For the Love of a Pirate (24 page)

She wore a dashing new dark crimson walking dress, with a tiny fetching little mockery of a hat tilted on her high dressed hair, a gold shawl over her shoulders, new half boots, and an antique gold chain and locket at her throat. She was ready for London.

London seemed to think so too.

Lisabeth spoke through tightened lips as she avoided the eyes of the impertinent gentlemen. “Do they think I'm a tart?”

“With a chaperone sitting next to you who looks as tough and tight as an overcooked duck?” Miss Lovelace asked, fingering the white starched lace collar of her simple black walking dress. “I didn't want to look like a madam, that's why I put on this terrible thing. But maybe that's the style now for a Covent Garden abbess. What do I know? I've been away from the trade a long time. In my day, procurers overdressed to get attention. Maybe now they underplay it. Any rate, I'll wager they're ogling you because you're beautiful, you're new, they don't know me, or you, and so they don't worry about who your father or your husband or your protector is. If they did, they'd slink away. Shall I tell them?”

“No, pay them no attention,” Lisabeth said. “When Lord Wylde gets here, he'll deal with them.”

But Constantine didn't. He came through the door of the hotel, glanced around, saw Lisabeth and came straight to her. The two gentlemen saw that, and left, promptly.

Lisabeth had eyes only for Constantine as she rose to her feet. If possible, he looked even more elegant than she'd remembered. His dark hair was brushed back; he wore a dark blue jacket, dun breeches, his linen was dazzling, his boots shone, his only ornament was the gold fob at his ruby-colored waistcoat. And his smile outshone all else.

The gentlemen she'd seen coming and going in the hotel this morning all seemed overly pomaded and overdressed by comparison. Lisabeth was delighted, proud, and a little frightened of Constantine. Again, she wondered if she knew this man, even considering all she'd shared with him.

He took her hand in his gloved one. “Lisabeth,” he said, “welcome.”

She looked into his eyes. He seemed sincere.

“This is no place to talk,” he said, looking around. “And it would cause talk if I went to your room. Certainly even more if you came to my house right now.”

Lisabeth's spirits fell. If they were soon to be officially engaged, what did it matter? It only would matter if he had something to say that he couldn't put in a letter. He'd asked her to London, and never said more. Had she misjudged him? Might she have gotten it the wrong way round? Could it be that he was too much the gentleman to end their relationship from a long distance?

“Good afternoon, Miss Lovelace,” he said, when he finally noticed the aged governess beaming at him. “Forgive me for not greeting you at once. Would you mind if we took a walk before luncheon? There's a lovely park nearby, just down the street. The weather is clear, for now, and that way Lisabeth and I can have some privacy.”

“Aye, nothing is too far for young bones,” Miss Lovelace said sadly, putting a hand to her back. “But I'm not as young as I used to be.”

“I'd send for my own carriage but there's a line of hacks for hire out front. That's faster,” he said. “We'll take an open carriage, and when we get to the park we can find you a bench in the sun. Does that suit you?”

Miss Lovelace smiled. Lisabeth hid her own smile, as well as her exasperation. Lovey could walk the legs off a woman half her age if there was gossip waiting at the end of the road. She just wanted to be able to hear everything that was said.

They began to walk out of the hotel, but were stopped by the sight of a gentleman coming in through the door. He was an older man, with a wrinkled face and bright blue eyes, and he was correctly, if soberly, dressed in black. He carried a fine ebony silver-headed walking stick, and swung it as he walked jauntily toward them.

“No!” Lisabeth gasped. “Grandy! You look . . . well, grand!”

“Had better,” her grandfather said, stroking his smooth chin. “Had me a shave from the best London barber this morning. And a haircut, by God. Though there was more to take off on my chin. Got myself dressed to the nines too. I decided to surprise you. Well, now that I don't have to threaten anyone anymore, I can play at being one of the nobs.”

Lisabeth blushed. Her grandfather seemed oblivious to his implied insult to her and to Constantine.

