Almost Heaven (26 page)

At the time she’d thought he was talking about the note he’d sent her. But he claimed
he’d
received one. And he had jabbed at her about her handwriting, which her tutors had described as both “scholarly and precise-a credit to an Oxford gentleman!” Why would Ian Thornton think he knew what her handwriting looked like unless he truly believed he’d received such a note from her? Perhaps he really
was
mad, but Elizabeth didn’t think so. But then, she reminded herself impatiently, where he was concerned she had always been unable to see the truth. And no wonder! Even now, when she was older and hopefully wiser, it had not been easy to think clearly yesterday with those golden eyes raking over her. For the life of her she could
not
understand his attitude unless he was still angry because Robert had broken the rules and shot him. That must be it, she decided, turning her mind to the more difficult problem.

She and Lucinda were trapped there, only their host didn’t realize it, and she couldn’t bear the shame of explaining it. Therefore, she was going to have to find some way to remain here in relative harmony for the next week. In order to survive the ordeal she would simply have to ignore his inexplicable antagonism and take each moment as it came, never looking back or forward. And then it would all be over, and she and Lucinda could leave. But whatever happened during the next seven days, Elizabeth vowed, she would never again let him make her lose her composure as she had last night. The last time they’d been together he’d confused her so much that she scarcely knew right from wrong.

From this moment on, she vowed, things would be different. She would be poised and polite and completely imperturbable, no matter how rudely or outrageously he behaved. She was no longer an infatuated young girl whom he could seduce, hurt, or anger for his own amusement. She would prove it to him and also set an excellent example of how well-bred people behaved.

With that settled in her mind, Elizabeth stood up and headed for Lucinda’s room, Lucinda was already dressed, her black gown brushed free of every speck of yesterday’s dust, her gray hair in its neat bun. She was seated in a wooden chair near the window, her spine too rigid to require any support from the back of the chair, her expression thoughtful and preoccupied. “Good morning,” Elizabeth said as she carefully closed the door behind her.

“Hmmm? Oh, good morning, Elizabeth.”

“I wanted to tell you,” Elizabeth began in a rush, “how very sorry .I am to have dragged you here and subjected you to such humiliation. Mr. Thornton’s behavior was inexcusable, unforgivable.”

“I daresay he was . . . surprised by our unexpected arrival.”

“Surprised?”
Elizabeth repeated, gaping at her. “He was
demented!
I know you must think – must be wondering what could have led me to have anything at all to do with him before,” she began, “and I cannot honestly tell you what I could possibly have been thinking of.”

“Oh, I don’t find that much mystery,” said Lucinda. “He’s exceedingly handsome.”

Elizabeth would not have been more shocked if Lucinda had called him the soul of amiability. “Handsome!” she began, then she shook her head, trying to clear it. “I must say you’re being very tolerant and kind about all this.”

Lucinda stood up and cast an appraising eye over Elizabeth. “I would not describe my attitude as kind,” she thoughtfully replied. “Rather I would say it’s one of practicality. The bodice on your gown is quite tight, but attractive for all that. Shall we go down to breakfast?”

CHAPTER 13

“Good mornin” Jake boomed as Elizabeth and Lucinda walked downstairs.

“Good morning, Mr. Wiley,” Elizabeth said with a gracious smile. Then, because she could think of nothing else to say, she added quickly, “Something smells wonderful. What is it?”

“Coffee,” Ian replied bluntly, his gaze drifting over her. With her long, burnished honey hair tied back with a ribbon she looked extremely pretty and very young.

“Sit down, sit down!” Jake continued jovially. Someone had cleaned the chairs since last night, but he took out his handkerchief as Elizabeth approached and wiped off the chair seat again.

“Thank you,” she said, bestowing a smile on him. “But the chair is just fine as it is.” Deliberately she looked at the unsmiling man across from her and said, “Good morning.”

In answer he lifted a brow, as if questioning her odd change in attitude. “You slept well, I take it?”

“Very well,” Elizabeth said.

