A Most Scandalous Engagement Page 12

  Both young men bowed to her before regaling their family with the horse they hoped to purchase soon. They didn’t mention why they were waiting to pursue the sale, but it wasn’t her business.

  Before they went down to dinner, Lucy gave Elizabeth an excited glance, then cleared her throat to capture her family’s attention.

  “Got a frog in there?” Bernard taunted, elbowing William.

  Lucy made a face. “For your information, Elizabeth has exciting news.”

  They all turned to her expectantly, and she found herself blushing again. “Although the announcement will be in the papers tomorrow, I cannot keep my silence tonight. I’m engaged to be married.”

  She could not help glancing at William first. He studied her—was that a gleam of shock in his green eyes?

  “Congratulations, Lady Elizabeth!” Lady Gibson said before William could speak.

  The older woman enveloped her in a hug.

  “Congratulations,” William said, while his brother off-handedly mumbled the same. “Who’s the lucky man?”

  That made her feel better. “Mr. Peter Derby.”

  She immediately realized that she had better become used to the reactions of Society, for Lady Gibson’s smile faded a bit and Bernard openly gaped. William only continued to smile, and she wasn’t certain whether to take that as disinterest or trust in her judgment. He should trust her, for after all, Peter was a perfectly fine man who would make any woman hap—

  What was wrong with her mind? It was as if this false engagement had rattled everything she believed for her future.

  Lucy’s words rushed out. “They’ve known each other all their lives. Isn’t it romantic?”

  Lady Gibson succeeded in hiding any more doubt. “How wonderful, Lady Elizabeth. I hope you will be very happy.”

  And then they all went in to dinner, where the discussion went back to horses. Elizabeth knew the subject well and was able to ask knowledgeable questions about the breed William was looking for. Soon they were carrying on a spirited conversation about men’s saddles versus ladies’ saddles. Elizabeth made him laugh more than once, and told herself that the day was a success.

  It unnerved her, however, that she almost had to convince herself.

  By late the next morning, after the newspapers had been devoured, the invitations began to arrive. Elizabeth knew everyone was interested in the reasons for her engagement and that she would be the focus of all the gossip for a while.

  Let them talk, she thought with satisfaction. The more they believed, the more Thomas would believe he should leave her alone.

  One of the letters, hand delivered, was Mary Anne Derby’s polite rejection of the shopping invitation, without even a suggestion of a date that would be more suitable for her. But the battle to win over Mary Anne was hardly over, Elizabeth thought, not after only one brief engagement of their forces.

  Peter called for her, and she was disappointed that a rain shower caused them to ride in his family carriage rather than the phaeton. When they were seated across from each other, she told him so.

  “Nonsense,” he said. “This only gives us an opportunity to continue your lessons.”

  She studied him warily. “What do you mean?”

  “Have you ever ridden in a carriage with the man you admire?”

  “I have.”

  “And did he look only at you?”

  “We weren’t alone,” she said tightly. This conversation felt wrong on so many levels.

  “But what would you do if you were?”

  She hesitated.

  “You would smile and make polite conversation, as you’ve been taught.”

  “Make your point, Peter. It will not be long before we arrive at your town house. And I would never be alone with him, unless we were riding in an open carriage, with servants just behind us. The only reason we’re alone is that everyone thinks we’re engaged.” Her words and voice sounded defensive, flustered, and she hated appearing so before him.

  “If you can’t be alone with him,” he murmured in a husky voice, “you must make him wish you were.”

  Her mouth sagged open; then she gave a start when she felt the toe of his boot touch her slipper. “Peter—”

  “Just hear me out. Imagine his surprise when you touch him. He’ll think you did it accidentally, and then when you do it again, he’ll know it was on purpose.”

  “I cannot possibly do something so . . . obvious.”

  “Has subtlety worked up to now?”

  She hesitated, then murmured thoughtfully, “No, it hasn’t. But he’ll think me too free with my affections.”

