Emily Hendrickson (30 page)

“I shan’t take any chances, my dear,” the earl replied. “I shall have Fynes check everything, you may be sure. I hope it is not too late for that. Perhaps Filpot will discover useful information when he goes through Jeremy’s things. Possibly the money?”

From behind them Aunt Bel spoke up. “Let that be a lesson to all of us, not to put off what needs doing.” She moved closer to the earl, fiddling with the scrap of black-bordered cambric in her hands before adding in a hesitant voice, “Harold, I would have a word with you at your earliest convenience.” She glanced at the locket watch she always wore.

“Ah, yes, my dear,” the earl said, turning in his chair to look at Isobel. “There is a bit of unfinished business between us. It is not too late, my lady,” he said with a smile. He rose, offered her his arm, and they began to walk to the door.

Sidthorp returned just then, appearing somewhat flustered. “Sir, if I may have a word?”

“What is it? What is it? I am in a hurry. So much to be done. No time to waste.” The earl paused in his walk to stare at his usually calm butler.

“The cook has disappeared, milord. Decamped.”

Lord Crompton glanced at Lady Montmorcy, then at his son. “Not surprising, I imagine. It merely proves, in a way, the charge I made regarding her. Had she nothing to fear, she would be here yet.”

“I think not,” muttered David. “We’d all had enough of her scorched meals. If you had not sent her packing, I daresay the entire household would have risen in revolt.”

The earl looked chagrined, but said nothing in defense of the cook. He turned to Sidthorp. “Who prepared the food today, for it seemed good enough to me?”

“Cook had sent word she was indisposed, so the kitchen maid stepped in to do what she could, with Mrs. Sidthorp’s supervision. It was not until the kitchen maid sought instructions for the evening meal that the absence was discovered.”

“Gave Cook time to get clean away, eh? Well, carry on, Sidthorp. The kitchen maid is doing fine, until you locate a new cook.’’

‘‘ Very good, milord.”

“I wondered about breakfast, for the eggs were not crisp, nor the toast burned,” Egbert said as he passed the others on his way to the drawing room.

Lord Augustus lumbered toward the door, intent on convincing his son to join him in a game of billiards rather than settle for a dull round of cards in the drawing room.

Mr. Fynes gathered his papers, then removed himself to the study to complete his task. If he was put out at having to make the trip under false pretenses, he didn’t show it. As it was, he had the problem of the estate books to handle, and that would occupy much time.

The earl and Aunt Bel strolled toward the corridor before glancing back to where David hovered at Elizabeth’s side. “We shall see you later, I trust. David, I cannot begin to tell you how much it has meant to have you at my side for support during this ordeal. I suspect that had it not been for the intrepid Miss Elizabeth, I should be dead by now.” He gave them a benign smile.

He turned to Aunt Bel and added, “Your Purvis is indeed a treasure. I hope that she comes with you?”

“Why, whatever do you mean, sirrah?” Aunt Bel said in a fluttery voice, tapping the earl lightly on his arm.

“Why do we not find some privacy so I may explain it to you in greater detail?” He chuckled, the twinkle in his eyes matched by her sparkling smile.

“Well, I shall never forgive you for that business of the body. Dreadful thing it was,” Aunt Bel declared as they continued their walk to the other side of the house.

The earl was last heard explaining how they had managed the deception, and why he and David had felt it necessary to conceal the truth from everyone, even his dearest Bel.

Alone in the library, Elizabeth turned to face David, her beloved rake. She wanted everything settled as soon as possible, for in the event she lost him, she wanted to be out of this house as soon as she could.

“I suppose you realize that it is no longer required that you marry me?” Elizabeth began. “With all that has gone on, the announcement that we are not to marry will be virtually ignored. I should think your father’s resurrection from the dead, as it were, will have tongues wagging for some time to come.”

“You wish to hand me the mitten?” He sounded outraged, or at the very least deeply wounded.

“Well,” she blustered, unable to lie outright to him, “not jilt you, precisely. More like a mutual agreement. I would set you free, for I have no wish to marry a gentleman who treats me like a sister”—she ignored the several kisses that had been most decidedly unbrotherly— “and may long to marry someone he truly cares for. Unless . . . you must marry me for some vital reason?” Not waiting for his response, she rushed ahead. “I overheard Mr. Fynes tell you to marry me, for a wife could not testify against her husband. And you”—she cleared a sudden obstruction from her throat—”said that it wasn’t what you wanted.”

