Christie Kelley (14 page)

“Lord Selby!”

Damn.
Miss Olivia Roebuck, the biggest thorn in his side this Season, rushed over to him. Her mother followed quickly behind.

“Lord Selby, what a coincidence running into you here,” she said excitedly. “Whatever are you doing here?”

“I’m returning from my estate in Southwold. I just received word of the Duke of Kendal’s death.”

She flipped an ironed curl back from her face. “That is why we must return also. But it will be nice to have another chance to socialize with my peers.”

Before she could say anything else foolish, one of the serving girls came up with a tray for him. “Milord, do you wish me to take this up to your w—”

“No,” he interrupted before she could say the word
wife.
The last thing he needed was either gossipy Roebuck interfering with his life. “I shall take the tray upstairs myself.”

The girl handed him the tray with a nod and returned to the kitchen.

“My, that is a lot of food for one person,” Miss Roebuck said. Her mother frowned but nodded just the same.

“Is your sister with you?” Mrs. Roebuck asked.

Now that was a question. If he lied and said yes, they might find out exactly where Jennette had been—at Lord Durham’s country party. If he said no, they would think he was a glutton. Gluttony won.

“No,” he finally replied. “You must excuse me. I should eat while the food is warm.”

“You may join us,” Miss Roebuck offered, batting her golden eyelashes at him.

“I really must not. I have some papers I need to review before I leave. Good day.”

The women mumbled their replies as he walked back upstairs. Avis really didn’t need to know that the Roebucks were here. She might become aggravated thinking they might see her with him. It was far better to keep this quiet.

He entered the room slowly. She had changed into a blue traveling gown, fixed her hair, and sat ramrod straight in the chair by the window. She turned her head as he walked in.

“The dining room is full of people. Unfortunately, some we both know.”

“Dare I guess, it’s the back door for me again?” she asked bitterly.

“Unless you prefer we walk down the front stairs together.”

She blasted him a glare. “I do not believe we shall do that.”

He shrugged. “I thought not.”

Olivia Roebuck excused herself from the dining table. “I need to speak with the proprietor to inquire on my glove. I should hate to think I had lost one of my best gloves here.”

“I shall go with you then,” her mother said, stuffing more eggs in her mouth.

“No, Mother. You need to finish your breakfast.” Her mother loved her food, to excess. “The desk is just over there,” she said, pointing toward the hall. “I will be within sight the entire time.”

“Very well,” her father replied. He also seemed to be in no mood to miss a meal.

Olivia rose from her seat and proceeded to the desk. That disgusting Mr. Owens sat behind the counter, sorting through papers. The one thing she needed was right on top.

“Miss Roebuck, is there something I can do for ye?”

“Oh, Mr. Owens,” she said in a wispy voice as she fluttered her eyelashes at him. All men loved when she did that. Except the one man she wanted more than any other. “I lost my silk glove here. Could you look around and see if any of your maids took it? By accident, of course.”

“They dam—darned well better hope they didn’t take one of yer precious gloves.”

“Please,” she begged prettily.

He stared at the cleavage she showed by leaning over the tall desk and pressing her arms to the sides her breasts. It must have worked.

“Of course. I’ll be back in a moment.”

He walked back toward the kitchens, giving her just a moment to twirl the register around and glance down. She scanned the list but could not find Selby’s name. She continued through the past few days until her finger paused by Talbot. That was his surname, but why would he use that instead of his title. Her eyes widened in realization.

Mr. and Mrs. Talbot.

Lord Selby must have a woman with him. Her mind wheeled with the possibilities. A slow cat-like smile tilted her lips up as a plan started to form. An excellent plan. But she would need an accomplice to complete the deed, and after a moment of thought, she knew just the woman who could help. The one woman who despised Selby, the most proper of all the spinsters in her little club—Miss Avis Copley.

With Miss Copley’s unknowing assistance, her plot would work perfectly. Olivia stifled a laugh. And she would be Lady Selby before the end of the summer.