  “Wouldn’t you rather take the chance?”

  He kept his boot beneath her skirts, rubbing along the outside length of her slipper, then along the top. She had her feet pressed tightly together, but instead of wedging them apart, he began to trail his boot up the line between her calves, bunching her skirts over his lower leg.

  “Peter!” she hissed, disturbed by the way her pulse beat loudly in her ears at the cool touch of leather on her silk stockings.

  “Aren’t you forced to consider me?” he asked. “Then he’ll think about what he’d do if you were alone, how he’d come to sit beside you”—he rose above her, then sank onto the bench at her side—“how you might welcome him.”

  “Welcome?”

  Though she leaned away from him, it only allowed him to bend over her. He braced himself with his arm on the far side of her legs. With the windows closed against the rain, the carriage felt overheated and damp, making her skin flushed and her mouth parched. She looked away, unable to meet his gaze, trying to pretend she could see out the rain-streaked window. When she felt the faintest touch along her temple, she realized he was nuzzling her there with his nose.

  And then the carriage slowed to a stop. “You can move away now,” she said.

  She gave him a push, and he laughed and fell back on the bench.

  “I can feel it all tight inside you, Elizabeth,” he said softly, his eyes gleaming. “All that wildness, longing to be free.”

  She was glad a footman opened the door, or she would surely have hit him with her reticule. She was suddenly feeling so overwhelmed by this charade, necessary though it was.

  Mrs. Derby met them in the entrance hall, sinking into a deep curtsy that was so humble as to be embarrassing.

  Elizabeth raised her up. “Please, Mrs. Derby, there is no need for such formality. Soon I will be another daughter to you.”

  Though Mrs. Derby blushed and smiled, Mary Anne, standing in the doorway to the drawing room beside her brother James, looked anything but pleased. Elizabeth wanted to sigh. She was not winning over Peter’s sister.

  And a small, guilty voice inside her said that Mary Anne had the right of it.

  This engagement was only for a few weeks until Christopher returned, she told herself. By then she might have some answers for Peter about Mary Anne’s behavior—and then Mary Anne could go back to hating her, this time for supposedly breaking Peter’s heart.

  Elizabeth glanced up at him, remembering to give him her sweetest smile. She was beginning to wonder if he even had a heart to break.

  Mrs. Derby looked at her in confusion, as if she suddenly didn’t know how to treat her. Elizabeth took the older woman’s arm and walked with her side by side into the drawing room.

  “I simply never saw this coming,” Mrs. Derby said, shaking her head.

  “And I neither, ma’am. For all those years, I saw Peter only as a friend.”

  “What changed your mind?” Mary Anne asked.

  Elizabeth ignored the faint air of belligerence as she smiled up at Peter. “Now that I’ve been out for several years, I felt that I’d met most of the men. None of them seemed to compare at all to Peter.”

  James gave a faint snort, and Peter smiled wickedly at his brother. Mrs. Derby sniffed and dabbed at her tears with a handkerchief.

  Mary Anne was only suspicious. “But what about when the duke returns? C
ertainly he might want a say in your plans.”

  “My mother has approved the match,” Elizabeth responded happily. “And I’m certain Peter can handle himself when he and my brother discuss the marriage settlement. I can barely wait until then, so we can set a date.”

  “In a hurry?” Mary Anne asked.

  “Mary Anne!” Mrs. Derby scolded. “That is too forward, young lady.”

  “No, please, I understand,” Elizabeth hastened to say. “Mary Anne, you have every right to question me. Perhaps I can settle your fears if you go for a ride with me.” If she could help Peter with his sister, her guilt might not be such a heavy burden.

  Mary Anne opened her mouth, probably to decline, but Mrs. Derby clapped her hands together.

  “How wonderful, Lady Elizabeth! Mary Anne will be happy to attend.”

  Elizabeth waited for Mary Anne to protest, but both her brothers were watching her, and her hesitation lengthened into acquiescence.

