Already His (The Caversham Chronicles - Book Two) (5 page)

Today he smiled. Which irritated
her
. Though in his favor, everything was irritating her on this day, and knew she really needed to temper her thoughts before getting on her horse. The excitable little mare was doing well, and Elise really didn’t want to end up on the ground because she couldn’t control her own emotions.

Michael’s light gray fine wool coat bore a black velvet mourning arm band to match the collar. The fabric stretched across his shoulders as though it was pasted onto his broad back. A silver satin waistcoat adorned with onyx buttons hugged his trim waist. Her breathing stilled as she could almost imagine him unbuttoning them, to relax over a game of cards or chess. What she wouldn’t give to have him relax in such a manner with her.

Even in mourning, this man looked every bit the handsome rogue. His buff-yellow nankeen breeches looked as though his well-muscled thighs were poured into them, without a wrinkle in sight. She surmised that his fine boots probably took his valet hours to polish to their mirror shine.

She tried—really, really tried—to appear bored and disinterested in his presence, even so far as feigning interest in the traffic on the street. Elise knew she more than likely was not succeeding.

He came up and greeted them. His smile warm and genuine.

Beverly curtsied and said, “Good morning, Lord Camden.”

“Yes,” Elise said when she turned to face him, bobbing a quick curtsy. “Good morning, my lord.” She immediately turned away, as though staring down the street would bring the grooms out of the mews faster.

He nodded to them. “It is turning into a beautiful day, ladies,” Michael replied. “I’d begun to despair after waking to a fog so thick I was unable to see across my garden.” He came to stand beside them, and asked, “Out for a ride on this fine morning?”

His proximity made her more nervous, causing her heart to beat faster. Elise’s naturally sarcastic tongue blurted out the first thing that came to her head. “No. We just thought we’d watch the traffic pass by in our best riding habits.”

Beverly elbowed her and shot her a warning glare. Turning her full smile back to Michael, she said, “You must forgive her, my lord. Tonight’s festivities have left my friend on tenterhooks and those she loves most have been the recipients of her stinging retorts all morning. I am hoping this outing will bring back the sweet disposition I know Elise to have.”

Elise just stared, slack-jawed at the excuses for
her
behavior pouring from her friend’s mouth. She wished it were possible to kick herself for those words—once for thinking them, and once for saying them. Why, oh why, did she always turn her sarcastic tongue on the only man she wanted to impress with her changed ways?

“Yes,” Michael replied, giving her a sympathetic smile. “Let’s hope this ride rids Lady Elise of her nerves before the evening’s big event.” Turning to Elise, he smiled. “Just remember to breathe deeply and relax. All will turn out well.”

“Easy for you to say. It’s not
your
debut!” She did it again, snapped at him when she wanted to entice him. She wanted him to see the new Elise. Why was it so difficult to change? She’d never win him over if she didn’t.

“You’re right, it’s not. But I’m trying to help here, Elise.”

“You can’t help, when you’re part of the problem.” Immediately she slapped her hand over her mouth, embarrassed by her words. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said.... Oh, dear.” She felt her body tremble and her eyes well with burning tears. She swallowed the lump that rose and words of apology rushed out of her. “I’m sorry, my lord. You would think because of all the preparations we made last year, that I would not be so nervous now. But, since the start of the season, I have felt somewhat left out, attending everyone else’s ball when I hadn’t had my own yet.”

Michael nodded his head. “If I could I would offer to dance with you, but as you know....”

“Yes, I know,” Elise said. “Your family is in mourning.”

“But if I were not, I would love a dance.”

He appeared sincere, and not in his normal teasing manner. Elise wondered if he were feeling well because he was usually ripe to pick on her when she was in a snit like a moment ago. Not letting this new, compassionate mood of his slip by she said, “I will hold you to that, my lord.”

He nodded. “Absolutely do, We can even make it a waltz if you have permission.”

