Rebel Marquess (5 page)

“No, it is not,” he answered, still without looking down at her.

When he offered nothing more in explanation, Eliza twisted her lips and narrowed her gaze.

“Perhaps you realized that deep down you have always yearned to be a part of the Terribury clan, and after meeting me this morning you’ve decided I would make the perfect marchioness and couldn’t wait another day to declare your intentions to the entire party?”

This suggestion garnered a bit more of a reaction as Rutherford arched his brows imperiously and gazed down his aristocratic nose at her.

A nose with a slight bump as if it had once been broken, Eliza noticed again. Surely the pretentious marquess had not engaged in youthful scrambles? Or was it a result of something more recent. A riding incident or an altercation over a lady…

Eliza gave herself a mental shake.

Do not create stories about him. He is not one of your heroes.

“It is a dance, not a declaration,” the marquess replied.

“Ah, perhaps you forget my mother?” Seeing his involuntary grimace, she gave a nod of her head, “No, of course not. Mother is not easy to forget. Then perhaps you do not realize she is probably already spreading speculative whispers as to the nature of our relationship.”

“Again, a dance, not a relationship.”

Eliza smiled at his obstinate assurance, the utter arrogance that suggested he could make something fact simply by stating it.

“You know, if my own future were not tied up in the details of this little debate, I might be amused by your determination to thwart the common perceptions of society. But you have put me at risk by dragging me out onto this floor, so I would like to know what intention was behind your rash decision to put us on display together.”

The marquess frowned and guided them through a tricky turn at the end of the ballroom before he replied in a tone heavy with disapproval. “Miss Terribury, you have a tendency to ramble.”

“And you have an odd aversion to explaining yourself. So glad we are getting to know each other better.” She smiled brightly. “But I am afraid I must insist you satisfy my inquiry before the dance is done.”

Eliza thought she saw a slight quiver in the firm line of his lips, suggesting a hint of humor. But then his countenance darkened further and his eyes narrowed dangerously. Oddly, the fierce expression only made Eliza’s heart beat faster, and not with fear. She was enjoying their verbal skirmish, almost to a point where she didn’t care what people might think of their interaction.

But she knew she would have to field her mother’s relentless questions later, and she intended to have a full understanding of why the elusive marquess had publicly demonstrated an interest in her, minor though it may be.

Eliza raised her brows, silently prompting him for an answer.

“I am not one to be manipulated, Miss Terribury.”

Again, her name sounded like a sneer from his lips. Could he not understand they were on the same side of this battle?

Irritated by his insistence in treating her as an adversary, she gave a pert nod and replied with an extra dose of gravity to match his sober expression. “Since I have always preferred to address what I want straight on, we shall get along nicely then. And now that we have effectively established our positions, can you tell me why you bothered to ask me to dance?”

He looked down at her with sharp intensity in his gaze.

A shiver of sensation chased over Eliza’s skin and she suddenly felt as she had when they had been alone together in the bathing room. Her skin was too tight, her clothing too warm and her lungs struggled to draw a full breath.

She swallowed and forced herself not to look away. After another moment, the marquess replied darkly, “You are exasperatingly persistent.”

The odd physical spell dispersing, Eliza grinned. “Thank you.”

This time, she was quite certain she saw his lips twitch. Then he heaved a deep sigh, as if having to explain himself took more effort than he was prepared to exert. He lifted his gaze to peer over her head. “I could think of no other way to escape your mother’s company.”

Eliza coughed. Then sputtered. Then she pulled her fingers from his and pressed the back of her gloved hand to her lips as her eyes started to water.

Her odd behavior brought his attention back to her as he eyed her with shock and wary concern at once. “Miss Terribury. Are you all right?”

Eliza could only shake her head, thinking it was lucky he was such an accomplished dancer as their steps hadn’t faltered a bit in spite of her sudden fit. Then that thought incited another blast of hilarity. A bubble of laughter escaped from her lips and she met his gaze apologetically.

Realizing her plight, he responded with what might be construed as an exasperated roll of his eyes, except that in its haughty condescension, it did not resemble any eye-roll Eliza had ever seen before. “Calm yourself. Nothing could be that amusing.”

Eliza gave another small cough as she settled her fingers back into his hand. The laughter had subsided, but she still had to form her words around a wide grin that would not dissipate. “Tell me you see the irony, my lord. To evade my Mother, you claim a dance with me, which in turn will only strengthen her determination to bind you to our family indefinitely.” She shook her head. “You would have been better off turning on your heel without a word.”

“Perhaps I should do that now,” he countered dryly.

Eliza stiffened. He wouldn’t leave her stranded in the middle of the dance floor. Would he? She studied his face. He wore his arrogance like a mask. With the stoic and prideful expression firmly in place, it was hard to see anything else. Then she glimpsed the twinkle of mischief hidden in the depths of his chocolate-brown eyes.

A warm feeling spread through her body, emboldening her.

“You could,” she replied in an airy tone, “but I would feel fully justified in making a scene.”

He arched his brows imperiously. “You expect such a threat to sway me? Female theatrics have no effect upon me, I assure you.”

Eliza shrugged. “It is just as well. I have never been very good at making scenes. I have a hard time staying in character, especially if it’s a comedy. I laugh too easily.”

Something that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle rumbled from his throat, but when he replied, his tone was heavy with boredom. “It seems our only choice is to finish the dance and take our chances with Lady Terribury’s relentless ambition.”

“If you insist,” Eliza replied with an exaggerated sigh. “Though
relentless
may be an understatement.”

“It was an attempt at gallantry.”

“How noble of you.”

