Historical Trio 2012-01 (60 page)

‘I should have guessed who you were, of course.’ Mrs Wilson tutted to herself. ‘Now that I know of the connection I can clearly see that you have a definite look of your mother,’ she added gently as Elizabeth looked up questioningly. ‘Oh, yes, I knew your mother. Quite well, as it happens. She was the most beautiful of women, both inside as well as out.’

‘Then I cannot resemble her in the slightest!’ Elizabeth protested.

‘But of course you can,’ Mrs Wilson said reprovingly. ‘I knew from the very first, when you succeeded in rescuing that scamp Hector from the wheels of a passing carriage, that you possessed a good and kind heart.’

Elizabeth smiled wanly as she shook her head. ‘I believe you are the one who is now being kind.’

Mrs Wilson placed her hand reassuringly on Elizabeth’s. ‘Not at all, my dear,’ she said briskly. ‘And perhaps you should not think too badly of your mother…’

Elizabeth had never really known what to think of her mother’s behaviour. To leave one’s husband and children was shocking indeed. And yet… There had always been an element of doubt—of hope—in Elizabeth’s thoughts concerning her mother’s abandonment of her family.

She blinked back the tears. ‘Did she ever love any of us, do you suppose?’

‘I am sure that she loved her daughters very much.’ Mrs Wilson looked most concerned. ‘I cannot speak from experience, you understand, having spent almost twenty wonderful years married to the man that I loved, but Harriet’s marriage was an arrangement between her parents and your father. He was much older than her, you realise, already over forty to Harriet’s eighteen years when they were married. Totally besotted with her, too, of course.’ Mrs Wilson smiled ruefully. ‘And I am certain that Harriet respected and liked Marcus Copeland.’

‘Except respect and liking are not always enough to sustain a marriage, are they?’ Elizabeth now knew that only too well herself. In fact, she very much doubted, in light of her feelings for Nathaniel, that she would ever marry at all; it would be unfair to any man to always be comparing him to Nathaniel. And finding him wanting.

‘No, they are not.’ Mrs Wilson sighed sadly. ‘I am sure, if your mother had been allowed the time in which to do so, that she would have tried to broker some sort of arrangement with your father so that she might see her daughters again, at least.’

It was what Elizabeth had always wanted to believe. What she had to believe now that she knew it was Rufus Tennant who had ended Harriet’s life rather than the young man her mother had fallen in love with.

‘And now I believe it is time we saw to returning you to your sisters,’ Mrs Wilson prompted gently.

‘Yes,’ Elizabeth confirmed huskily, knowing she wished for nothing more than to be encircled within Diana’s and Caroline’s arms as she sobbed the truth of the past to them.

Except, perhaps, to be held in Nathaniel’s arms…which would not happen. Not now. Not ever.

Elizabeth stood up. ‘I believe, with your permission, that I will return to my bedchamber and try to rest until we leave for London in the morning.’

The older woman chuckled softly. ‘I do not believe that Lady Elizabeth Copeland requires the permission of one such as I to do exactly as she pleases.’

Perhaps not, but at this moment she did not feel very much like Lady Elizabeth Copeland. What she truly felt was battered and bruised, inside as well as out. She—

‘Ah, here you are, Nathaniel.’ Mrs Wilson turned to greet her nephew warmly as he came through to the parlour after having enjoyed his brandy and cigar alone in the dining room. ‘Lady Elizabeth and I were just discussing leaving here tomorrow for London, and then returning her to her family in Hampshire soon after.’

Hooded lids hid the expression in his eyes as he looked across at Elizabeth. He noted the drawn pallor of her cheeks. The bruised darkness beneath her eyes. The slight trembling of her body as she stood up. He also recognised that rather than look at him, she preferred instead to stare down at her daintily slippered feet.

His mouth tightened as he recognised the distance that now yawned between them. ‘The latter will not be necessary, Aunt.’ He stepped further into the room to stand in front of the fireplace. ‘I happen to know that both of Lady Elizabeth’s sisters are at this moment in residence at Westbourne House in town.’

Elizabeth looked up at him sharply. ‘How do you know that?’