“Of course I have permission,” she said. But the sarcastic tone with which she’d begun her reply quickly died. “We got it last year just before.... Um, before we....” Elise stopped, remembering that day the family had planned to leave for London and last year’s season. Grandmother had taken a tumble down the main stairs, striking her head, knocking her unconscious. For almost a week they held vigil over her, hoping she would awaken. Their prayers were answered when one afternoon she opened her eyes, thus beginning her long recovery. As a result Elise missed her first season.

“That’s right,” he said quickly. “Grandmother was recovering.”

Elise nodded, unable to speak as she was still ashamed at her outburst. And now she had the added emotion of remembering the pain at nearly losing her grandmother.

“All is well now,” Michael said with a smile. “Lady Sewell is in prime form, ready to take on the Season with you and your family.” He winked at her, causing her to return his smile. “I know the season will be over by then, but in three months we can have our waltz.”

The three of them watched as the grooms led the horses forward—mares for Elise and Beverly, and a quiet gelding for the groom following as guard. Michael tipped his head and bid them a delightful ride.

Once mounted and away from the house and the groom, Beverly turned her curly blond head to Elise, her eyes reproachful. “That was better. You started off sounding shrewish, but recovered when he mentioned the family foregoing the season last year.”

The mares walked on a relaxed rein toward the park entrance. “Remembering grandmother’s accident brought back the fear and emotions from those weeks when we didn’t know if she would survive. It still causes me upset.”

“Or were you tongue-tied because you were surprised to find Michael being polite to you?” Beverly turned to look at her. They rode through the park’s gated entrance, and her friend added, “Remember, you must give him a reason to want to be in your presence, or else all is lost.”

“I know you are right. Over and over in my head I go through every scenario possible with him and plan how I would comport myself in that situation. Inevitably, I never do what I rehearsed and my sarcastic mouth just takes over.” It was times like this when Elise thought she would drown in her despair.

“Do you remember what Mrs. Pritchard taught us to do in those situations?”

Elise shook her head. With her brain in the barn her entire life, Elise never paid much attention to their comportment teacher. Which was why she was in this predicament in the first place.

Beverly went on. “She said to close our eyes and count to three before we reply. First, you’ll appear more intelligent—as though you’d thought your answer through before replying. Second, it will make you appear less like a bounding colt and more the refined lady you should be. And isn’t that what we all struggle to portray? Images of serene, intelligent ladies?”

“Not everyone,” Elise replied. “I certainly don’t see those Corrigan girls attempting to appear more intelligent, and look at all the bucks circling them each night!”

“We should be so lucky.”

Elise nodded and they both laughed as they followed the bridle path, keeping their horses at a walk, preferring to wait until they reached the far side of the Serpentine to race—away from the prying eyes and condemning glances of the others taking in the morning sunshine. But Elise’s mind wasn’t on the lovely morning, or even the Corrigan girls and all their many beau.

“I cannot believe he said he would actually waltz with me when he comes out of mourning.” She looked over at her friend and smiled. “I now have three months to perfect my dance.”

Elise sighed. She had to change. She had to temper her thoughts, her words, and her actions. It was the only way for anyone to really believe she was different. That she had grown up. Or, as Beverly said, all would be lost, because the new Lord Camden would just marry someone else.

With a slight flick of the wrist, she gave a light tap of her crop behind the girth of her off-side, which sent her mare bounding forward, leaving her friend and her groom staring at her back.

M
ichael Brightman, the new twelfth Earl of Camden, strode into the dining room at Caversham House, an unusual cheer rising within. Likely because it was a weekend, and there was nothing needing his attention until Monday morning. It definitely didn’t have anything to do with seeing the little hellion out front. The fact that she was nervous about the night ahead told him she at least cared enough to present herself in a manner that would make her family proud. Could it be she was growing up?

The little hellion, all grown up. Shocking thought that. Hopefully it meant no more romantic interest in him. He stumbled over the edge of a folded carpet, and caught himself on the door jamb.