“How ‘bout some coffee?” Jake said as he hurried over to the coffee pot on the stove and filled a mug with the remainder of the steaming brew. When he got to the table with it, however he stopped and looked helplessly from Lucinda to Elizabeth, obviously not certain who ought properly to be served first.

“Coffee,” Lucinda informed him dampeningly when he took a step toward her, “is a heathen brew, unfit for civilized people. I prefer tea.”

“I’ll have coffee,” Elizabeth said hastily. Jake gave her a grateful smile, put the mug before her, then returned to the stove. Rather than look at Ian, Elizabeth stared, as if fascinated, at Jake Wiley’s back while she sipped her coffee.

For a moment he stood there, nervously rubbing the palms of his hands on the sides of his legs, looking uncertainly from the fresh eggs to the slab of bacon to the heavy iron skillet already starting to smoke near his elbow-as if he hadn’t the faintest idea how to begin. “May as well get at it.” he murmured, and he stretched his arms straight out in front of him, linked the fingers of both hands together, and made a horrible cracking sound with his knuckles. Then he snatched up the knife and began vigorously sawing at the bacon.

While Elizabeth watched in puzzled interest he tossed large chunks of bacon into the skillet until it was heaped with it. A minute later the delicious smell of bacon began to waft about the room, and Elizabeth felt her mouth water, thinking how good breakfast was going to be. Before the thought had fully formed she saw him pick up two eggs, crack them open on the edge of the stove, and dump them into the skillet full of raw bacon. Six more eggs followed in rapid succession, then he turned and looked over his shoulder. “D’you think I shoulda let the bacon cook a wee bit longer before I dumped in the eggs, Lady Elizabeth?”

“I-I’m not completely certain,” Elizabeth admitted, scrupulously ignoring the smirking satisfaction on Ian’s tanned face.

“D’you want to have a look at it and tell me what you think?” he asked, already sawing off chunks of bread.

With no choice but to offer her uneducated advice or submit to Ian’s relentlessly mocking stare, Elizabeth chose the former, got up, and went to peer over Mr. Wiley’s shoulder.

“How does it look to you?”

It looked to Elizabeth like large globs of eggs congealing in unappetizing bacon fat. “Delicious.”

He grunted with satisfaction and turned to the skillet, this time with both hands loaded with bread chunks, which he was obviously considering adding to the mess. “What do you think?” he asked, his hands hovering over the pile of cooking food. “Should I dump this in there?”

“No!” Elizabeth said hastily and with force. “I definitely think the bread should be served . . . well . . .”

“Alone,” Ian Thornton said in an amused drawl, and when Elizabeth automatically looked toward his voice she discovered that he’d turned halfway around in his chair to watch her.

“Not
entirely
alone,” Elizabeth put in, feeling as if she ought to contribute additional advice on the meal preparation rather than show herself as ignorant of cooking as she actually was. “We could serve it with-with butter?”

“Of course! I shoulda thought of that,” he said with a sheepish grin at Elizabeth. “If you don’t mind standin’ here and keepin’ your eye on what’s happenin’ in this skillet, I’ll go fetch it from the cold keg.”

“I don’t mind in the least,” Elizabeth assured him, absolutely refusing to acknowledge the fact that Ian’s relentless gaze was boring holes through her back. Since little of import was likely to happen to the contents of the skillet for several minutes, Elizabeth regretfully faced the fact that she couldn’t continue avoiding Ian Thornton – not when she desperately needed to smooth things over enough to convince him to let her and Lucinda remain for the allotted week.

Straightening reluctantly, she strolled about the room with forced nonchalance, her hands clasped behind her back, looking blindly at the cobwebs in the corner of the ceiling, trying to think what to say. And then inspiration struck. The solution was demeaning but practical, and properly presented, it could appear she was graciously doing him a favor. She paused a moment to arrange her features into what she hoped was the right expression of enthusiasm and compassion, then she wheeled around abruptly. “Mr. Thornton!” Her voice seemed to explode in the room at the same time his startled amber gaze riveted on her face, then drifted down her bodice, roving boldly over her ripened curves. Unnerved but determined, Elizabeth forged shakily ahead: “It appears as if no one has occupied this house in quite some time.”

