Almost Heaven (15 page)

She was, however, not so lost as to the ramifications of her actions that she forgot about Robert’s impending arrival, Unfortunately, she had never imagined Robert might have been on his way there before her note ever arrived.

“Please listen to me,” she whispered desperately. “My brother is coming to take me home.”

“Then I’ll talk to him. Your father may have some objections, even after he understands that I’ll be able to provide for your future –”

“My future!” Elizabeth interrupted in genuine terror at the way he was taking charge a gambler, just like her father. She thought of the rooms at Havenhurst, stripped almost bare of valuables, the servants counting on her, the
ancestors
counting on her. At that moment she would have said anything,
anything
to make him stop pursuing her before she lost control completely and gave in to the mindless, wicked weakness he seemed to inspire in her. She leaned back in his arms, trying to make her shaking voice sound cool and amused: “And what will you provide, sir? Will you promise me a ruby large enough to cover my palm, as Viscount Mondevale has? Sables to cover my shoulders and mink to carpet the floor, as Lord Seabury has?”

“Is that what you want?”

“Of course,” she said with brittle gaiety, but she was choking back a sob. “Isn’t that what all females want and all gentlemen promise?”

His face hardened into an expressionless mask, but his eyes were probing hers like daggers, looking for answers – as if he couldn’t completely believe that jewels and furs mattered to her more than feelings.

“Oh, please let me go,” she cried on a choked sob, shoving hard at his chest.

So intent were they that neither of them noticed the man striding swiftly down the aisle. “You
miserable bastard,
”
 
Robert thundered, “you heard what she said! Take your filthy hands off my sister!”

Ian’s arms started to tighten protectively, but Elizabeth tore free of his grasp and ran to Robert, tears streaking down her face. “Robert, listen to me. It’s not what you think.” Robert put his arm around her shoulder, and Elizabeth started to launch into explanations. “This is Mr. Ian Thornton,” she began, “and –”

“And despite the way this looks,” Ian interrupted with amazing calm, “my intentions toward Miss Cameron are perfectly honorable.”

“You arrogant
son of a bitch!”
Robert exploded, his voice vibrating with fury and contempt. “My sister is
Countess Cameron
to the likes of you! And I don’t need an introduction. I know all about you. As to your intentions or should I say
pretensions
,
 
I wouldn’t let her marry scum like you even if she weren’t
already
betrothed.”

At those words Ian’s gaze jerked to Elizabeth. He saw the truth on her guilt-stricken face, and Elizabeth almost cried out at the cynical contempt blazing in his eyes.

“You’ve compromised my sister, you misbegotten pig and you’ll answer for it!”

Pulling his gaze from Elizabeth, Ian looked at Robert, his hard face wiped clean of all expression now. Acceding to Robert’s demand for a duel, he nodded curtly and said almost politely, “Of course.” Then he moved as if to leave.

“No!” Elizabeth cried wildly, clutching at Robert’s arm, and for the second time in twenty-four hours she found herself trying to stop someone from spilling Ian Thornton’s blood. “I won’t permit this, Robert, do you hear me? It wasn’t all his –”

“This is none of your affair, Elizabeth!” Robert snapped, too enraged to listen to her. Removing her hand from his arm, he said, “Berta is already in my carriage in the drive. Go around the far side of the house and get in with her. This man,” he said with scathing sarcasm, “and I have some things to discuss.”

“You can’t –” Elizabeth tried again, but Ian Thornton’s murderous voice stopped her cold.

“Get
out
of here!” he said between his teeth, and while Elizabeth was willing to ignore Robert’s order, Ian Thornton’s made her quake. Her chest heaving with fright, she looked at his rigid face, at the muscle leaping in his jaw, and then at Robert. Not certain whether her presence was making things worse or forestalling a calamity, she tried once again to appeal to Robert, “Please promise me you won’t do anything until tomorrow, when you’ve had time to think and we’ve talked.”

