Anne Barbour (30 page)

"Eden," said Seth almost simultaneously. "As repugnant as the idea must be to you of a runaway marriage on the part of your sister—and I will freely admit, the situation is far from my liking, as well—I'm afraid we're going to have to accept it."

Eden whirled on him, ready to do battle, but Seth stepped forward to place both hands on her shoulders. "Please, my dear, do not do this to yourself. You must allow yourself a period of calm reflection. It is still early in the day, and we have time to make decisions. Zoë, why do you not take Eden upstairs where she may refresh herself. Then we can decide what must be done." Over Eden's head, he shot a minatory glance at Zoë, who moved to take Eden's arm.

The look Eden turned on Seth was anything but reconciled, but she allowed Zoë to lead her from the room.

"Phew!" Bel grinned and gestured Seth to a chair. "What a termagant." He poured a tankard of ale for Seth from the pitcher Seth had seen earlier in his lodgings in London, and filled the matching mug for himself. He flung himself into a chair opposite the one taken by Seth. "I'm thinking of taking Zoë to The Priory in a few days," he said, rather in the manner of one throwing down a gauntlet. "It is only right that she become acquainted with her new home. I'll have to notify Aunt Shipstead to meet us there to do the pretty—be with her to receive the county gentry and all that."

Seth uttered a mirthless bark of laughter. "Is this really you, spouting proprieties?" Seth paused a moment, then blurted, "Good Lord, Bel, what possessed you to marry the chit?"

Bel set the goblet down carefully and rose to stand over his brother. "Seth, I'll thank you to remember you're speaking of my bride. If you can't infuse some respect into your tone, you will leave my house."

Surprised, Seth stared up at Bel. His eyes, as they always did when he was displeased, had turned from blue to a menacing gun-metal gray, but there was no sign of the rage that usually displayed itself at the first sign of his displeasure.

"All right," Bel said after a pause. "At first, I planned to seduce Zoë—just like all the others. But, on reflection—well, I just couldn't do it. For, you see, Zoë isn't anything like the others. She loves me. She really loves
me.
Not the heir to the Duke of Derwent—although she freely admits being much taken with the idea of becoming a duchess some day—or a dashing profligate with blue eyes and yellow curls, but me, Charlie Lindow, with all my faults and flaws. You might as well get this through your head, Seth. I love Zoë. Given my record, I probably won't make the best husband in the world, but I'll try to make her happy. And nothing you or Papa or Zoë's family can do will change that."

Seth felt almost shamed. Bel's voice rang with a simple sincerity he had never heard there before. Could it be that Zoë— flighty, self-absorbed, pampered Zoë—would prove to be Bel's redemption?

He could scarce credit the idea, but could see no point in antagonizing Bel further at this point. Sighing, he sought to lighten the moment. His attention was caught by the dull gleam of Seth's mug. It seemed to wink mockingly in the shaft of late afternoon sunlight that slanted through the long windows of the drawing room.

"I see you brought your new toy with you." Seth gestured toward the cup. "You must be extraordinarily taken with it."

Bel chuckled, an uncomplicated expression of contentment that stirred Seth unexpectedly. "Mm, yes. As you see, I use it not just for ale, but wine and spirits as well. Actually, I've come to look on it as a good luck charm of sorts. I met Zoë not long after I acquired it, and since it's been in my possession I've ... well, I know it sounds absurd, but I feel... not happy exactly, but better—more at peace with myself and the rest of the world. Partly, I guess, because my headaches have diminished appreciably. It's a pure blessing to be free of them once in a while."

"Were they truly so bad?"

"God, yes. Some days, I thought I might scream with the pain. I took laudanum—even tried opium—with little success."

"I didn't realize," murmured Seth, thinking that there was possibly a great deal about Bel that he had not known. He smiled. "In that case, you'd better take precious care of it. It's strange-looking stuff. You say the glaze is made from some sort of metal?"

"Yes. Discovered in the last year or so. It starts with an L, I think. Liddimum ... or Lyrium ... or, no! Settler called it lithium. Said it means stone in Greek."

"Ah," murmured Seth. "Appropriate."

