Never Miss a Chance (2 page)

“Lizzie,” said Aunt Prue.  “What have you done?”

“What is all this stuff and nonsense about the treatise?”
asked an exasperated Lizzie.  Lynwood had reacted utterly predictably.  But it
was disconcerting to be scolded by those who should be cheering her on.  “I
only wrote what so many ladies – and a good number of gentlemen – are
thinking.  I read in the Times just the other day that no lesser a personage
than the Earl of Stalford wants to reform the marriage laws and may even be
amenable to recognizing wives in their own right, instead of treating them as
their husband’s property.”

“But my dear,” said Aunt Prue, “the Earl of Stalford isn’t
just a well respected member of the House of Lords whose duty it is to oversee
legislation, he’s a gentleman.  And, as hypocritical as it seems, society will
always be more forgiving of the idiosyncrasies of its male members than the
female.”

“But all of you agreed with me,” said Lizzie.

“We still do,” said Aunt Prue not unkindly.  “But we’re also
more realistic than you, or perhaps, not as brave.  We stand behind you, but
you’ve set yourself up as a target and I fear society will not be kind.”

Lizzie looked at three of the women dearest to her heart. 
How could they not understand how important these issues were to her?  She
suddenly wished her new sister-in-law were there.  Jane was well aware of the
limitations society placed on women, yet she worked as a surgeon in the village
of Marston Vale.  Surely she would understand what Lizzie had been trying to
do.

“I guess Gunter’s is out of the question,” said Lizzie somewhat
petulantly, looking at the clock.  “I’d best get ready for tonight.”

“Do you really think it’s wise to go?” asked Mariah.

“Whatever else I am, I’m no coward,” said Lizzie.

“No, my dear, you most certainly are not,” said Aunt Prue,
with admiration in her eyes.  “Now let’s get you dressed.

*                    *                    *

Riverton looked about him in some dismay.  The Tarlington
ballroom was overcrowded and rife with the pungent smell of sweat and cloying
perfume.  Worse yet, the marriage-minded mamas, little used to seeing him in
their midst, were already lining up their daughters for his perusal, while the
unhappily married matrons were sending him not-so-subtle glances.  Riverton
usually avoided evenings like this at all costs, preferring instead to stay
home and read, work on his speeches or engage in a chess match with either
Lynwood or Inspector Joseph Stapleton, a Bow Street Runner whose acquaintance
he’d made through the duke.

But tonight, he came to lend his support to Lizzie.  Just hours
after her treatise had appeared, she was the talk of the ball.  Society’s
grandes dames were making their disapproval known and telling their sons and
daughters to give her a wide berth.  Lordlings hoping to make their fortune
through marriage weren’t dissuaded, of course, and, judging from conversations
he’d overheard in the card room, those who’d once thought themselves far
beneath her were pleased to see the playing field leveled.

Worst of all were the scoundrels and rakes with no desire to
marry who now thought they had a shot at, as one had put it, “having a taste of
her.”  That same gentleman had quit the ball soon thereafter, once Riverton had
had a word with him in private, coupled with a few well-placed blows.

It looked to be a long evening, but Riverton was prepared to
do whatever was necessary to protect Lady Elizabeth Kellington.  

*                    *                    *

Sometimes having older brothers was incredibly vexing,
thought Lizzie as she adjusted her gown once again.  It was her new favorite. 
It had a green underskirt with a delicate layer of gossamer lace, and cap
sleeves.  The bodice was rather daringly low-cut, but was certainly no more
revealing than the gowns of the many women who threw themselves at her brothers
with such tiresome regularity.  One could judge the amount of time spent at a
ball by the number of women who made advances on Lynwood, Arthur and Hal.

Which was why it was so unfair that they’d reacted so
harshly to her own behavior.  Arthur even had the audacity to blame her for a
gaming loss.  He’d been on the verge of winning a rather large pot at White’s
when one of his friends had taken it upon himself to read the treatise aloud. 
It had discomposed Arthur so much that he’d lost count of the cards. 

