her from jumping to her feet and bolting from the room.

“Mrs. Hibber,” Kenrick said, bestowing upon Elizabeth’s hostess the very slightest of bows. Elizabeth noted in a compartment of her mind that was not yet paralyzed by her conflicting emotions that her husband’s tone sounded both pleasant and forbidding at the same time. “I shall, of course, wish to settle Lady Kenrick’s debt before we leave. How much has she lost?”

Mrs. Hibber stopped biting her lip and smiled broadly. “How kind of you, my lord. Poor Lady Kenrick has had a run of bad luck this afternoon. Her losses come to just under a thousand pounds.”

Elizabeth, longing to dissolve into a puddle of humiliation in the seat of her velvet-covered chair, was amazed to feel Kenrick very gently pat her shoulder before addressing Mrs. Hibber again. “I shall give you my marker, which you may redeem at my solicitor’s office.” He scribbled something on a piece of paper and tossed it on the table, then turned to Elizabeth.

“Shall we go, my dear?” he asked quietly.

Elizabeth stood. She was not sure how she did so. Her knees were weak, and her head was spinning. She clung to Kenrick’s arm and somehow managed to walk with him from that hideous room while fifteen pairs of eyes were trained on her back. She did not try to say goodbye to anyone. She did not look in Ethel’s direction. She hoped never to see Ethel Stanhope again.

Within seconds they were outside, and Elizabeth was being assisted into Kenrick’s carriage where she sank weakly onto the soft squabs. Kenrick sat down opposite her and signaled the coachman to begin driving. Although he had not yet spoken, a small muscle twitching near the corner of his mouth proclaimed the depth of his fury.

After several seconds of silence, Elizabeth realized she must say something to break the tension or else disgrace herself by bursting into tears. She could not endure her husband’s unspoken censure any longer. His shouting at her, she was convinced, would have been preferable to this cold restraint. “I am very s-s-sorry, my l-l-lord,” she said. “I s-s-shall repay you, although it will take some t-t-time. My quarterly allowance is not d-d-due for a few weeks yet, but—

“Elizabeth,” Kenrick interrupted her quickly. “Why are you stuttering? Are you under the impression that I am angry with you?”

Elizabeth stared at him. “But of course, my l-l-lord,” she said, raising her chin defiantly. She knew she deserved his contempt, but still she would not allow him to bait her.

“I am not, you know,” he said gently, smiling at her with kindly understanding in his eyes. “I am angry, yes, but not with you. I am angry with Ethel Stanhope for taking you to that refined gaming hell.”

Then, almost as though speaking to himself, Kenrick murmured, “Mrs. Stanhope knows a pigeon when she sees one, but she should have refrained from plucking this particular bird. I fear the lady will soon find it necessary to leave town for a few months.”

“I do n-n-not understand,” Elizabeth said. Her head, which had been spinning for several moments, was now beginning to ache. What on earth was Kenrick talking about?

“It is very simple, my dear. Ethel Stanhope makes her living by luring innocents to Mrs. Hibber’s house where the play is deep and the cards are marked. No doubt Mrs. Stanhope will be a few hundred pounds richer this afternoon, but— Never mind. Just be assured that I do not blame you. You have no cause to be afraid of me, Elizabeth, although I cannot expect you to know that yet, can I? You see, my mother has explained to me why you occasionally stutter. I sincerely hope never to give you cause to stutter around me again.”

Elizabeth’s lacerated emotions might have endured her husband’s animosity, his censure, even his rage. Had he shouted at her, she could have raised her chin and glared at him defiantly. Had he cursed her stupidity, she could have bowed her head and agreed with him. But she could not endure his kindness, not after having cost him a thousand pounds and what must have been a very unpleasant afternoon. The tears she had managed to hold back by pure exercise of will now began rolling in large droplets down her cheeks. Within seconds, Kenrick had slipped into the seat beside her and pulled her into his arms.

Elizabeth had never cried on anyone’s shoulder before. Even Mattie had never held her close and whispered such meaningless but very comforting words into her ear. The sensation was so wonderful that Elizabeth sobbed even harder. How could Kenrick be kind to her when she had behaved like an idiot? Still, it felt glorious, being held in the embrace of a pair of strong but gentle arms, the masculine scent of his soap and cologne combining to remind her that he was also a very attractive man. Elizabeth realized she had found a refuge she never wanted to leave.

“Elizabeth?” Kenrick whispered into her ear when her sobs had finally slowed.

“Yes?” Elizabeth lifted her face to look up at her husband, inadvertently bringing her lips very close to his. It seemed only natural that he should bend his head just a fraction and gently, so very gently, touch her lips with his own.

It was not the first time Elizabeth had been kissed by her husband, but she had almost forgotten the very brief contact that had been a part of their wedding ceremony. This was different. He was kissing her today because he wished to do so, and Elizabeth was amazed to find herself kissing him back. She had not realized her instincts could result in her behaving in such a forward manner, but she made no effort to stop.

Within moments, Kenrick’s kiss had grown less gentle. Elizabeth welcomed the growing pressure, and, when his tongue rather insistently pushed against her lips, she opened her mouth to him, feeling not only momentary shock but also intense pleasure. She had not known a kiss could feel like this. Her head was beginning to spin again, and a weakness began to invade her limbs that was much more potent than any frailty that fear had ever induced.

A pothole interrupted their embrace. The carriage lunged, nearly dumping the entwined couple into the floor. Kenrick, breathless and laughing, grasped Elizabeth and pulled her back from the edge of the seat and into his arms. Suddenly a bit shy and more than a bit embarrassed, Elizabeth hid her face against Kenrick’s superfine coat, and he made no effort to change her position. They rode in silence for several more minutes before Kenrick spoke again.

“Elizabeth, I must tell you something. I regret very much having misjudged you when we first met. I regret even more that I have not taken better care of you. I should have realized that you would need a bit of guidance and that Mother, despite her best intentions, is not qualified to warn you of the pitfalls of life in London. She is too good-hearted and has been away from town too long to be familiar with the darker side of life here. I shall try to do a better job of caring for you in the future.”

“Darker side of life?” Elizabeth repeated, frowning as she attempted to pull away from their embrace. Kenrick released her instantly. “Do you mean the sort of experience I had this afternoon?”