So did Constantine. “You look very much the thing, sir,” he said. “You wouldn't frighten anyone. Not that you ever had to, or did,” he added, smiling. “Now, what we can do is go to luncheon. The hotel sets a fine table. Would you care to join us?”

As the captain and Miss Lovelace eagerly agreed, Constantine bent his head and whispered to Lisabeth, “We can talk later,” he said. “We must.”

They had a superior luncheon. At least, Lisabeth thought so. The food was delicious, though she hardly tasted it. She feasted her eyes, instead, on Constantine, and she was filled with happiness.

They were eyed by other diners, but never stared at. Constantine nodded to a few acquaintances. He and his guests laughed and spoke of many things, but nothing remotely to do with an upcoming wedding, a canceled engagement, or plans beyond the next day.

“I thought to take Lisabeth to the theater tomorrow night,” Constantine said at the end of the meal. “Should you like that, Lisabeth?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

He looked at the other two at the table. “Should you care to come with us?”

“I have to,” Miss Lovelace said repressively.

“I would,” the captain said. “Haven't seen a good knockabout farce in a long time.”

“It's a production of
Hamlet
,” Constantine said.

“Good, I can get some sleep,” the captain said. “But there's always a farce before or after, am I right?”

“You are,” Constantine agreed. He took a deep breath, and then leaned forward, and spoke, low. “But before that, Captain, what I'd really like is a chance to speak with your granddaughter, alone. How can we do that? It's a mild afternoon; the sun's still bright. I was thinking that if we all went to the park, you and Miss Lovelace could keep us in sight, but Lisabeth and I might be able to speak freely for the first time in a long while.”

“Well and good,” the captain said, putting both hands on the table, so he could rise.

They were getting up when a bright-eyed gentleman with lacquered hair and a curling smile, dressed in the height of fashion, or maybe a bit above it, stopped by their table.

“Lord Wylde,” he said with a bow. “Well met. How are you this fine day? And please,” he said with a hand to his heart. “Can you introduce me to these two devastatingly attractive ladies, before I
positively
expire?
Everyone
at my table,” he added, shrugging one padded shoulder over to a table of gaping gentlemen, “keeps asking who they are. Could you, would you, please enlighten me?”

“Sir Carroll,” Constantine said smoothly, “allow me to introduce an old friend of the family: Captain Bigod; his lovely granddaughter, Lisabeth; and her charming companion, Miss Lovelace. They're here visiting London, and I'm showing them the sights. Captain, Lisabeth, Miss Lovelace, allow me to present Sir Carroll, who will perish if he doesn't know everything that's going on in town.”

Everyone murmured greetings, Lisabeth dipped her head in a sketch of a bow. But her heart was troubled. She was being introduced only as an old friend visiting the city? She didn't look at her grandfather; she didn't want to see what expression he wore. She could swear she felt the vibrations of his growl.

In a few minutes, the foppish Sir Carroll bowed himself away and went back to his table to enlighten the men waiting for him.

“He's the biggest gossip in England,” Constantine explained as they walked to the door. “I didn't want him announcing our engagement before we do.”

“Oh, well then, aye,” the captain said, sounding mollified.

Lisabeth said nothing. She really did have to talk to Constantine, and alone, whether it was here or in the park, or in a closet, and before much more time went by.

They took a hack to the park, and true to his word, Constantine parked the captain and Miss Lovelace on a bench, took Lisabeth's arm, and strolled away with her. They walked round and round an ornamental fountain, always in plain sight of their chaperones. It was a mild late summer's day, and the park was crowded. The only privacy they had was when they made the turn around the fountain until they were exactly opposite her grandfather and Miss Lovelace. Then the water spouting from the stone dolphins playing around a marble Neptune provided a curtain of mist and spray, and hid them from sight. But even then, they weren't completely alone. There were children frolicking around the fountain, trying to sail boats, or dip their fingers into the water, their busy nurses and nannies running after them.

“I'm free now,” was the first thing Constantine said to her.

Lisabeth looked up at him. He didn't seem elated, or sad. He was just reporting the fact to her.

“Was she angry? Were her feelings hurt?” she asked.