Hal took the treatise as a personal affront.  He deemed it
incomprehensible that anyone would doubt man’s inherent superiority to women.  He
intended to rectify the matter by finding two lightskirts after the ball and
spending the rest of the night not talking politics with either of them.  Of
course, he hadn’t said that to Lizzie.  But her brothers hadn’t exactly been
quiet while taking their brandy in the library when they were waiting for her
to come down.

No one had wanted Lizzie to go to the ball, but once they’d
learned she wasn’t to be dissuaded, they’d decided to go as a united front to
support her.  Which was typical of her family in general.  A slight toward one was
an insult to them all.

When they first arrived, it appeared Lizzie might just be
right about her ability to withstand the criticism.  There was a hush
throughout the ballroom when they were announced, but that wasn’t an unusual
occurrence when Lizzie entered any room with her three quite eligible
brothers.  Lady Tarlington was flustered and Lord Tarlington looked like he
wanted to have Lizzie removed, courtesy of a boot to her bottom.  But as host
and hostess they welcomed the Kellingtons as gracefully as possible.

When Lizzie and her brothers entered the ballroom proper,
they were immediately converged upon by Aunt Prue, Mariah, Rosalind and
Riverton.

Lynwood pulled Riverton aside.  “What’s the mood?”  He’d
already made his own assessment, but wanted to know if the reality was as grim
as he sensed.

Riverton hesitated just a moment before answering, weighing
his words.  “As you might expect.”

He was stopped from elaborating further when Lizzie
approached.  And, as usual, he was stunned by the vision before him.  He also observed
that she, as usual, seemed perfectly at ease with him.  Like being in the
presence of a trusted servant.  Or a family pet. 

“It’s not often I see you at a ball, my lord.  What brings
you out tonight?”

“A chance to meet with friends,” Riverton said, bowing over
her hand.

“Did his grace fill you in on the sordid details of my treatise?”
She smiled, but Riverton thought it just a bit brittle.

“He didn’t need to tell me what I could read for myself.”

“I am sure you disagree with my views most vehemently, do
you not?” 

“It is safe to say we are not in accord.”

There seemed to be a hint of disappointment in her
countenance.  “And do you view them as disastrously as my brothers?”

“To tell the truth, Lady Elizabeth, I find the treatise
quite…remarkable.”

*                    *                    *

That was the odd thing about Riverton, thought Lizzie.  Just
when you thought he was predictable and stodgy and behaved the way an elderly
uncle might – if an elderly uncle were only a few years older, a good four
inches taller than you and had hair the color of wheat and eyes so blue they almost
hurt to look at – just as you thought he was so predictable, he’d say something
to steal your breath away.

Lizzie was spared from further distraction when another man
appeared at Riverton’s side.  One who was also handsome, with reddish hair and
a smile filled with straight white teeth.  He spoke to the marquess, but had
eyes only for Lizzie.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me, Riverton?”

Riverton paused for a moment as if considering ways to avoid
that very thing, before doing what was expected of him.  “Lady Elizabeth
Kellington, may I present George Stahly, Earl of Stalford.  Stalford, this is
Lady Elizabeth.”

“The lady author,” said Stalford, as he brought Lizzie’s
fingers to his lips and Riverton clenched his jaw.  “I’m as intrigued to meet
you as I am impressed by your words.”

“You liked my article?”  Her astonishment was plain.  She’d
almost given up finding anyone at the ball who might be a supporter.

“Like is much too tame of a word, my dear.  It encapsulated
everything I’ve been trying to get across in Lords, but with much more style. 
It’s all anyone can talk about tonight.  One day on the public stage and you’ve
already accomplished more for the fairer sex than I have through years of
shouting down conservatives like old Riverton here.  I’m surprised he didn’t
have apoplexy when he read it.”

“Do you really think it could sway public opinion?” asked
Lizzie.  “With all the criticism I’ve received, I was beginning to fear I miscalculated.”

“Don’t let Riverton dissuade you.  He’s against all forms of
progress and nearly all means of enjoyment.  But I for one will not be denied. 
May I have this dance?”