“Good evening, my lord,” Battenford said.

“Banning!” Jennette shouted from the top of the stairs. She raced down the marble stairs and threw herself into his arms. “I am so glad you’re home.”

“Well, this is an unusual welcome.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, pulling away. “It has been a very dreadful week.”

“How are Lady Elizabeth and her sisters?” he asked, removing his gloves and hat. Handing them to his butler, he moved toward the salon. He poured a brandy for them both and shoved away the memories of doing the same with Avis.

“They are as well as can be expected. I think poor Elizabeth is the worst. At least her sisters have their husbands and families, while she has no one now.”

Jennette reached for the brandy snifter and took a long draught. Unlike Avis, his sister had no issues drinking brandy.

“Well, that is to be expected,” he said, giving her a pointed look. “It is one of the reasons I want you to marry. I don’t want you to be alone.”

She waved his hand at him in dismissal. “I do have my friends. Although, that is another reason why I’m quite upset.”

“Why?”

“It’s Avis. She told her butler she’d decided to go away with Elizabeth. But Elizabeth joined her cousin at Durham’s country party. No one has seen Avis in close to a fortnight.” She bit down on her bottom lip.

Well, not quite no one. “She probably ensconced herself in a small village to write for a few weeks. She will most likely show up any day.” Or minute.

“I hope you are correct. I am considering hiring a Bow Street Runner to investigate. What has me worried is that she hates to travel. It makes her dreadfully ill. I had to beg her to attend the Kesgrave party with me in a fortnight.”

A shot of disappointment ran through him. He’d only been teasing her about the pregnancy, knowing it was too soon to know. Still, a part of him would have been quite pleased if it were true.

“Don’t hire anyone just yet. She’s bound to come around.”

A footman entered the room and handed a message to Jennette. She unfolded the note and smiled. Looking up at him, she laughed. “You were right. I asked one of Avis’s footmen to inform me of her return. It appears she has arrived home this very evening.”

“Indeed.” He drained his brandy and stood to take his leave. “I believe I shall retire early. Goodnight, Jennette.”

“Hmm, goodnight, Banning. I must inform Avis about the duke’s death.”

“She knows.” His feet stopped moving. He hadn’t just said those words in front of his inquisitive sister.

“How could she possibly know?”

He tried to keep the heat from creeping across his face, but it didn’t seem to work. “How could she not know? Everyone in England is talking about it, even at the inn where I stayed. No doubt that is what drew her back to town.”

“Perhaps you are right.”

He’d best leave before he let anything else slip. Refusing to look back at his sister, he strode from the room and up to his bedroom. He’d never felt so utterly disgusted with everything in his life. He never understood how people could whine about life being so difficult; life had been easy, until he decided to marry Avis.

The idea that she didn’t want to wed made no sense. He could give her everything. It should be obvious to her how well they suit, in bed and out. Her writing wasn’t the issue as he’d made it perfectly clear he would never stop her. What of companionship? Did it mean nothing to her? He was certain it did. He had seen the looks on her face when they walked hand in hand on the beach, and when they worked on her story in bed. She was happy, dammit.

Something wasn’t right here.

What could possibly be keeping her from marriage? He pulled off his jacket and sat down on the bed in thought. He needed to discover what was behind her issue with marriage and assuage her reasons until she relented.

Other than a chiding from Jennette for worrying her and a quick visit to Elizabeth, Avis spent the remainder of the next week alone in her home. With each day that passed, she prayed for her monthlies to come until she believed she could not ask God for another thing in her entire life. But still they didn’t come. She couldn’t be pregnant. She would have to marry him. She didn’t want that…did she?

She lay in bed, trying to imagine what marriage to Banning would mean. A man in her bed who knew her body and how to bring her to ecstasy. Someone to talk to during the long winters. Someone who seemed to respect her opinions on matters and had no problem discussing, or rather arguing, his opinion too.

