Already His (The Caversham Chronicles - Book Two) (8 page)

She smiled as their gazes met. “I had a wonderful time, Lord Camden. Feel free to rescue me any time you see me such a situation again.” He nodded, then led her from the floor to a group of her friends. Silently he bowed, then he turned away and strode from the room.

Elise noticed Beverly holding court in the corner between the dais and the wall and headed toward her. And, as usual, young men of all ages found Beverly utterly charming and delightful. Elise never aspired to attract the bevy of gentleman admirers that her friend did. She only wanted one admirer. The same one she’d wanted all her life.

“M
y God,” Michael breathed as he reached the solitude of an empty retiring room upstairs. What was happening to him? He’d meant to tease Elise earlier today when he’d seen her on the steps, but couldn’t when he realized her nerves were stretched tighter than a harp wire. That had been the first clue that something was wrong with him. He’d never before held anything above tolerance for the little hellion who’d been an embarrassing thorn in his backside all those years. And now look at him! Compliments, kindness and servitude toward that termagant.

What had changed? He’d seen her in ball dresses before many times since the season began. He’d even seen her bare feet and legs as they dangled from a tree limb last summer, when he’d gone to Haldenwood to bring important contracts for Ren to sign during Lady Sewell’s recovery. It had been one of those idyllic warm spring days when the sun shone bright, beckoning all it touched to bloom.

Well, it seemed a certain flower did bloom—right before his eyes—and he’d missed it.

She’d certainly caught his attention tonight. A nymph. A natural beauty unadorned by frippery and jewels. She, in all her simple elegance,
was
the gem. If those bucks down there didn’t understand that, they didn’t deserve her.

Where had
that
thought come from? In the past he never would have considered Elise in the same category as a gem, never in a million years.

Until tonight.

Now, he found he didn’t like the idea of sharing her with anyone. What in hell was happening to him?

“No!” he whispered into the silent room.
Not that.
Dread weighed heavily on his shoulders. Whoever would’ve thought.... Certainly not he. And definitely not Ren.

“Oh, Christ!” He remembered his friend downstairs. His best friend, the man who’d grown up with him, and attended Eton and Oxford with him. The best friend who cried in his study the night he returned from India and discovered his father and pregnant stepmother died in a suspicious carriage accident.

How would he explain this to Ren? What about the very public brawl in the middle of Sabrina’s wedding all those years ago? And the promise they’d made to each other? Granted, they were eighteen years old and in university at the time, when he and Ren had sworn sisters were off limits. Ironic now because Michael proposed the promise to protect his own sister, and it was he who wanted.... God, why in the name of all that was holy did he have to want her?

He could never tell his friend he wanted to abrogate the promise they’d made to each other. He simply could not hurt Ren in that manner. And it would hurt him if Michael continued this little flirtation with his sister. Because, even though he was loathe to admit it, Ren wanted nothing more than to see his sister happily settled with a worthy man, and have a family of her own. Ren knew Michael’s every sin and vice—most of which were committed while in the company of his friend— thus eliminating him from the category “w
orthy.”
He and Ren were also into their thirties now, thus making Michael too old for the likes of Ren’s newly-launched
younger
sister.

Then there was matter of her annoying infatuation with him all these years. As a child, Elise had followed him around Haldenwood when he visited, wanting to read sonnets and poetry to him, play cards with him, or ride with him.

As she grew into a young lady, so too did her infatuation with him grow. In order to preserve the friendship with her brother, he’d thoughtfully and purposefully avoided being caught anywhere alone with her, afraid what she might do. But now he wanted nothing but to be alone with her and find out what could happen.

He stopped his racing thoughts. This was too perverse. This type of thing only happened to the characters in those sleazy serialized novels some women read. Not to upstanding members of the nobility like himself.

His mother would not approve of Elise for those same reasons he found her desirable. She often reminded him that high spirited ladies were also the ones most likely to succumb to a rogue or rake, and least likely to make a stable wife. As an example she always reminded him of his uncle and his unfaithful wife who died bearing another man’s child.

Which only reinforced the fact that toying with the notion of marrying Elise was pure foolishness, for all parties involved were sure to suffer. If this nonsense were allowed to play out, the final outcome would be a wedge in the one relationship that meant more to him than any other. He didn’t doubt it for a moment, because Ren loved his sister and would die to protect her honor. And he, Michael Dennis Brightman, now the Earl of Camden, wanted nothing more than to do all manner of
dis
honorable things with that same young woman, most of which had to do with getting that lithe, young body of hers entwined with his on a bed behind locked doors.

For her own good, he needed to cease this flirtation with her before she took his words and actions to heart and held out hope for something he could never give her. Her brother would never agree. A new resolve fell into place and straightening his waistcoat and cravat, he strode from the chamber and back to the ball. He had enough to do with trying to find the bride who would fill his nursery. He didn’t have the time or energy to help Elise find the groom who would help make hers.

So, why couldn’t he shake the feeling that they should be filling one together?

E
lise watched Michael’s departure from the room and smiled to herself. He
had
noticed her, and he
did
desire her. It was evident in his touch and in his every word to her as they danced. She couldn’t wait to get Beverly alone and tell her how thankful she was to her, her dearest friend, for helping her plan this evening and win her future husband’s heart.

Nothing could dim her spirits now that she knew it was only a matter of time before he declared himself. She would, of course, accept his suit and finally wed the man she’d dreamed of marrying forever. But until then society dictated she dance with as many of these other young men as she could before falling into exhaustion. She would sit out every waltz until she and Michael could dance one together, which would have to wait until after his mourning. After they’d left the dance floor, he fled the room, she thought to join her brother in the card room. Then Lia told her that Michael had remembered something urgent that needed tending, so he made his excuses and begged forgiveness before his early departure.