“It would be my pleasure,” said Lizzie, as she swept past
Riverton onto the dance floor.

He was left with just the slightest scent of freesia and the
strongest desire to stuff Stalford into the nearest fountain.

CHAPTER TWO

As Lizzie made her way through the movements of the
quadrille, she began to wonder if her brothers might actually be right in their
dire predictions after all.  She felt more eyes on her than usual, and was
increasingly certain the scrutiny wasn’t just aimed at her new gown.

There were even gentlemen who appeared to be leering at
her.  And while it wasn’t exactly a novel experience, they usually saved their
more inappropriate looks for when there was no chance of being noticed by her
brothers.  Their behavior in a crowded ballroom bordered on rudeness.  Knowing
her brothers’ likely reaction, it was certainly reckless. 

In contrast, the ladies barely made eye contact with her. 

“Pray tell me,” said Stalford, as the movement drew them
close enough to speak, “how the daughter of a duke came to be involved in
politics.”

Lizzie latched onto the distraction gladly.

“Do you think my position makes me blind to the inequities
in life?”

“I’m sure very little escapes your notice,” said Stalford,
as he gave her hand a squeeze.  “But why would you put your name on the
treatise when you risk losing so much?”

Lizzie looked at the handsome aristocrat, so well and
expensively dressed.  “Because others have so much to gain, my lord.  And
hardly the means to effect change on their own.”

“Well put, my dear.   It’s obvious you and I share a passion
for justice.”  Stalford smiled at her, then kept her hand in his just a moment
longer than warranted by the dance.  “I wonder in what other areas we’re in such
like accord.”

*                    *                    *

At the edge of the ballroom, Lynwood conferred with Arthur
and Hal.  It had been a quirk of their parents to name their children for four
kings and one queen of England.  William, known as Liam to a select few, was
named for the Conqueror.  At thirty-two, he was already one of the most
respected men in all of England.  He was dignified, with a commanding
presence.  But there was also an underlying sense of danger just below the
surface.  Prior to assuming the ducal role, he’d been sent down from University
twice for fighting.   Very few doubted he was still capable of handling himself
in a contest.

The absent Edward, known as Ned, was the next eldest.  At
nine and twenty, he’d spent most of his adult life in the military before
selling out earlier in the year.  He was now at home in Marston Vale with his
wife Jane, but would undoubtedly return to London when word reached him of the
treatise.  His hair was chestnut brown and he had the same green eyes as
Lizzie.  Eyes they also shared with Ned’s recently discovered 6-year-old
daughter Vi.

At seven and twenty, Arthur had yet to focus his life in one
direction.  Having ruled out the military and the clergy early on, he spent
most of his spare time gaming.  A man of few words, but fierce intellect, he
rarely played deep and seemed to win slightly more than he lost.  His hair was
the fairest of all of them, much closer to their sire’s light brown than to
their mother’s raven locks.  His build – like all of the Kellington brothers’ –
was lean muscle distributed across broad shoulders, a well-developed chest, narrow
hips and strong thighs.

Standing next to him was Hal, the youngest brother at five
and twenty.  Named for the bravery of Henry V, but known to share Henry VIII’s love
of women and wine, Hal had wavy chestnut hair that hung to his shoulders.  He
was known as the most affable of the brothers, but his siblings knew him to be
deeply affected by events.  The world saw his quick wit and charming grin.  His
family saw the introspection they covered.  When he let them see it. 

“I think every bounder in town is here tonight,” grumbled
Hal as he looked around.  “Even if they thought Lizzie had suddenly jettisoned
her morals, didn’t they realize we’d still be here to defend her?  And what the
devil is wrong with your hand, Arthur?”

Arthur had his right hand wrapped in ice, while he leisurely
sipped champagne with his left.

“I hit Richardson.”           

“Did he make an advance on Elizabeth?” Lynwood asked with
deadly calm.

“No.  He was simply regaling a few gentlemen out on the
terrace with his predictions of what our sister will write about next.”

The three brothers, while putting up a physically relaxed
front for their ballroom audience, subtly tensed.  A clenched jaw here. 
Fingers tightening on a glass there.  They could recognize the anger in each
other, but tried to remain cool for the gawkers.