“Indeed,” he drawled.

Eliza suppressed a grin.

Then he exerted gentle pressure at the small of her back to draw her into him as he directed them in a grand sweeping turn. At the height of the turn, Eliza’s body was pressed fully against his in an indecently firm embrace. Then he relaxed his hold and the required inches separated them once more.

Eliza blamed her sudden breathlessness on the rigors of the dance but found it difficult to meet his gaze while her cheeks warmed with increased awareness. Sliding her gaze to the side, she noticed they were still the focus of many curious gazes throughout the ballroom.

“My mother may not be the only cause for concern,” she said thoughtfully. “We seem to be garnering an inordinate amount of attention.”

“No one else would dare make unwarranted assumptions. All of England is aware of my aversion to the Terribury brood.”

His words, uttered so carelessly, effectively chased away every ounce of pleasure Eliza had been experiencing the last several minutes. She hadn’t realized how much fun she was having until the bottom fell out from under her feet. Of course, he would only see her as the last in a long line. Her mother and sisters had forged a well-trod path through society. Especially where the Marquess of Rutherford was concerned.

“I see.” She tried not to let the embarrassment color the tone of her voice. But when she felt him stiffen beneath her hand, she realized it was too late.

“I should not have been so blunt. I owe you an apology.”

“Do not be ridiculous, my lord.” Eliza lifted her chin to meet his gaze square on. His earnest expression struck her oddly and her stomach quivered as if she were falling from a terrifying height. “I cannot fault you for telling the truth.”

“Good manners should have kept the words behind my teeth.”

“Yes, they should have,” Eliza managed a jaunty grin. “But I think I will hold onto your vowels for another time. I have a feeling you will owe me several apologies before our association has run its course.”

Chapter Five

The next day dawned bright and lovely.

Eliza dressed quickly, wrapping up in a heavy shawl and grabbing her notebook and a pencil before heading outside. She hoped to have a few hours to herself before other guests ventured from their rooms. Though she had lived in London nearly all of her life and kept London hours in everything else, she had always been an exceptionally early riser. With parties and balls often going strong through the early hours of morning, Eliza usually only got a couple hours of sleep before her internal clock urged her awake. But it seemed enough for her. She could not imagine sleeping past one o’clock in the afternoon as most were wont to do. Half the day was lost by then.

This morning, though she had not found her bed until nearly two o’clock, she felt well-rested and anxious to start her day.

She and Rutherford had managed to effectively avoid each other for the remainder of the evening following their waltz. She wished she could say the same for her mother, but as soon as the marquess deposited Eliza at her father’s side, Lady Terribury had rushed over and insisted on a recounting of every word and gesture.

Eliza did her best to convince her mother the dance was incidental, but it was a wasted effort. Lady Terribury had probably fallen asleep mentally running through options of what to serve at the wedding breakfast.

Stepping outside, Eliza vowed to set aside any and all thoughts on marriage, Rutherford, her mother and the London Season. The sky was a clear stark blue with the faintest wisps of white clouds just brushing the horizon. Though still very early spring, the grass was already a vivid shade of green and the trees surrounding the house were fresh with buds.

Eliza tucked her notebook against her chest and folded her arms within the shawl as she started away from the house in brisk strides. During her conversation with Lady Blackbourne the night before, she had asked about a good walking trail. The countess had recommended a path through the woods that crossed a low creek bed and led to a hill topped by a copse of ancient trees.

The spot sounded perfectly inspirational and Eliza was anxious to get the words that had been flying through her mind the last couple of days down on paper. She strode quickly and took very little note of her surroundings as she passed. Her mind’s eye was already directing the vision of her protagonist as he rode across a rough and bitter landscape at a breakneck speed, determined to reach…

Eliza scowled.

Where exactly is he going in such a terrifying hurry?

She saw the scene taking place just after dusk when the night was still new, but Sir Randolph had already been riding for hours. His horse was lathered, his skin chapped from the wind, but his heart determined.

Why?

Eliza twisted her lips ruefully. Her hero was desperately in need of some proper motivation.

She looked up from where she had been blindly watching her sturdy brown boots eat up the ground beneath her. Up ahead, a narrow footbridge spanned a deep gorge that once must have been an impressive river. Now only a shallow stream meandered lyrically over smooth stones at the bottom of the steeply sloped sides. The bridge was weathered and worn and on the opposite bank long golden grasses grew amid wide-spaced trees. Coming from the earthy shadows of the forest, the other side of the river appeared to be basking in the early morning sunlight.

As she crossed the bridge, Eliza imagined she was traversing into a forgotten land.

When she reached the other side, she was convinced the air was more still and heavier somehow. The birds were more melodic and the sky more vividly blue. There was no path on this side of the river, so Eliza started through the long grass toward a sharp rise in the landscape. The countess had mentioned a hill, so Eliza found a way up the steep incline, falling to her knees as her boots slid on the soft ground. But once she reached the top a smile of wonder widened her lips.

The land leveled out and spread before her in bright sunshine. The copse of ancient trees Lady Blackbourne had mentioned was so much more than Eliza had pictured. The roots of the trees sank heavily into the ground and black gnarled limbs twisted upward and outward from thick trunks.

Eliza trod slowly across the hilltop, scanning the scene with visceral interest. No breeze stirred the air and all smelled faintly of earth, crisp grass and moist pungent herbs. The golden grass did not stand tall in this space but lay against the ground in a rolling carpet. Approaching the center of the clearing, she turned in place and noticed that the trees formed a large ring around the top of the hill, protecting the clearing with the reach of their black, twisted arms.