After Michael had gone, the rest of the night was unremarkable. Elise did nothing to embarrass her family, and held herself with the grace and dignity that befit her station as the oldest sister to a sitting duke. Fortunately, she was spared having to dance again with The Honorable David Sinclair, who clung to the fringes of her collected bevy of gentleman. Though, as the evening wore on, she realized Sinclair wasn’t quite the ogre she’d at first assumed him to be, and in actuality was quite intelligent. Nor did he appear to be threatened by a woman who enjoyed discussing politics and philosophy.

But she still didn’t want to dance with him again. Something in his touch filled her with a coldness, resonating through her in an unpleasant manner. It made her go out of her way to avoid touching him the rest of the night.

So after hours more of dancing, smiling, chatting, and hiding her yawns behind her hand or her fan, Elise and Beverly went up the stairs, to their respective chambers, too tired to review the evening’s event, promising to do so as soon as they woke in the morning. She wished Michael hadn’t left so soon, and wondered if she’d done something to cause him to leave right after their dance.

Elise’s final memory before falling asleep was the look of appreciation and desire in Michael’s hazel eyes, first as she descended the staircase, then later as he partnered her in their dance. She smiled to herself in the darkened room. Total happiness was within reach.

T
he next day’s gossip sheets would declare the debut of Lady Elise Halden a resounding success, and the young lady herself labeled an
incomparable
and a
diamond of the first water,
the likes of which had not been seen in the London social scene in years. Her trend-setting gown, which at first was thought to be too daring for a gently-reared young miss was hailed as more proper and practical than some worn by other ladies of the same class and age. Proper for her modest decolletage, and practical for her ankle-baring hemline which prevented the lady herself and her many dance partners from tripping on excess material.

C
HAPTER
T
HREE

S
nuggled under the eider down quilt on her bed, Elise tried, really tried to make herself fall asleep. She’d been awake all night, anticipating her next meeting with
him
. But now bright summer sunshine streamed through her open drapes, and the sounds of birds singing cheerfully in the garden below drifted in the open window drowning out the sounds of the street. Smiling to herself, she knew it must be an omen of a bright future.

Footsteps in the hall hurried toward her room. Recognizing them, she immediately bolted upright, and ran across the room to open the door before Beverly even knocked. She flung her arms around her friend, who arrived in her night robe and slippers, obviously fresh from bed herself. They squealed and jumped up and down, then danced around the room in girlish vivacity. Minutes later they fell back onto Elise’s bed, breathless.

“Did you see the way he looked at you? He was positively smitten!”

“Do you think so? I’m afraid to hope, that after all these years....”

“I watched him as you entered the room and his eyes never left you.” Beverly leaned up on an elbow and held her gaze. “At times he’d look around to make sure no one was watching him, but then his gaze would always return to you. When you walked by him, coming to the dais after the dance with your brother, you smiled, he smiled, and when you passed by his eyes caressed your backside. Whenever someone came up to chat with him, if they got in his line of sight he’d skillfully shift his position so that he’d have you back within view. In particular, he watched you closely as you danced with Mr. Sinclair.”

Rolling onto her stomach, she faced her friend. “Oh, Beverly, he said some of the most flirtatious things to me while we danced. I hope he’s forgiven me all my youthful schemings. I couldn’t bear it if he thought I hadn’t changed.”

“Well,” her friend replied, “that’s yet to be determined. But judging from what I witnessed with my own two eyes, I don’t think Lord Camden is seeing you in quite the same light as before.”

Bridget entered the room, carrying a tray of tea and breakfast for both girls. “I figured you was in here and thought you might want something to eat too.”

“Thank you, Bridget.” Elise sat up and took a piece of ham. “Whatever would I do without you?”

“Well, seein’ as I don’t plan on goin’ anywhere, you’ll never have to know, now will ye?”

Elise swallowed her bite. “Do you know if my brother and sister-in-law are up yet?”

“They’re breakfasting in their chamber and the morning papers are in the room with them.”

Beverly and Elise shared a worried glance. Her maid kindly relieved them of any fears when she plastered a smile on her freckled face. “They’re sayin’ you’re a huge success, my lady.”

Beverly expelled a long-held breath. “Really?”

“Oh, my,” Elise said. “That’s wonderful news!” Elise then looked at Bridget and chided, “See? You were worried for nothing.” Elise smiled triumphantly.

“Well, like I told Mrs. Steen,” her maid said, “the season ain’t over yet. You’ve still got time to fall on yer face.”

“I won’t, Bridget. You’ll see. I will make everyone of you proud of me.” Taking another bite in a most unladylike manner from the slice of ham she held between her fingers, Elise mumbled through a full mouth, “Most especially Lord Camden.”

O
nce breakfasted and dressed, the two young ladies went in search of the duchess. They found her seated at her desk in her morning room and greeted her as Niles left the room.

“He brought more cards.” Lia waved her hand over the stack. “This pile only gets bigger and bigger. We’ll have to decide which events to attend and which to send our regrets.” The Duchess continued to flip through the cards saying, “And the flowers! Have you looked in the front drawing room yet? It smells like grandmother’s hot house in spring.” She handed Beverly a note, saying, “It’s from your father.”

Passing the note to her friend, Elise sat in the chair before Lia’s desk. “Where is my brother? I wanted to thank you both for last night.”

“He and Michael were to meet after breakfast at that place... Ah...
come si dice? A salone para
....”