“Not in the least. As I thought, when I told her about my ancestors, that did it. Miss Winchester's very proud of her family and her position in Society. She was glad to be rid of me and my bad blood. At least, once I dropped a few bad names, she agreed at once and I didn't see a hint of regret in her eyes. The notice of the end of engagement has already appeared in the paper, no excuses given. It's her right to announce it that way, and she did. I'm surprised your grandfather didn't show it to you. I wouldn't have sent for you if it hadn't already appeared.”

“I suppose he wouldn't have come here if he hadn't seen it either,” Lisabeth said. Her grandfather always had at least one card up his sleeve. He must have had his reasons for not wanting her to know about it before she saw Constantine.

“And so now I can take you around London, and then,” he said on a slight smile, “we can announce our engagement when we wish.” He paused a moment, and looking into her eyes with an unreadable expression in his own, he added, “That is, if we have the time for ‘then.' Otherwise, we can do it immediately, though I'd prefer to have a space of time between ending one engagement and announcing another. And it would be better if we had some time between the announcement and the wedding. There'd be less gossip that way. I suppose we can delay another month, but that's the limit. We won't be the first to marry with cause,” he murmured. “There'll be people counting on their fingers, but let them. Needs must when the devil drives.”

He was so cool, so calm, so unimpassioned. She wanted to kick him. She wanted to shake him. This languid, proper, so correct gentleman was not the man she'd fallen in love with. Was it the London air that changed him? Was it that he'd come to his senses? Or had she entirely lost hers that day when she'd lain with him? Lovey was always saying that the older a woman got, the more lust began to look like love, and that a spinster's excuses for lovemaking grew with every birthday that came to her. She hoped that wasn't true of herself, but began to wonder. He was still as handsome. But it turned out that he was still as heartless as he'd seemed when she'd first met him.

He'd as much as asked her if she was with child—his child. She wanted to shout: “You're free, damn you!” and then leave him standing there. But she had loved him, and she hated to give up on him as easily as she'd given herself to him. She reined in her temper and concealed her disappointment. She counted to ten. She might not want to marry him anymore, but she deserved something, if only ten seconds' revenge, for all her trouble.

Ten reached, she hesitated, opened her lips, and then remembered Miss Lovelace's sage advice. So Lisabeth kept her eyes on his as she assembled her thoughts.

He looked apprehensive.

She was delighted. But nothing good lasts forever, she thought, and she sighed. “I'm free too,” she said. “There are no lasting consequences resulting from our . . . meeting.”

She watched him closely and saw the vast relief wash over him. He smiled, and visibly relaxed. Now she wanted to push him into the fountain. She clenched her fists and waited to hear what he'd say.
Then
, she decided, she'd push him into the fountain.

“That's as well,” he said, nodding. “Now there'll be no gossip. No one can challenge our association, and in time, we can announce our engagement and there'll be no undue talk.”

She stared at him, resolved now to end it. She wondered how he'd feel when she told him that not only the idea of her being pregnant was over, so was their plan for marriage. Would she see disappointment or more relief in his eyes? Her own heart felt sore.

“I confess,” he added softly, his gaze on the toddlers playing at the fountain's edge, “that I feel a bit cheated. You know? After a while, the idea of our child became very attractive to me. I began thinking of names, and wondering if he'd be lucky enough to look like you. Well, that will be another day. For now, we have time and leisure to do things right, and our wedding won't be a scrambling, embarrassing affair. You deserve so much better. And Lisabeth? When in God's name am I going to have you alone for a few minutes, to be able to kiss you again?”

She stared at him. And then she laughed. In that one moment, she'd caught a glimpse of the man she'd fallen in love with. “We'll find the time. After all, as you said, now we have it. And surely,” she added with a grin, “an experienced man about town like you should be able to find a way for us to be alone.”

“I wish I were that,” he said fervently, taking her hand. “I led a misspent youth trying to be as trustworthy and moral as my uncle decreed. I succeeded, too well.” He looked down at her with entreaty. “Help me find myself again, will you, Lisabeth?”