  “I’ll call for you at nine tomorrow morning,” Elizabeth said.

  Mary Anne gave a single nod.

  Mrs. Derby turned back to Elizabeth. “Peter tells me that your mother has graciously offered to host your engagement party. I would like to offer my help in any way.”

  “Of course! My mother has just begun to make guest lists, and she would appreciate a list of your relatives.”

  “Oh, they’ll all want to come,” Mrs. Derby gushed. “We have several living farther to the north, so with some notice, I do believe even they’ll travel for the wonderful event.”

  “You mean Aunt Virginia and Uncle Cecil?” James asked. “It has been a long time since we’ve seen them.”

  Elizabeth had been watching Mary Anne as much as possible and seemed to be the only one who saw her stiffen and look away at this discussion. It disturbed her that Mary Anne was so reluctant to have her as a sister-in-law. Although they weren’t good friends, she had thought they’d always been easy with one another. This was simply more proof that she had been far too ignorant about the emotions of others, too wrapped up in her own hard-won complacency.

  For several minutes before dinner, the conversation revolved around the engagement party, until at last the meal was served. Elizabeth had to try hard to effect an expression of enjoyment, and she sensed that lying to his family wasn’t so easy for Peter either.

  After dinner, rather than separating, the men returned to the drawing room with the women. Mary Anne soon excused herself, and Elizabeth murmured to Peter that she needed a moment of privacy. Instead, she followed Mary Anne, and found her right where she imagined she would be—in the billiard room.

  Mary Anne was already deep in concentration as she studied the table. Elizabeth remained in the corridor, peering in to watch her. Each shot was a study in precise, calculated movements. Her face showed no emotion, as if she could immerse herself in the game and put aside what she didn’t want to think about.

  Elizabeth gave a start when she felt a hand on her elbow. She looked up to find Peter watching her, then gesturing with his head down the corridor. She followed him into a small parlor where needlework bags rested beside the sofa and a deck of cards waited in the center of a small table by the window.

  “Did you think I misled you about the billiards?” he asked dryly.

  “Of course not. I simply wanted to confirm that her frustration with me tonight led her to play the game. Have you noticed that pattern?”

  “No, but then I have not thought to study it before these last few days. It makes sense. When one is concentrating on an objective, one can forget unpleasant emotions.”

  “Speaking from experience?” It was her turn to affect a dry tone.

  “The only thing I’m concentrating on right now is you.”

  “And perhaps that is what’s bothering Mary Anne.”

  His smile faded. “Yes, I’ve wondered the same thing. I haven’t been able to spend as much time with her—and that started before our engagement,” he added.

  “Your railway investments.”

  He nodded.

  “Matthew helped you somehow?” she asked.

  “Who told you that?”

  “Emily, I believe. She mentioned that you and he were in discussion together about investing.” She hesitated, feeling as if he’d somehow retreated from her, though he hadn’t moved a step. “Surely it wasn’t supposed to be a secret.”

  “No. Or else everyone would think I had not earned the right to marry you.” He let his finger trail along her cheek.

  He was already changing the direction of the conversation back to their false engagement, back to the caresses that so aroused her. It wasn’t her place to interrogate him—she didn’t want to be interrogated herself, but . . .

  “If your working with Matthew wasn’t a secret, then why are you so remote about it?”

  “Remote?”

  He kept touching her, sliding a wayward curl back behind her ear, making her shiver.

  “I just admitted I’d worked with him,” he continued. “I had much to learn about the railways, and he put me in touch with friends who could help. There’s no special meaning here, Elizabeth.”

  She didn’t like how strange he could make her feel now, with just a look or a touch. He confused her, made her skin sensitive and hot, made her long for things she shouldn’t. She was determined to have a safe, easy marriage, without all these riotous sensations that made her doubt her sanity, that made her think she wasn’t the proper girl she’d molded herself into.