“That wasn’t very smart of Richardson to do while you were
standing right there,” observed Hal.

“Yes, well, for someone with such an insignificant brain he
has a remarkably hard head,” said Arthur, flexing the fingers of his injured
hand.  “Liam, shouldn’t we take her home?”

“Retreat may not be our best option right now,” replied
Lynwood, as he coolly met the eyes of a matron utterly fascinated by the sight
of the three brothers huddled together.  She took the hint and turned her gaze
elsewhere.  “If we leave too soon, it would appear we don’t stand behind her. 
Give it some more time, but keep your eyes open.”

*                    *                    *

Lizzie’s dance with Stalford finally came to an end.  He’d
been a good conversationalist and a better than average dancer, but her mind
was elsewhere.  She wanted a little time on her own to reflect on the curious
reactions to her and to consider whether her brothers might possibly be right
about the ton’s response.  They did, unfortunately, have a tendency to be right
more often than not, although she’d never admit it except upon pain of death
and, even then, not within their hearing.

Perhaps a coze with Rosalind was what she needed.  Stalford,
however, had other ideas, as she found herself being led to the terrace doors.

“My lord, thank you for this dance, but I believe I should
once again find my aunt.”

“I thought perhaps you might like a breath of fresh air.  I
couldn’t help but notice the glances while we were dancing.  I imagine you
might like a break from being the focus of such attention.  And it would give
us the chance to strategize on how we can turn their surprise to our parliamentary
advantage,” he said as he tried to escort her to the terrace doors.

“Do you think we might have a chance with the reforms?”
asked Lizzie, not heeding Stalford’s gentle – yet rather insistent – tug on her
elbow.  “And would you really like my assistance?”  It was almost too much to
hope for, since her opinion was usually only solicited by gentlemen in such
matters as the weather and if their cravat met with her approval.

“I assure you, Lady Elizabeth,” Stalford said, as he gave
her elbow a gentle squeeze, “that I would like nothing more than to hear your
decidedly lively opinions in the garden.”

She let him guide her toward the door, until a familiar voice
was heard directly behind them.

“Lady Elizabeth, I believe this is my dance,” said Riverton
quietly.

Lizzie turned to see the marquess, who was exquisitely
turned out in his black and white evening clothes.  By contrast, Stalford was
wearing a yellow waistcoat with elaborate embroidery that he’d bought on a
recent trip to Paris.  Yet despite the simplicity of Riverton’s dress, he was by
far the more elegant of the two men.  Although from the state of his unsmiling
face, one would think he was on the verge of being caned by a particularly sinister
headmaster, rather than standing in the middle of a ballroom about to dance.  Of
course, since he so rarely attended balls, perhaps he’d prefer the caning. 

Stalford tried to whisk Lizzie past the marquess.  “The lady
and I were about to continue our discussion in a more private setting.”

“Do you still have an interest in the corn law amendments?”
Riverton asked him.  “Because Morton, Remington and Bassett are discussing them
in the library.  And the liquor seems to be making them amenable to reason.”

Stalford was torn, just as Riverton knew he would be.  It
was a battle between his political nature and his more down-to-earth needs. 
From the earl’s smug look during the dance, which Riverton had watched with a
hawk-like focus, it appeared Stalford was certain of achieving victory with
Lizzie.  But he’d been continually thwarted in Parliament.  It would be an
irresistible temptation to see if he could make headway with their drunk
colleagues, no doubt confident Lizzie would be his for the taking tomorrow just
as easily as today.

And then, just as Riverton predicted, Stalford’s political
side won out.

Which made the marquess lose the last modicum of respect
he’d had for the earl.

“Please excuse me, my dear,” said Stalford to Lizzie.  “It
seems I have a unique opportunity to make my case with my colleagues.  Might I
postpone our discussion until another time?”

Without waiting for Lizzie’s response, Stalford raised her
hand for a kiss, then made his way to the library.

Lizzie watched him go with a bemused look on her face. 