“I commend you on that astute observation, Lady Cameron,” Ian mocked lazily, watching the tension and emotion play across her expressive face. For the life of him he could not understand what she was doing here or why she seemed to be trying to ingratiate herself this morning. Last night the explanation he’d given Jake had made sense; now, looking at her, he couldn’t quite believe any of it. Then he remembered that Elizabeth Cameron had always robbed him of the ability to think rationally.

“Houses do have a way of succumbing to dirt when no one looks after them,” she stated with a bright look.

“Another creditable observation. You’ve certainly a quick mind.”

“Must you make this so very difficult!” Elizabeth exclaimed.

“I apologize,” he said with mocking gravity. “Do go on. You were saying?”

“Well, I was thinking, since we’re quite stranded here Lucinda and I, I mean – with absolutely
nothing
but time on our hands, that this house could certainly use a woman’s touch.”

“Capital idea!” burst out Jake, returning from his mission to locate the butter and casting a highly hopeful look at Lucinda.

He was rewarded with a glare from her that could have pulverized rock. “It could use an army of servants carrying shovels and wearing masks on their faces,” the duenna countered ruthlessly.

“You needn’t help, Lucinda,” Elizabeth explained, aghast. “I never meant to imply you should. But I could! I –” She whirled around as Ian Thornton surged to his feet and took her elbow in a none-too-gentle grasp.

“Lady Cameron,” he said, “I think you and I have something to discuss that may be better spoken in private. Shall we?”

He gestured to the open door and then practically dragged her along in his wake. Outdoors in the sunlight he marched her forward several paces, then dropped her arm. “Let’s hear it,” he said.

“Hear what?” Elizabeth said nervously.

“An explanation – the truth, if you’re capable of it. Last night you drew a gun on me, and this morning you’re awash with excitement over the prospect of cleaning my house. I want to know why.”

“Well,” Elizabeth burst out in defense of her actions with the gun, “you were
extremely
disagreeable!”

‘I am
still
disagreeable,” he pointed out shortly, ignoring Elizabeth’s raised brows. “
I
haven’t changed. I am not the one who’s suddenly oozing goodwill this morning.”

Elizabeth turned her head to the lane, trying desperately to think of an explanation that wouldn’t reveal to him her humiliating circumstances.

“The silence is deafening, Lady Cameron, and somewhat surprising. As I recall, the last time we met you could scarcely contain all the edifying information you were trying to impart to me.” Elizabeth knew he was referring to her monologue on the history of hyacinths in the greenhouse. “I just don’t know where to begin,” she admitted.

“Let’s stick to the salient points. What are you doing here?”

“That’s a little awkward to explain,” Elizabeth said. So off balance from his reference to the hyacinths was she that her mind went blank, and she said disjointedly, “My uncle is acting as my guardian now. He is childless, so everything he has will go to my child. I can’t have any until I’m married, and he wants the matter settled with the least possible
exp-time,”
she amended hastily. “He’s an impatient man, and he thinks I’ve taken too long to – well, settle down. He doesn’t completely understand that you can’t just pick out a few people and force someone – me – to make a choice from them.”

“May I ask why the hell he would think I have any desire to marry you?”

Elizabeth wished she could sink into the ground and disappear. “I think,” she said, choosing her words with great care in hope of preserving what little was left of her pride, “it was because of the duel. He heard about it and misunderstood what precipitated it. I tried to convince him it was merely a-a weekend flirtation, which of course it was, but he would not listen. He’s rather stubborn and – well,
old,”
she finished lamely. “In any case, when your message arrived inviting Lucinda and me to join you, he made me come here.”

“It’s a shame you wasted a trip, but it’s hardly a tragedy. You can turn around and go right back.”