Avis bit her lower lip. Blast, she missed the cur.

He’d called on her several times in the past week and each time she had Grantham turn him away. So far, she didn’t believe anyone had noticed his attempts to visit, but she couldn’t take any more chances. Spurning his calls hurt her more than she wanted to admit but there was no point in encouraging him when she couldn’t trust herself. Not as long as her father’s blood ran through her.

As she rose to change into her morning clothes, she realized thoughts of marriage did not matter any longer. Her courses had started during the night. There no longer appeared to be any reason she might
have
to marry him. Tears burned down her cheeks.

After the past few days, she’d expected to be crying out of relief. She fell onto her bed and put her face in the pillows. She wasn’t with child. She pressed her hand to her belly, there was no baby growing there. She would never have his child. She would never have him again.

She’d never felt so empty in her life.

Why had she invited guests today? With her courses only started two days ago and her emotions still in upheaval, the last thing she needed was a literary salon in her home. But she’d planned it weeks ago and it would look quite bad if she canceled. As people arrived that afternoon, she did her best to plaster on a smile and be pleasant.

Soon the salon filled with people but still there was no sign of Emory. She knew he had returned with the prince for the duke’s memorial because he’d sent a note around telling of his return. They really shouldn’t start discussing his book without him.

“He should be here any moment,” she told her friends. Trying not to look obvious, she peeked out the window. She was anxious for the salon to start. The sooner it began, the sooner it would be over. She spotted Emory coming up the walk. Thank God, he had arrived. But glancing behind Emory’s carriage, she noticed another coach. This one had an earl’s emblem blazed on the door. She clutched the window frame for support.

“I believe our guest of honor has arrived,” she said. Plus a very unwelcome addition.

If she barred Banning from entering, everyone would be suspicious. If she let him in, who knew what might happen. She had no choice but to invite him into her salon and hope he did nothing extreme.

“Lord Selby and Mr. Billingsworth,” Grantham announced.

“Welcome to my salon, my lord,” she said with an exaggerated curtsy. “This is quite unexpected.”

“I am fairly certain it is not,” Banning remarked as he passed her. “Thank you for the invitation, Miss Copley.”

As if she would have issued such an invitation. “And Mr. Billingsworth, our honored guest.”

Emory took her hand in his and placed a quick kiss on her hand. “It is a pleasure to be at your home, Miss Copley. I will need just a moment and a glass of water before I start my oratory.”

A footman poured a glass of water for him as the guests took their seats. As the hostess, she felt all her guests should have the best chairs, so she sat in the rear of the room. Banning took the seat next to her. She could feel his breath caress her ear as they turned to watch Emory take his position in front. She could smell the tangy scent of him that always drove her mad.

While Emory spoke, Avis did her best to concentrate on him and not the man next to her. But try as she might, she heard barely a word Emory spoke. Yet she heard every breath Banning took. She watched from the corner of her eye every movement he made, whether it was crossing his legs or shifting in his chair. She’d only ever been this intently aware of one man—Banning.

She wondered if the swift brush of his arm against hers had been accidental. He mumbled a soft apology. She closed her eyes briefly only to imagine Banning, naked in bed and waiting for her.

Her eyes snapped open, and she tried her best to listen to Emory. But Banning moved his legs again and one strong thigh grazed her skirts. Only this time, he didn’t move his leg back into a proper position. The heat of his body swept up her limbs and farther, up her back until she had to steel herself against the assault. She shifted away from him, praying for a breath of cool air to dampen her desires.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye and noticed the smug little smile on his face. Damn him. He was playing with her.

Minutes passed and several people asked questions of Emory. She would normally be one of the first to speak up and query an author. Tonight she could barely remember her name much less something to say.

The sound of clapping hands told her Emory’s speech was finished. The crowd mingled for over an hour. When Avis glanced around, she realized Banning must have slipped out without saying anything to her. How odd. She rather thought he might do something inane such as cause a scene. Relief merged with disappointment at his exit.

