The Houseparty (10 page)

Michael bowed. "I would be most honored, but I doubt the lady would be agreeable."

To Michael's obvious surprise, Elizabeth greeted this with an uncontrolled chuckle. Doing her best to keep a straight face, she glared at her unrepentant brother. "Before you go offering me about, Sumner, I would suggest you ask my opinion. Charming as Captain
Fraser
may be, I would still prefer to live with Miss
Biddleford
."

"Your old governess?"
Adolphus blurted in tones of deepest horror. "Jeremy would never hear of it! Absolutely out of the question, my dear. Think what people would say; a young creature like yourself setting up housekeeping like a veritable antidote. You ain't at your last prayers yet. Three and twenty ain't such a great age, you know. Many ladies have married later and still had a full life."

Elizabeth didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Not that she should care that Adolphus and Sumner were painting her as a plump old maid to Michael
Fraser.
The opinion of a spy and a traitor, or at the very least a rude young man, could hardly matter to her. She gave Adolphus a steely look. "How sweet of you to say so, Adolphus," she said affably. "And I assure you, if you decided to fast for several months and wore tighter
corsets,
you might still be able to find yourself a bride at the advanced age of forty."

Adolphus's
smile never left his face, though the pale blue eyes narrowed, and Sumner laughed through the grilled kidneys. "Warned you, didn't I, Dolph?" he
chuckled. "Tongue on the girl like a viper. I pity the poor fool that makes her an offer. What do you think,
Fraser?"

By this time Elizabeth was completely miserable, wondering if she had been too sharp with Adolphus and wondering if her brother had deliberately set out to paint her in such an unflattering light. Staring numbly down at her dried-up toast, she felt a gentle kick on her ankle that could only have come from Fraser's Hessian-shod toe. She looked up, and he smiled at her, a completely dazzling smile that left her staring at him like a complete fool.

"I pity the man who wouldn't make her an offer," he said. And Elizabeth, throwing twenty-three years of caution to the wind, smiled back.

"Just where do you think you are going, young lady?"

 
Lady Elfreda's piercing tones echoed through the massive hallway, rattling the random suits of armor and causing the baronial pennants far overhead to waft in the breeze.
"And in your riding habit?
After a full luncheon, a lady usually requires at least an hour's rest on her bed.
Brenna
and that
contessa
creature are resting up for this evening's festivities. Or had you forgotten we're having a few couples in for dancing and cards?"

"I haven't forgotten, and I'm looking forward to it enormously," Elizabeth answered, lying blithely. "So much so, in fact, that I know I couldn't possibly sleep a wink if I were to lie down, so I thought I might go for a ride this afternoon.
Just down to the sea and back."

"We don't have any suitable horses for a lady to ride," Lady
Eifreda
said sternly, her tone suggesting that the term "lady" was only a matter of courtesy.

Elizabeth slapped her riding crop against her heavy lavender skirts in mock dismay.
"Oh, what a shame.
I suppose I shall have to make do with a walk in the garden with Adolphus. It's turned into such a lovely day, and you know what they say: spring is the most romantic time of year."

"Of course, there's always the new mare Adolphus brought for
Brenna,"
Lady Elfreda said immediately. "A trifle restive, perhaps. I don't know if you're enough of a horsewoman to manage her." The milky blue eyes gleamed beneath the
crepelike
lids.

Elizabeth rose to the bait as swiftly as Lady Elfreda had. "I would think that if
Brenna
can manage, I certainly could."

Lady Elfreda permitted herself a small smile.
"No doubt.
Inform the groom that I told you to ride Lacey. I am certain you'll have an entertaining ride."

The groom, however, had his doubts, as did Elizabeth when she espied the high-strung, nervous creature that danced about in the cobbled
stableyard
while the poor lad tried to saddle her.

"She's not the world's best-tempered beast, Miss Traherne," he said apologetically. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather have another one? We've any number of gender mounts more suitable for a lady."

"Not according to Lady Elfreda," Elizabeth said wryly.
"Never mind.
If she thinks I'm up to riding Lacey, I certainly wouldn't want to prove her wrong. Ah . . . has anyone else gone out riding today?" She tried to keep her voice casually interested.

The boy scratched his tousled head. "Not as far as I know, miss. Not yet, at least. Will ye
be wanting
me to come with ye?"

"Not today, thank you. You needn't worry. I'm used to taking care of myself, and I don't intend to go far.
Just down to the sea."
She hesitated for a moment. "If you wouldn't mind, don't mention to anyone that I've gone out. I'm not in the mood for company, and I wouldn't want anyone to think they had to catch up with me."

"Very good, miss. Mum's the word."

Lacey proved to be as much of a handful as Elizabeth had expected. Fortunately, the three dashing Trahernes were as noted for their horsemanship as for their good looks. Once out in the open countryside, she gave Lacey her head, and they raced across the
stubbled
fields at a spanking pace, the wind whipping through her hair and sending it streaming along behind her. Once a hoyden, always a hoyden, she thought with no real regret, giving herself up to the sheer pleasure of the sunny day, the wind in her face, and the feel of a strong, beautiful animal beneath her.