  Chapter 12

  That night, as Peter stood at the entrance to Lord Ludlow’s ballroom with Elizabeth at his side, everything felt a bit unreal. Never had the ton noticed his introduction at such affairs, until his name was linked with hers. He’d been anonymous, his liaisons with women his own business. From now on everything he did would be fodder for gossip—even everything he’d done in the recent past.

  And if the gossips wanted more, they could dig deeper—but he knew no one involved would talk about that sensitive time. He hated having those secrets on his soul, the bitterness at his own behavior that seemed to be lingering too long.

  As their names were announced, Peter focused on the night and the part he played. He glanced at Elizabeth and exchanged smiles. She looked radiant in white satin tonight, her black hair exotic and darkly enticing, her gown like the stars to the darkness of the night sky. He felt natural and right at her side.

  He reminded himself that it was all temporary, that he could only enjoy her kisses briefly. But he’d understood that from the beginning. He found it wasn’t so easy to accept anymore.

  It was his worry that went deeper. She had posed for that nude painting for some reason she couldn’t—wouldn’t—discuss. It altered everything he thought about her. He wanted her happy, not worried about a man’s threats. Much as she thought their false engagement would protect her until her brother’s return, he didn’t think it would be that easy.

  As they descended the wide, curved staircase into the ballroom, Elizabeth was immediately surrounded by excited young ladies. Peter stood on the outside, smiling when any of them sent shocked glances his way. They chattered so quickly he couldn’t tell who was speaking.

  “You never even mentioned Mr. Derby!”

  “Wasn’t he only a friend?”

  “Didn’t you once try to interest him in Miss Alden?”

  At that, Elizabeth sent him rueful smile and a shrug, before saying, “And then I realized I was terribly jealous, and I could not give him up.”

  Peter lost track of their conversation when a hand came down firmly on his shoulder. He turned to see several men, sometime suitors to Elizabeth, regarding him in amazement.

  “However did you catch Lady Elizabeth Cabot?”

  “She was supposed to marry the highest aristocrat!”

  “How could you not tell us?”

  He felt Elizabeth’s hand slide underneath his arm, saw her sweet smile as she boldly leaned her head against his shoulder.

>   “I swore Mr. Derby to secrecy,” she said, her smile wicked.

  How easy it was to use the truth when one could. The men gaped at her.

  “I wanted his attention all to myself,” she continued. “I had to know if he shared my feelings.”

  “And since I do,” Peter said, “I believe it is time to dance with my fiancée.”

  They left the young people behind, even as Elizabeth whispered to him, “That was fun!”

  “Fun?” he asked in surprise.

  “Doing the unexpected.”

  “Another sign of your returning recklessness,” he teased.

  “It is not reckless to hope that people realize that I want more from life than to marry exactly as expected.”

  “So your young man isn’t in the usual noble group you were expected to choose from?”

  She bit her lip, eyes evasive, and he laughed softly.

  “You don’t need to tell me his name,” he said, sweeping her into his arms for a waltz. “At this rate, I’ll deduce it myself.”

  She put her nose up in the air and didn’t answer.

  Any dance with Elizabeth was always exhilarating, but tonight felt . . . different. The crowds parted to watch them, other couples moved aside to allow them to dance through. She felt wonderful in his arms, delicate and lovely, strong and supple. He enjoyed the curve of her back beneath his hand, the way she took his lead without making him feel as if he dragged her along. He smiled down into her eyes, not needing to remind himself too much to look proud and humbled and love-struck all at the same time.

  He didn’t forget that she was wary about these new feelings they shared. But tonight no one could see that. Her smile was soft, yet dazzling, and she looked at no one else, as if she were drowning in his eyes.

  Inwardly, he chastised himself for such romantic drivel, but he told himself it helped him maintain the illusion she was so desperate to portray.

  At last he had to give her up and watch her dance with other men. He made sure to send each man a narrow-eyed warning as they claimed her, silently reminding them that she had a protector now.