“Go on.” He leaned against the desk, arms crossed, staring at Elizabeth with a look that did not make her words any easier.

“If there is trouble afoot, I shall marry you,” she declared resolutely, “for I do care about you, David, and I would never wish anything bad to happen to you.” She clasped her hands in front of her, willing him to reveal what it was that she could do for him. She had decided that if he wished her to wed him in order to protect him for some strange reason, she would, and gladly. As Rose often said, half a loaf was better than none. And besides, if given time, she might learn to entice him, so as to progress from teasing to something better.

“As to what precipitated the comment from Mr. Fynes. I had told him that there were moments when I could easily throttle Cousin Egbert. That prompted his reply, the one you unfortunately overheard.”

“Then you do not
need
to marry me?” She thought she well concealed her disappointment from her voice. “Well, I hope that you will forgive me for shooting you, sir. But,” she hastened to add, “you did ask for it, by coming into my room in the middle of the night.’’ She reflected a moment while twisting the handkerchief in her clasp to mangled shreds. “Pity that Aunt Bel dashed in so quickly, or that you were foxed. Else you might have gone back out through the window, and no one would have been the wiser.”

“I might have died without your care,” he suggested, leaving the desk and walking to her.

“Oh, pooh. You would have found help,” she replied, but did not sound convincing, even to her own ears. Then, determined to allow him freedom should he desire it, she said, “It is silly for Aunt Bel to say that we must marry merely because you were in my room on Valentine’s Day. I believe that for two people to wed because of a superstition is not at all the thing.”

Her resolution slipped when he reached out to bring her closer to him. She could feel the strength of his body as she was slowly drawn up against him.

He drew her closer yet, removing the shreds of cambric from her hands. He tossed the pathetic remains aside, then studied her face. “You care for me?”

She chewed her lower lip, uncertain what to admit. If she confessed her love for him, he might feel constrained to marry her out of pity. If she lied, and said she cared not a jot, he would be free, and she would be forever lost.

Deciding she would acknowledge something, she at last said, “I care for you.”

“It is not like you to hedge, Elizabeth. One of the things I love about you is your fearlessness.”

She heard only one word of what he said. “Love?” She snuggled closer to him, wondering if what she heard was true. Searching those beautiful hazel eyes, Elizabeth was at a loss on what to do next. What a pity David was merely a tease, not her splendid knight. Chivalry was indeed dead.

“I do
not
think of you as a sister, you know. Haven’t for a long, long time.” He feathered a finger along the sweet curve of her face, ending up in threading his hand through her curls.

Fascinated by this turn in their conversation, Elizabeth took another tiny step closer to him and said a breathless “Oh?”

“Indeed. I love you, my little one, and I suspect you love me as well, only are too wary to reveal it. Perhaps a bit of persuasion will help?”

With that, any gap between the two was closed completely.

Elizabeth cherished the feel of his strong arms about her, not to mention his powerful physique as she nestled in his embrace. If she had believed his previous kisses teasing, taunting, and quite provoking, this was not. This kiss was all any girl might wish for.

At last he released her, but just enough for her to look up at his face. There was no denying the expression she saw there. He loved her, plain as that aristocratic nose on his face.

“Ah, that look in your lovely aquamarine eyes tells me you do love me. Why is it so difficult to say?”

Honest as ever, Elizabeth said, “I did not wish you to feel compelled to marry me, as you might if I declared myself to you as you seemed to wish. I do love you, very much,” she affirmed.

“My Valentine bride may come to me in March, but come she will. Since all in is readiness, I believe we should marry at once. I fear I cannot wait much longer for you, my little love.”

As he captured her lips again in another kiss, Elizabeth decided that Aunt Bel’s Valentine’s Day superstition was not quite as foolish as she had first thought. In fact, it appeared to have considerable merit. Chivalrous knights might be well enough in books; she would happily settle for the man in whose arms she snuggled.

To my dear Kirsten, the finest assistant a writer could desire.

Copyright © 1993 by Doris Emily Hendrickson

Originally published by Signet (0451175522)

Electronically published in 2009 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads

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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.