Starfield
Cove was a reasonable distance from Winfields, a distance that seemed far shorter on Lacey's back. Steep hills led down to the rocky shore, crisscrossed with rough pathways better suited to goats than human beings. A few scraggly pines provided a doubtful shelter, but the rock formations, which doubtless had shielded smugglers in the past and would do so again, would provide admirable cover for an inquisitive young lady. Tethering the exhausted and somewhat quieter Lacey at a good distance, she made her way down the sloping pathway, the pebbles rolling beneath her riding boots and several times threatening to send her plunging downward into the sea.

Stopping about halfway down, she found a comfortable spot behind a large outcropping of rock. It couldn't have been a better spot, with a perfect view of the shoreline. The only disadvantage was the distance to the sea for her myopic eyes, but then, she didn't care to be in the traitors' laps. The spot was both sunny and covered with soft, cushiony moss, and the headlong dash to the sea had tired her. Elizabeth, curling up against the rock to wait for her prey, fell sound asleep.

*
   
*
  
*

"What in God's name are you doing here?"

The voice broke through her pleasant dreams, and her eyes flew open to view the object of those reveries, albeit looking a great deal more grim and unfriendly than he had a few moments ago when Elizabeth had been in the arms of Morpheus. She stared up at Michael
Fraser
out of sleepy eyes, uncomfortably aware of her unbound hair, the two buttons undone at the top of her prim lavender habit, and her unexplainable presence.

"I, I beg your pardon?" she stammered, stalling for time, looking about uneasily. Down at the shoreline, too far away for her to make out any features, stood a man. Taller than
Wat
Simpkin
and strangely familiar was the mysterious Mr. Fredericks. He stared up at them with a wary intentness that communicated itself to Elizabeth's startled eyes.

"I said
,
what in God's name are you doing here?" Michael demanded roughly, reclaiming her attention.

A moment later she found herself yanked quite brutally to her feet. She stood there, squinting at him through the blazing sunlight as he deliberately stationed himself between her and the shoreline, his broad back obscuring her vision, and she felt a momentary rush of panic. He was suspected of killing at least one man, he was no doubt a desperate spy, and he looked frankly murderous at the moment. It would not take much: a rough shove that would send her hurtling down the pathway to the sea and the feet of his confederate, probably breaking her neck; a blow on the side of the head; those tanned, strong hands reaching around her throat . . .

Those strong, tanned hands grabbed her arm in a fierce grip and began dragging her back up the hill at a rapid
pace. Looking back toward the shoreline, she could see no trace of the man who had been staring up at them just moments ago.

"Do you have the faintest idea," Michael was demanding in a furious voice, "just how dangerous this game you're playing is? It's not an anagram or a French novel; it's a life or death proposition."

"What is?" she demanded weakly, struggling to keep up with him. "I just went for a peaceful ride down to the sea. What's the harm in that?"

"You know damned well what the harm in it is," he said roughly. "You expect me to believe you? That you just happened to choose
Starfield
Cove when there are a number of nearer, more congenial accesses to the sea you could have ridden to? You expect me to believe that you just happened to tether your horse out of sight and went to hide behind a boulder for want of something better to do?"

"I thought there might be some early wild strawberries," she said defensively.

Fraser
stopped dead still, and Elizabeth, still moving at his breakneck pace, barreled into him full force. He caught her before she fell, holding her at arm's length. The grim expression had softened somewhat, and there was a reluctant quirk to his well-shaped mouth. "I could almost believe you, Elizabeth. For your sake I'd like to, but I don't dare. If you do not curb your meddling and obviously insatiable curiosity, I will have to lock you in your room."

She stared up at him in amazement. "I didn't give you leave to call me by my given name," she said lamely.

"No, you didn't. And as a matter of fact, I don't think
I will. Elizabeth is far too formal for a ramshackle female such as you. You're a Lizzie if ever I saw one."

"I'm Miss Traherne," she shot back, at a loss to deal with this abrupt change in personality.

"What you are is damnably interfering, and I can't afford to waste my time and energies looking out for you," he said frankly. They were at the top of the cliff by this time, and Lacey eyed her with deceptive passivity from her spot beside Fraser's huge black stallion.

"You aren't going to get away with it, you know," Elizabeth said abruptly, daringly. "Someone will catch you before you can find the papers. Sir Henry, or the general, or someone will stop you."

The expression on his tanned face was more harassed than dangerous. "Aided and abetted by you, no doubt," he said wearily. "Leave it alone, Lizzie. If you don't, I can't answer for the consequences."

"Is that a threat?" she asked in steady tones, trying to ignore the pleasure she felt in the sound of his deep, slow voice saying "Lizzie."

"More in the nature of a warning.
I'm not about to satisfy your immense curiosity by giving you any explanations or excuses. You've somehow managed to stumble onto far too much knowledge already, and the less you
know,
the better. Be a good girl and mind your own
business,
and everything might possibly come 'round right in the end."