Elizabeth watched him make a herculean effort not to further terrify her and to agree with what she asked. “Fine,” he bit out. “I’ll be only a moment behind you,” he promised. “Now go on to my carriage before that crowd out there who’s been watching this whole scene decides to come in here where they can hear as well as see.”

Elizabeth felt physically ill when she stepped out of the greenhouse and saw many of the people from the ballroom gathered outdoors. Penelope was there, and Georgina and the others, and the expressions on their faces ranged from amusement among the older people to icy condemnation among the younger.

A short while later her brother strode to the chaise and climbed inside. His manner was more rigidly controlled than it had been. “The matter is settled,” he said, but regardless of how much she pleaded, he would not say more.

In helpless misery Elizabeth leaned back against the squabs, listening to Berta, who was sniffling in anticipation of the blame she felt she would ultimately receive from Lucinda Throckmorton-Jones. “My note couldn’t have reached you more than two hours ago,” Elizabeth whispered after a few minutes. “How could you have gotten here so quickly?”

“I never got your note,” he replied stiffly. “This afternoon Lucinda felt well enough to come downstairs for a bit. When I told her where you’d gone this weekend, she gave me some startling news about the sorts of goings-on your friend Charise permits at her country parties. I left three hours ago to fetch you and Berta home early. Unfortunately, I was too late.”

“It’s not as bad as you think,” Elizabeth lied lamely.

“We’ll discuss it tomorrow!” he snapped, and she slumped with relief, thinking he meant to do nothing, at least until then. “Elizabeth, how could you be such a fool? Even you should have realized the man’s a complete scoundrel! He’s not fit to . . .” He broke off and drew a long breath, striving to get control of his temper. When he spoke again he seemed more composed. “The damage, whatever it may be, has already been done. I’m to blame for this you’re too young and inexperienced to go anywhere without Lucinda to keep you out of harm’s way. I can only pray that your affianced husband will take an equally understanding view of the matter.”

It dawned on Elizabeth that this was the second time tonight that Robert had openly spoken of her engagement as if it was finalized. “Since it hasn’t been settled or made public, I can’t see why my actions should reflect on Viscount Mondevale,” she said with more hope than conviction. “If there is a little scandal, he may want to delay announcing it for a while, Robert, but I can’t think he’ll be so very embarrassed.”

“We signed the contracts today,” Robert gritted. “Mondevale and I had no difficulty agreeing on your settlement – he was extremely generous, by the way. The proud bridegroom was eager to send an announcement to the papers, and I saw no reason why he should not. It will be in the
Gazette
tomorrow.”

That piece of alarming news made Berta let out a muted sob before she lapsed again to sniffling and blowing her nose. Elizabeth squeezed her eyes closed and held back her own tears while her mind tormented her with more pressing problems than her handsome young fiancé.

In bed Elizabeth lay awake for hours, tortured with memories of the weekend and with terror that she might not be able to dissuade Robert from dueling with Ian Thornton, which she was almost certain he still meant to do. Staring up at the ceiling, she feared alternately for Robert and then for Ian. Lord Howard had made it sound as if Ian was a deadly duelist, yet Ian had refused to defend his honor when Lord Everly called him a cheat – an act many might view as cowardice. Perhaps gossip about Ian’s skill was totally wrong. Robert was a fair shot, and Elizabeth’s body grew clammy thinking of Ian, proud and alone, being felled by a ball from Robert’s pistol.
No.
She told herself she was thinking hysterically. The possibility of either of them actually shooting the other was outlandish.

Dueling was illegal, and in this instance the code of honor would dictate that Ian appear – which he’d already agreed to do in the greenhouse – and that Robert would delope fire in the air. In so doing, Ian would be tentatively admitting his guilt by putting his life in Robert’s hands, which would give Robert the satisfaction a duel provided without the bloodshed, and Robert could then delope. That was the way gentlemen usually dealt with such matters these days.

Usually.
Elizabeth’s terrified mind reminded her, but Robert’s temper was explosive, and he was so infuriated tonight that instead of raging he’d been coldly, murderously silent – and that alarmed Elizabeth more than his outburst would have done.