‘I finally received a correspondence from Gabriel Faulkner earlier today. In it he related to me that our friend Lord Dominic Vaughn, the Earl of Blackstone, is to marry Lady Caroline, and that he is to marry Lady Diana—’

‘No!’ Elizabeth gasped, her cheeks taking on a grey tinge. ‘I know absolutely nothing of Caroline’s involvement with the Earl of Blackstone—how could I?’ Indeed, Elizabeth had never even met the gentleman. ‘But I cannot allow Diana to sacrifice herself in marriage to Lord Faulkner! She—’

‘Not even if it is a love match?’ Nathaniel asked gently.

‘But it is not!’ She gave a pained groan. ‘Diana is to marry Malcolm Castle. She does not even know Lord Faulkner; she can only have agreed to marry him now because of his threat to cast us all out of our home unless one of us agreed to marry him!’

‘Does that sound like the sort of thing Westbourne would do, Nathaniel?’ Mrs Wilson frowned.

‘No, it does not,’ he confirmed. ‘I assure you that you are mistaken in the matter, Elizabeth,’ he said definitely as he turned to her. ‘Westbourne may have started out feeling obligated to marry one of his wards, but I assure you he is now completely smitten with Diana. And she is equally smitten with him.’

‘No—’

‘Yes,’ Nathaniel insisted firmly. ‘They all await your return before both marriages will take place.’

It made no sense to Elizabeth. Not Caroline’s involvement with the unknown Earl of Blackstone, and certainly not Diana’s agreement to marry the Earl of Westbourne.

There had been an understanding for years between Diana and Malcolm Castle, the only son of the local squire; indeed, it was the existence of that understanding which had allowed Caroline and Elizabeth to run away from Hampshire in the first place, safe in the knowledge that Lord Faulkner would not be able to force Diana into marriage with him.

What pressure could he possibly have brought to bear on Diana for her to have abandoned Malcolm in favour of marrying the earl, after all?

‘I do not understand…’ Elizabeth allowed the letter Nathaniel had received from Lord Faulkner to flutter down onto the desktop in the library where he had brought her a few minutes ago so that she might read it for herself.

Nathaniel leant back against his desk, arms folded across his chest. ‘It seems perfectly clear to me, Elizabeth, that Diana’s previous understanding has come to an end and that she and Gabriel have now fallen in love.’

‘But—’ she gave a dazed shake of her head ‘—Diana has intended marrying Malcolm since childhood.’

He looked rueful. ‘I believe you saw Gabe when he visited me at my aunt’s house a week or so ago?’

Elizabeth blinked up at him. ‘Yes.’

‘Handsome, is he not?’

Delicate colour warmed her cheeks. ‘Very.’

Nathaniel’s smile faded. ‘And how would this Malcolm’s looks measure against such handsomeness?’

Her eyes widened indignantly. ‘You make my sister sound the most fickle sort of woman—’

‘Merely a discerning one,’ he corrected harshly.

‘But—but what of Lord Faulkner’s past scandal?’

His mouth tightened. ‘As to that, I can only assume that Gabe has told your sister the truth of it and that she has, quite rightly so, believed him.’

‘The truth of it…?’

‘It is not my secret to share, Elizabeth,’ he said. ‘I have only allowed you to read Gabriel’s letter at all so that you might stop these feelings of guilt concerning his marriage to your sister—’

‘But of course I feel guilty!’ Elizabeth’s cheeks were flushed with temper. ‘Thank goodness the marriage has not already taken place. I must return to London immediately.’

He frowned. ‘You will return to town in the morning with my aunt and me as arranged—’

Her eyes flashed. ‘You are no longer in a position to tell me what I can or cannot do, Nathaniel!’

He eyed her wryly. ‘Was I ever?’

Elizabeth frowned. So much had happened today, so many awful things, that hearing Diana was betrothed to their guardian was just too much for her to take in. Admittedly she and Caroline had never seen Diana’s attraction to the slightly shallow and pompous Malcolm Castle, but they had accepted it. To now learn that her always calm, no-nonsense sister was to marry a man of Lord Gabriel Faulkner’s dangerous good looks and reputation seemed incredible to her.

‘No, you weren’t,’ she declared. ‘Now, if you will excuse me, I really should go upstairs and finish my packing.’