“Avis, I must say you seem different tonight,” Emory noted from over the top of his port glass. He had remained as everyone else departed, leaving them alone in her house.

“However do you mean?”

“Distracted. It’s not like you. I do not think you asked a single question tonight.”

“I do apologize, Emory. I find of late my mind to be on Lady Elizabeth in her time of sorrow.”

He patted her hand softly, caressingly. “Of course, that must be it.”

What was it about his reply that set her nerves on edge? Avis pulled her hand away and looked around for her servants. Where were they? “Did you have a chance to read through my story?”

“I did.”

“And?”

Emory walked away from her. “Well, I believe the story is improving.”

She could hear the hesitation in his voice. “But?”

“Something is still missing. The romance between the two characters is fascinating but it is rather scandalous, and I fear you might offend some readers.”

“Offend some readers?”

“Yes, your heroine is rejecting an earl for a mere mister and a gambler at that. I don’t believe most marriage-minded mamas would ever allow that to happen no matter the reason.”

“But they are in love with each other.”

Emory rolled his eyes. “Yet they still must conform to the mores of society and society would look down on such a marriage.”

He wanted her to change her story again.

Emory clasped her hands and looked into her eyes. “Avis, what is most important is getting you published. I have told you hundreds of times that even if you get your book published you must make your readers happy so they are satisfied and all too pleased to buy your future novels. You have to play the games of Society and follow their rules. The story must be perfect and offend no one. That is why my first book was so successful. I don’t want you making the same mistakes I made with my last few books that I can’t seem to sell.”

Avis nodded, stifling the need to run to her room and cry. Emory was right. She wanted to see her novel in print, and she mustn’t offend anyone or she would never realize her dream.

Emory cleared his throat noisily, as if to regain her attention. “Would you allow me to take you for a ride in the park tomorrow?”

A ride? With Emory? He had never shown one bit of attraction toward her except in a friendly manner. Perhaps he just wanted more time to talk about his book and his time with the prince. “Of course. I would love that.”

Emory smiled in a way that made her think she was about to be pounced upon. After kissing the top of her hand, he said, “Very well, I shall call for you at four.”

Avis nodded as he picked up his coat and hat. After Emory left, she dismissed the servants for the night before heading to her study. She wanted her novel published so she had to make her miserable writing less offensive to the general public. Or she had to decide if writing was what she truly wanted to do with her life.

How could she do either one? In her heart, she knew the story worked the best as she had rewritten it. But what was the point of writing if no one would read her stories? She pressed her lips together, fighting the tears that threatened. She didn’t want to give up writing. Creating stories had been her escape from her family life and her escape from Society’s strict rules. Without her writing, what would she have?

Nothing.

A house filled with servants, a few close friends, and enough money to live lavishly the rest of her life, but she wouldn’t have that fulfillment of having created something no one else could have.

The only thing she had ever wanted to do was write. What would she do now? How would she occupy her days? With no husband or children to occupy her time and no writing, the emptiness inside her would only grow. She wiped away a tear that managed to overflow with her frustration.

After she entered the room, she lit several candles on her desk until she had enough light to read without straining her eyes. Standing in front of the desk, she picked up the first page of her manuscript and scanned the story again.

“This is horrid,” she cried, ripping the paper down the middle. A tear trickled down her cheek and then another. She would never be a writer, never see her books in print. No one would ever read her stories and be captivated by them, lost to another world and time.

She lifted the second sheet and started to rip it, but two large, masculine hands reached out from behind her to close over hers.

“Don’t,” Banning whispered in her ear.

Avis gasped in surprise. He shouldn’t be here, in her study. They were alone together and all her servants had retired for the night. And yet, she felt far safer alone in the study with Banning than she had just a few minutes ago with Emory.

“What are you doing in here?”