“It’s not often I’m rejected in favor of men,” she said. 
“It’s quite lowering, really.”

“Knowing Morton, Remington and Bassett as I do,” said
Riverton, “I can attest you’re smarter than all of them, although two of them
do show a bit better judgment than you at times.”

“Who’s the odd man out?”

“Bassett.  The man wouldn’t move out of the way of a racing
carriage without checking with his aides first.  May I have this dance?”

“You’re asking now?  A moment ago you declared it yours for
the taking.”

“Lady Elizabeth,” said Riverton with just the hint of a
smile, “I would never presume that anything of yours was mine for the taking.” 
He stood there, the proper distance away, probably calculated to the very
inch.  But it seemed to Lizzie that he was much, much closer as something
flared in his eyes, then just as quickly disappeared. 

Riverton led her onto the floor to the opening strains of a
waltz.  It was the first time they’d ever been so close to each other.  On the previous
three times they’d danced in other ballrooms none had been waltzes, so they’d
spent more time apart than together.  But on this occasion, there would be no
doubt who her partner was.  There would be no escape from those blue eyes, so
riveting in their intensity.

He moved gracefully, with a leashed power and strength.  As
he swept her into a turn, the hand at her back exerted a gentle pressure that
let her know he was confident and in control.  That she was safe in his arms.

Lizzie shook the fanciful notion from her head.

“I didn’t know you waltzed,” she told him.

“You thought I didn’t know the steps?”  He looked rather
insulted by the remark.

She broke into her first real smile of the night and it
seemed he faltered a half step in response.  “I would never doubt your knowledge
of any subject.  I often envision you holed up in your library late at night
poring over research books on any number of subjects.”

“That rather surprises me.”

“That I think of you as an academic?”

“That you think of me often.”

Lizzie felt annoying color flood her cheeks.

Riverton took pity on her.

“I also cannot comprehend that you thought I learned to
waltz through a book,” he said as he took them through a turn, pulling her a
bit closer than proper.

“I thought it more likely than employing a dancing
instructor,” said Lizzie, having difficulty catching her breath.  Betsy must
have laced her too tightly.

“There are some things in life, Lady Elizabeth, that one simply
cannot experience in books alone.”

He looked at her with his mesmerizing blue eyes and the hand
at her back seemed to burn a hole through the silk.  Was he flirting with her? 
Surely not.  This was Riverton.  Liam’s oldest friend.  A man who’d once thrown
tadpoles at her.  In truth, he had only been flinging them back at her, since
she was the one to place them in his boots in the first place while he and Liam
had been swimming in the pond.  But it wasn’t the type of thing you’d do to
someone you’d ever have romantic thoughts about. 

Was it?

Yet, in spite of the long ago tadpole war, warmth continued
to seep from his hand through her body, settling in heretofore unknown places. 

“And how did you find it, my lord?” she asked. “Dancing with
an instructor?”     

“Well, seeing as I was in a class with a dozen other lads at
school and the dancing instructor looked to be above three score in years, I
learned as much as I could from watching others and hoped for the best for when
I finally danced with a lady of my age.”

“And how did you find it when that day finally arrived?”

There it was again.  That quick flicker of emotion behind
his eyes.

“At the moment, I find it wholly to my liking.”

She thought there should be a response to that provocative
remark, but had no idea what it would be.  Funny that.  She was rarely at a
loss for words.  She licked her suddenly dry lips and hoped she didn’t appear as
flustered as she felt.

*                    *                    *

Riverton watched her tongue dart across her lips and the
ache in his loins intensified.  What madness had possessed him to ask her to waltz?  
Holding her in his arms was becoming more agonizing by the minute.  And why on
earth was he flirting with her?  He knew it had something to do with seeing her
dance with that ass Stalford and wanting the smiles she’d bestowed on the earl
to be turned on him.  But with each revolution he pulled her incrementally
closer.  Soon the evidence of his arousal would be pressed into her, she’d
faint and Lynwood would run him through on a field at dawn.  Followed by Ned,
Arthur and Hal.

All with just cause.