‘By all means,’ Nathaniel drawled drily. ‘But if I know anything of Gabriel—and I do—your objections to the marriage will count for nought.’

Her eyes sparkled a deep and angry blue. ‘And if I know anything of Diana—and I do,’ she added derisively, ‘then Caroline and I will have no trouble whatsoever in persuading her to rethink her decision to marry Lord Faulkner!’ She whirled on one heel and swept from the room, her chin held defiantly high.

Nathaniel’s humour faded as soon as Elizabeth had gone. She had looked every inch the daughter of an earl just now. A young and singularly beautiful lady of quality now placed far beyond his reach by his own actions.

Chapter Nineteen

‘—and I repeat, this situation of Elizabeth retiring to her bedchamber whenever it is known Lord Thorne is due to visit Westbourne House simply cannot continue!’

‘But we cannot force Elizabeth to leave her bedchamber.’

‘It is not my intention to use force, as such.’

‘Then what do you intend to use?’

Elizabeth, sitting inside her bedchamber listening to her two sisters arguing in loud whispers outside the hallway on the other side of the closed door, was most interested to hear the answer to that question too.

Although the fact that it was the normally calm and no-nonsense Diana who was arguing heatedly for ejecting her from the bedchamber, and the impetuous and forceful Caroline reasoning against it, was a cause for bemusement.

Elizabeth had found many changes to her two sisters since her arrival at Westbourne House three days ago…

The hurried two-day journey up from Devon had been arduous but uneventful, Elizabeth’s time spent secluded in the carriage with Mrs Wilson and Letitia, whilst Nathaniel travelled separately in his own carriage. The two met only when they stopped for luncheon or to stay at an inn for the night, times when it was not too difficult for them to continue to avoid each other’s company.

It was enough that she now fully understood her feelings for a man whom she knew could never love her in return, without having to witness the disillusionment with which Nathaniel must view her now that he knew of the lie she had lived in order to enter his aunt’s household.

Elizabeth’s arrival at Westbourne House had been tearful as well as eliciting many surprises. Tearful, because she was as glad to see her sisters again as they were to see her, the three of them crying together once Elizabeth had related the true sequence of events concerning their mother’s death. Surprising, because all of Nathaniel’s claims concerning her sisters had proved to be true. Including Diana’s very real love for Gabriel Faulkner…

Being introduced to Lord Dominic Vaughn, a tall, dark and dangerous-looking man, with a livid scar running the length of the left side of his face, and the man Caroline had fallen in love with, had instantly filled Elizabeth with a feeling she had seen him before.

It was a feeling she had initially dismissed as being ridiculous; if she had ever met the broodingly handsome Dominic Vaughn before then she would certainly have remembered him!

Until she recalled that day in the park a few weeks ago when she had rescued Hector from beneath the wheels of a passing carriage… A carriage driven by a handsome dark-haired man with a scar running down the left side of his face and with a young and beautiful woman seated beside him who had so reminded her of Caroline.

A discussion of their movements had confirmed that it had, indeed, been Caroline and Dominic, after all! Indeed, Caroline’s adventures since arriving in London were more shocking than surprising. Not least because it had been revealed that Nathaniel had received the cuts and bruises to his face and his broken ribs in defence of Caroline during a drunken brawl at a gentlemen’s gambling club owned by Dominic!

Even more astonishing was the way in which her normally headstrong sister now consulted Lord Vaughn on everything, from the gown she was to wear for dinner that evening to the arrangements for their wedding due to take place the following week. A deferment the arrogant and authoritative Earl of Blackstone did not exploit, but instead chose to indulge by being equally as lovingly accommodating to Caroline’s every need.

The two were obviously so much in love with each other that it was almost painful for Elizabeth, deep in the throes of her unrequited feelings for Nathaniel, to be in their company.

Most startling of all to Elizabeth were the changes she found in Diana. Always dutiful, ever putting others before her own wants or needs, these few short weeks apart, and Diana’s unmistakable love for Gabriel, had turned her into a self-confident young woman who knew her own mind and was no longer afraid or reluctant to speak it and had needs that Gabriel was only too happy to comply with, the love he felt for the serenely confident Diana glittering in the approving midnight-blue eyes with which he constantly watched her.