The conversation turned to more general topics, then, and it was not long before Zoë and Eden returned. Eden was still pale and drawn, but appeared composed and resigned to her little sister's new status. Bel announced his plan to bring Zo6 to The Priory and invited Eden and Seth to join them.

"You might as well stay with us, now that you've arrived." He turned to Seth. "There's no hunting now, of course, but if you'd like, we could probably bring down a few rabbits."

"Yes, I'd love to act as chaperon," put in Zoë with a grin.

"Oh, no!" replied Eden. "I must return home. Mama and Papa will be beside themselves. I must tell you, I am still not convinced that this absurd marriage—"

She was interrupted by the sound of loud, angry voices boiling from the direction of the front hall. As they drew nearer, the duke's booming baritone could be discerned, responding irritably to another, apparently in the throes of a furious tirade.

"I tell you," roared the latter, "I shan't be put off! If m'daughter is here, by God, your boy is going to marry her, if I have to—"

The drawing room door flew open and two gentlemen, much disheveled and distraught, burst into the room.

"Father!" cried the Lindow brothers in unison.

"Papa!" screamed the Beckett sisters, blanching perceptibly.

Chapter Twenty-three

For a few moments, chaos reigned in the drawing room of the Marquess of Belhaven's hunting box. The voices of six highly wrought persons were raised in cacophony. The most incensed of these was undoubtedly that of Lord Beckett, who, upon entering the room, strode to his youngest daughter and proceeded to shake her until her head seemed in danger of flying from her shoulders. Next, he moved to the marquess, and, were not for Seth's intervention, would have pummeled him insensible.

"You bastard!" bellowed his lordship, oblivious of the ladies present. "Did you think to ruin my daughter? My precious jewel? By God, sirrah, you are a scapegrace and a cad, and you will wed her or suffer the consequences."

"By God, indeed he will not!" roared the duke. "At least..." He paused in some confusion. "He
will
marry your daughter, but not
that
flibbertigibbet!" He pointed an accusing finger at Zoë.

At this, Bel entered the fray, advancing on his father in a menacing fashion. Seth was forced to abandon Lord Beckett, transferring his protection to the duke. Zoë and Eden took up the slack by wrapping their arms around their father and gradually forcing him backward, and eventually into a chair.

Seth then addressed himself to calming the duke, and at last the two gentlemen each were forced to a modicum of reason in comfortable chairs at a prudent distance from one another.

"Now, then," said Seth, "it seems there are one or two misapprehensions that must be cleared up. First of all—" He bowed to Lord Beckett and the duke. "Allow me to present to Your Grace and my lord, the Marquess and Marchioness of Belhaven." He swept an arm in the direction of Bel and Zoë, who had retreated to a settee, where they sat, arms entwined.

At this, disorder broke out again. The two older gentlemen once more leaped to their feet and began speaking both at once. Bel rose.

"It is true. Father," he said to the duke. "We were married early this morning, in church. By the vicar. With a valid license. We are," he continued, warming to his subject, "husband and wife in the eyes of God and the law, and there's nothing you can do about it." He glared pugnaciously.

At his words, however, the belligerence suddenly evaporated from Lord Beckett's countenance.

"Married?" His small eyes glittered. "Zoë, you and the marquess are married? Why, that makes you—"

"Yes, Papa." Zoë bounced from the settee to dance across the room to her father, whereupon she dropped a kiss atop his thinning hair. "Is it not famous?" she caroled. "I am the Marchioness of Belhaven and shall someday be the Duchess of Derwent. Not that I am in a hurry to claim my position," she assured His Grace kindly.

"Married!" roared the duke. "I won't have it! I don't care if you stood up in St. Paul's with the Archbishop of Canterbury in attendance, I'll find a way to scotch it. I'll have it annulled! I'll—"

"I'm afraid that's impossible. Father," interposed Seth. "Zoë is of age and, no matter what you might think, of sound mind. Bel informs me that the union has been, er, consummated, and I believe, from the number of by-blows we're already supporting, he cannot be proved impotent. Now, then—" He bent to speak low in the duke's ear. "It seems to me this circumstance solves our problem nicely. Zoë may not be the bride you might have chosen for Bel, but she is gently bred and Bel appears to have formed an affection for her that may, if we are fortunate, prove lasting. The thing to remember here is that Bel is actually married and with any luck will produce a son or two in short order. I think you should accept this with good grace."