Shortly before dawn she fell into an uneasy slumber, only to wake what seemed like minutes later to the sound of someone moving down the hall. A servant, she thought, glancing at the window where pale rays of gray were tinting the inky night sky. She was about to drift off to sleep again when she heard the front door downstairs open and then close.

Dawn – duels. Robert had
promised
to talk to her today before doing anything, she thought hysterically, and for once Elizabeth had no trouble waking up. Fear sent her bolting from beneath the covers. Still pulling on a dressing robe, she ran flying down the stairs and jerked open the front door in time to see Robert’s carriage rounding the comer.

“Oh my
God!”
she said to the empty hall, and because she was too overwrought to wait and wonder alone, she went upstairs to awaken the one person whose good judgment could be depended upon no matter how chaotic the world became. Lucinda had been waiting up for them last night, and she knew most of what had happened this weekend, with the exception, of course, of the interlude in the gamekeeper’s cottage.

“Lucinda,” she whispered, and the gray-haired woman’s eyes opened, their pale hazel orbs alert and unclouded. “Robert has just left the house. I’m certain he means to duel with Mr. Thornton.”

Miss Lucinda Throckmorton-Jones, whose career as a duenna had heretofore included the unblemished chaperonage of the daughters of three dukes, eleven earls, and six viscounts, pushed herself upright against the pillows and gazed narrowly at the young lady who had just spoiled her brilliant record. “Inasmuch as Robert is not an early riser,” she said. “that would seem to be an obvious conclusion.”

“Whatever shall I
do?”

“For a start. I suggest you cease wringing your hands in that unbecoming fashion and then go to the kitchen and make some tea.”

“I don’t want any tea.”

“I shall require some tea if we are to wait downstairs for your brother’s return, which I foresee is what you wish to do.”

“Oh, Lucy,” Elizabeth said, looking at the gruff spinster with love and gratitude, “whatever would I do without you?”

“You would get yourself into a deal of trouble, which you have already done.” Seeing the torment in Elizabeth’s face, she relented slightly as she climbed out of bed. “Custom dictates that Thornton present himself and that your brother have the satisfaction of seeing him do it, and then Robert must delope. There’s nothing else that
can
happen.”

It was the first time in Elizabeth’s acquaintance with Lucinda that the stalwart duenna was wrong.

The clock was just chiming the hour of eight A.M. when Robert returned with Lord Howard. He stalked past the drawing room, saw Elizabeth huddled on the sofa across from Lucinda, who was doing needlework, paused, and stepped back. “What are you doing up so early?” he asked her tersely.

“Waiting for you,” Elizabeth told him, hurtling out of her chair. Lord Howard’s presence confused her for a moment, and then it hit her – Robert would have needed a second to attend the duel. “You dueled with him, didn’t you, Robert?”

“Yes!”

Elizabeth’s voice was a strangled whisper. “Is he
hurt?”
Robert stalked over to the side table and poured whiskey in a glass.

“Robert,” she cried, grabbing him by the arms. “What
happened?”

“I shot him in the arm,” Robert snapped savagely. “I was aiming for his black heart, and I missed! That’s what happened.” Shaking off Elizabeth’s hands, he downed the contents of his glass, then turned to refill it.

Sensing that there was more, Elizabeth searched his face. “Is that all?”

“No, that’s not all!” Robert exploded. “After I wounded him, that bastard lifted his pistol and stood there, making me sweat. Then he blew the tassel off the top of my goddamned boot!”

“He-he what?” Elizabeth said, recognizing Robert’s roiling fury and unable to understand it. “Surely you aren’t angry because he missed!”

“Damn it, don’t you understand anything? He
didn’t
miss! It was an insult. He stood there with blood pouring down his arm, his pistol aimed at my heart, then he changed his aim at the last possible second and shot the tassel off my boot instead. He meant to show me he
could
have killed me if he’d chosen, and everyone who was there saw it! It was the final insult, damn his rotten soul!”