Indeed, it was, as Nathaniel had already stated in Devon, and which, out of ignorance of her sister’s feelings, Elizabeth had at the time disputed, clearly another love match.

It seemed that only she was miserable in the midst of this strange turn of events. Oh, not because she in the least begrudged her sisters their obvious happiness, or the handsome men with whom they were in love, but because for the first time in her life Elizabeth felt truly alone. The closeness to her sisters was still there, but tempered by the other emotional demands with which Diana and Caroline were obviously so happily engrossed.

It was because Elizabeth was in such despair over Nathaniel that she felt herself alone even when surrounded by the people who loved her. She often chose to retire to her bedchamber rather than sit as a silent witness to those love affairs.

And she always chose to go there whenever Nathaniel was to visit Westbourne House.

However, as Diana had already stated so firmly, and Elizabeth had decided for herself this past few minutes, this situation could not be allowed to continue. Especially as Elizabeth and Nathaniel were to be the two witnesses to the Copeland ladies’ marriages the following week.

Elizabeth drew in a deep breath before standing up and throwing open the door, instantly silencing her sisters’ heated conversation as the two turned to look at her guiltily. ‘I believe it is Diana’s intention to use the argument of good manners in order to attain my agreement to leave my bedchamber, is that not so?’ she murmured drily.

Indeed, Diana was the first to recover as she turned to Elizabeth, her flushed face partly obscured by the bouquet of red carnations which she carried. ‘These are for you.’ She thrust the bouquet into Elizabeth’s surprised hands.

Elizabeth gave a wobbly laugh. ‘Having already decided to join you all downstairs for dinner, after all, I assure you it was not necessary for you to bring me flowers in order to persuade me.’ Nevertheless, she could not resist drawing in the deep and gratifying perfume of the beautiful blossoms.

Diana shook her head, blonde curls dancing at her temples. ‘The flowers did not come from me.’

Elizabeth frowned slightly as she looked up at her eldest sister. ‘Then from whom?’

‘Lord Thorne,’ Caroline was the one to announce with satisfaction.

Elizabeth felt the colour drain from her cheeks even as her arms tightened possessively about the beautiful blooms. ‘From Nathaniel?’ she breathed disbelievingly.

‘Ah ha!’ Caroline pounced knowingly. ‘I knew it! I told Dominic only last night—’

‘Caroline.’ Diana’s rebuke, although softly made, was nevertheless heeded as Diana now looked at Elizabeth searchingly. ‘Elizabeth, Lord Thorne has been in Gabriel’s study with him this past half an hour, and is now awaiting you there so that you might talk privately together,’ she explained gently.

For three days Elizabeth had kept her own counsel concerning her feelings for Nathaniel, determinedly hiding her heartache in light of Diana’s and Caroline’s obvious happiness, but she saw now that her silence had only succeeded in becoming a cause for speculation.

Although she was at a loss to know quite what Nathaniel wished to talk to her about, just as she had no idea why he should have brought her red carnations.

Nathaniel paced Westbourne’s candlelit study, his impatience barely contained as he waited to see if Elizabeth would agree to speak with him. Although he believed not; she had succeeded in avoiding his company completely since their return to London and he saw no reason why that aversion to his company should have changed.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but perhaps, after Tennant’s madness that day in the hothouse, he should not have brought her flowers? Although he had deliberately chosen blooms as unlike Tennant’s roses as he could find at this time of year.

Damn it, he did not even remember the last time he had brought flowers for a woman—if indeed he ever had—and now he had bungled—

He turned suddenly towards the door as it quietly opened, his breath catching in his throat as Elizabeth stood framed in the doorway. She looked both pale and fragile against the darkness of the hallway behind her, her lashes resting on shadows above hollow cheeks, her mouth—those beautiful kissable lips—unsmiling above the tilt of her chin.

‘You wished to speak with me, Lord Thorne?’ Even her voice was different, low and husky, and totally lacking in the challenge he had come to expect from her.

Nathaniel’s heart sank, in recognition of the changes in her and the fact that she once again addressed him so formally. ‘Would you come inside and close the door, please?’