Michael laughed at his clumsiness, then smiled and greeted Ren and Lia, as he did most mornings when they were all in Town.

“Good morning Your Grace,” he said to the duchess, “you are looking radiantly beautiful as usual.”

“I’m sorry about all the disarray, my lord,” the Duchess of Caversham replied. “I have been assured all the carpets and boxes from the decorations will be out of the hallway before the festivities begin this evening.”

He turned to his old friend and said, “And you look... just as you always do these days, like you want to strangle someone.” Michael proceeded to pile a plate high with eggs, kippers, and bacon, then took a seat across from the duchess and next to Ren. “So, who is it you want to kill this time?”

“My sister perhaps? She’s been pain in my backside this past week.”

“Leave her be, husband,” the duchess warned. “Her behavior is to be expected considering tonight is
her
ball. Since the season began, we’ve attended everyone else’s parties. Tonight is
her
night.”

Michael knew what a strong-willed chit Elise could be when her mind was set on something, so he had to sympathize with his friend on this. Except she was off this morning. Like a slightly lame horse, where you can’t tell exactly where the thing is bothered, she was just... off.

“She was looking rather piqued just now,” Michael commented. “Hopefully an invigorating ride will settle her.” He swallowed a mouthful of food. “You can tell she’s nervous. She’s snapping like a shrew, and.... Wait, she’s always like that.” He winked at Ren. Michael actually found the whole discourse refreshing. Elise’s discomposure, while not something he’d laugh at, was out of the ordinary for her. So the stress of the night’s festivities was starting to wear on her. At least he was able to calm her before she mounted the mare. He’d hate to see her injured or worse because she wasn’t paying attention while riding her horse. Elise didn’t ride tractable, quiet horses. No. She trained as she rode, so she rode horses that would be problems for most riders.

But the good thing about tonight was Elise was now on the marriage mart. Soon she would be locked away in the country at some poor fop’s estate, bearing offspring to continue that man’s lineage.

He remembered his mother’s departing words yesterday, and it only served to pressure him to fulfill his duty now that he had the title. He was, after all, the last male in a family of eleven women. She reminded him of the fact that the title would not just go into abeyance, it would, in fact die with him if he didn’t see to finding a wife and begetting his own heirs.

Still, Michael smiled. Lucky for him he had a three month reprieve to mourn his uncle before starting his search for a suitable bride. He wondered if this paragon of ladylike virtue, if she even existed, would mind if he continued his tradition of breakfast with his friends before work.

“Like I said before,” Ren replied, “I can’t wait to hand her off to some unsuspecting chap and get her out of my hair. She’s put more gray on my head this past year than I ever gave our father.”

“Husband!” Her Grace chided.

“Oh, you don’t mean that and you know it,” Michael said with confidence. “The gray hairs part might be true, but handing her off to some young, dunder-headed prig? That’s not what she needs. Elise requires someone who will appreciate her spirit and charm.” He lifted a forkful of egg to his mouth. “Not some spineless ninny or worse someone who will break her to his will like a horse to saddle.”

Where did
that
come from? Why was he defending Elise? Looking out for her well-being? The disconcerting, gnawing feeling he’d experienced just now struck a chord in him. An irritating one, at that. He was not going to feel sorry for the girl. She sat a horse better than he, and was almost as good a shot with a pistol as he. Why, she was probably even a decent card and billiard player as well. He already knew she played a fair game of chess and backgammon.

She was a sporting lady. Not one of those simpering women one was compelled to feel sorry for. The chit was, and always had been, a nuisance—fancying herself in love with him since she could string a sentence together. So numerous were the times she had placed herself in his path either to annoy him or, as she grew older hoping to catch his eye, that he could not count. Though in all honesty she hadn’t done so in several years. At least not since her grandmother had moved in with them and Ren married. Her grandmother, her brother’s wife, and her house guest, Lady Beverly Hepplewhite, all seemed to be very good influences on Elise. And Michael had to admit he hadn’t seen much of her since she started on this horse project of hers.