Eden could only watch in cold wonder as Seth, obviously with long practice, manipulated the duke into a state of reasoned calm. The older man was actually smiling by the time Seth turned away from him to face the rest of the company.

She stood for a moment, apart from the group, irresolute. As horrified as she was at the thought of Zoë married to Bel, there was little she could do, particularly since Papa was obviously in transports at the news.

At any rate, perhaps she could prevail upon the duke and her father to return to London. She could accompany them back to town, thus avoiding the journey with Seth.

But, no. She turned her attention back to the now convivial group to find that the duke and Papa had phased into a mood of mutual congratulation.

"I knew this would all work out satisfactorily," said the duke with what Eden could only consider a fatuous grin. He poked Seth slyly in the ribs. "I'll wager you had it planned out all along, you crafty young devil. Convincing me that while Bel might not suit Miss Zoë"—he dropped a wink at Seth in appreciation of his diplomatic phrasing of the situation—"he might do very well for Miss Beckett."

Seth, with one horrified glance at Eden, turned white.

"N-no!" he croaked, but the duke plowed on. "When all the time you knew how things stood between Bel and Miss Zoë." He rubbed his hands together. "I think this calls for champagne. Have you anything decent in your cellars, my boy?" he asked Bel.

Broom was sent for. His response was so prompt, it might have been supposed he was lurking in the corridor, waiting for the sound of the bell. The champagne was ordered, and in a few moments, plans were under way for a celebratory dinner at the local inn.

Eden had never felt so conspicuously isolated and unwanted. She had not needed confirmation of Seth's duplicity, but hearing the words spoken so casually by the duke caused a well of pain to open in her heart that threatened to overwhelm her. She felt she had to get out of this place. She looked around wildly and moved toward Bel. Perhaps she might prevail upon him to put a carriage at her disposal to get her back to town.

She was intercepted by a solid obstacle in the form of Seth Lindow. His face was still pale, his eyes stricken.

"Eden," he said, his voice low and intense. "What you just heard was not— That is, if you'll just let me explain—"

"No explanation is required, sir," Eden replied tightly. "I had already been apprised of your machinations on your father's behalf."

"What!"

"His Grace was good enough to divulge them to my father, who relayed them to me as he sought to impress upon me my good fortune in being chosen as your brother's bride."

"Oh, God." Seth thought he would be sick. He grasped Eden's arm. He had to make her understand! "Eden, please. I must speak to you."

"I can't think why. You have achieved your ends. You have found a bride for your wretched brother. That in doing so you have destroyed the life of an innocent young girl will, of course, not weigh with you. No, thank you, Mr. Lindow, I do not wish to listen any further to your persuasive speeches. They have done enough damage to this family."
And to me!
she almost cried out. Instead, she drew herself up coolly. "If you would request of the marquess the use of a carriage to return me to town, I would be most grateful."

"No, wait, Eden. You must let me— Look," he continued desperately as Eden continued to gaze at him as though he had just crawled out from beneath a lettuce leaf. The trouble was, he reflected gloomily, she was right. His behavior had been beneath contempt, and how he was to restore himself in her esteem he had no idea. He only knew he must try. "Please just give me fifteen minutes. If you still wish to leave then, I shall arrange the whole thing."

Eden glanced at the group conversing genially nearby. She had no wish to create a scene, and she supposed she could listen to Seth for fifteen minutes without becoming physically ill. Twisting her arm from his grasp, she nodded, and followed him from the room.

A few moments later, she was seated in a wing chair in what was apparently a library, although only a few books rested on the shelves that lined the room. Seth paced the floor before her.

"Eden," he began at last, "I can't deny that what my father said was true. I suppose you were also told that my purpose in visiting Clearsprings last month was not just to buy horses but to meet Zoë."

"Yes." Eden found it difficult to speak beyond the tears that gathered in her throat, but she managed to keep her voice steady. "Not just to meet her, of course, but to assess her points."

Seth squirmed, but having decided to tell her the whole, he plunged ahead. In a few moments he bared everything from his conversation with the duke all those weeks ago, to the wearisome day he had spent trying to talk the duke out of his plans for Eden.