The heavy weight of her lashes rose as she looked across at him, the expression in those deep blue eyes guarded. ‘If you feel it is completely necessary?’

Nathaniel’s mouth tightened. ‘I do.’

Elizabeth swallowed hard as she turned to close the door behind her before stepping further into the austereness of the room Gabriel had chosen to make his study. ‘I believe I owe you an apology, my lord,’

A frown appeared on his face. ‘I can think of no reason—’

‘I have been less than polite these past three days.’ Having made her decision to cease avoiding Nathaniel’s company, she did not intend to indulge in any half measures. ‘Which was particularly ungrateful of me considering that I owe you my very life.’

‘Come now, you are being melodramatic—’

‘Not in the least.’ Elizabeth stepped further into the candlelight, a slender figure in a gown of pale cream, a matching ribbon arranged in the darkness of her curls. ‘Sir Rufus was truly mad, and his emotional instability was as like to turn murderous once he realised I truly was not my mother.’

A nerve pulsed in his tightly clenched jaw. ‘And I should have known from the first that you were not what you seemed.’

Elizabeth gave a rueful smile. ‘But I believe that you did realise there was something amiss with my role as lady’s companion.’

‘Perhaps,’ he admitted. ‘Unfortunately, that realisation did not prevent me from…taking certain liberties.’

Elizabeth felt the warmth in her cheeks as she recalled the intimacies she had shared with this man. ‘I believe I am guilty of taking the same liberties where you are concerned.’

Nathaniel almost groaned aloud as he felt himself swelling, hardening—physically aching inside his pantaloons at the mere thought of the delicate touch of Elizabeth’s hands and mouth upon his rigid shaft.

He turned away to stare down into the crackling fire in the hearth so that she should not see the evidence of his physical reaction to those memories. ‘I am attempting to apologise to you for my previous behaviour, Elizabeth—’

‘I would rather you did not!’ she protested sharply.

Nathaniel turned back to her. ‘In the circumstances, it is the least that I owe you.’

‘You owe me nothing!’ Elizabeth gave an agitated shake of her head, dark curls bouncing.

He drew in a harsh breath. ‘I have spoken privately to Westbourne this evening concerning my behaviour in Devon.’

‘What?’ Elizabeth gasped in obvious dismay.

‘My earlier behaviour towards Lady Elizabeth Copeland was reprehensible. Unforgivable. As such, it required that I either offer marriage or give Westbourne, as your guardian, the satisfaction of a duel—’

‘That is preposterous!’ Elizabeth protested desperately.

‘—and as such I have agreed to meet Gabriel at a time and place of his choosing,’ Nathaniel finished gravely.

Elizabeth stilled, chilled to the bone. Indeed, she felt as if ice had entered her veins. Rather than even contemplate the idea of marriage to her, Nathaniel had chosen to risk his life in a duel with a man who Diana had already confided was adept with both the sword and pistol. Not only that, but if both men survived such a duel, Nathaniel would surely have irrevocably destroyed his friendship with Gabriel. A fate he obviously preferred rather than suffer a lifetime of unhappiness with her as his wife.

Elizabeth felt ill. Utterly sickened. Indeed, she was not sure if she could even stand on her own two feet for much longer.

‘I have not told you any of this in order to hurt you, Elizabeth…’

Hurt her? She was beyond being hurt by his admission. Indeed, it felt as if he’d reached inside her chest and ripped her very heart from her.

‘Elizabeth…?’

She gave a choked laugh. ‘I am not hurt, Nathaniel! I am—you would rather risk being killed in a duel than offer marriage to me? An offer you have no idea I would even accept?’ Her face was ashen as she looked across at him.

‘Of course not,’ he exclaimed.

‘Then—’

‘Elizabeth, I have chosen the latter option as the only way in which I might prove to you that—damn it!’ he grated harshly, crossing the room in two strides to stand in front of her as he reached out to take her hands in his, alarmed as he felt the chill of her skin through the lace of her gloves. ‘Elizabeth.’ He dropped down onto one knee in front of her. ‘My darling, beautiful Elizabeth, will you do me the honour of agreeing to consider becoming my wife?’

She stared down at him as if he were the one who had gone mad rather than Rufus Tennant. ‘But you have just said—’