Chapter Four
Elise ran down the stairs. Bother. Late again. The Duchess of Bansfield and Lady Isodora were coming for tea. She entered the drawing room and abruptly stopped midstride. Elise rudely stood and stared at the woman who was demurely seated upon the settee. Lady Isodora was not a quiet, shy girl of eighteen as Elise had expected. Her Grace had mentioned Lady Isodora was making her debut but failed to allude to the fact that her daughter was closer to Elise’s age.
Lady Isodora smiled and slowly rose.
Rooted to the spot, Elise admired Lady Isodora’s mahogany hair, styled in an elegant chignon that highlighted her warm obsidian eyes. Lady Isodora was of a similar height, and while etiquette required her to greet her guest, Elise was for once speechless.
Lady Isodora broke the awkward moment by saying, “Lady Elise, it is a pleasure to meet you finally. My mama has… Is something the matter?”
Elise found her tongue as a worried look appeared on Lady Isodora’s sweet features. “Oh my no. I apologize for being so rude. I wasn’t expecting you to be…”
“Old?” Lady Isodora laughed. A hearty laugh, not a mousy giggle hidden behind a fan.
Elise’s cheeks heated with embarrassment at having her thoughts read.
Lady Isodora took a calming breath and said, “That is the reason I did not make my debut sooner. I have a terrible habit of saying whatever is on my mind. Mama and I had hoped I would grow out of the horrid tendency, yet I’m four and twenty, and my propensity to speak the truth has not alleviated.”
Oh, Lady Isodora and I are going to be fast friends. Elise spoke her first thought. “Isn’t Mr. Howlington of a similar age?”
Lady Isodora’s features reflected her shock. “Are you acquainted with Alistair?”
Interesting that Lady Isodora had referenced Mr. Howlington by his given name. Elise took the woman’s hand and pulled her toward the settee.
Sitting side by side, Elise answered, “I’ve not personally been introduced, but I have heard he is the heir to Viscount Hawkbridge and has inherited a crumbling estate up north.”
“Yes. The property doesn’t directly border Papa’s, but it is close. It may be much smaller than those owned by your brother or my papa, but it is large enough for a peer to set up a modest household.” Lady Isodora spoke of Mr. Howlington with pride, and the dreamy look that overcame her features every time she mentioned him clearly indicated her love and affection for the man. “It’s how we met. Alistair inherited at the age of ten. He often played with his cousin, the Earl of Hereford, our neighbor.”
If the couple had known each other for an age, it was doubtful that Mr. Howlington had ungentlemanly intentions. Elise would have to confirm her assumptions with Harold as soon as she could arrange a meeting. The thought of seeing him again set her heart racing.
She had buried the hopes and dreams of a life with the man long ago. The ton considered her on the shelf, a spinster, long in the tooth, too old to consider marriage. But what of an affair?
The prickling sensation along the back of her neck brought back vivid memories of the night she had lost her innocence. Harold’s lingering kisses had been exhilarating. She had let him explore every inch of her body with his hands and lips. In return, he had granted her the same luxury. Her fingertips tingled as if she had just run them over his chiseled chest and stomach. Her palms itched as if tickled by the hair that trailed from his navel down to his male member. Elise smiled at the memory of Harold’s wide-eyed reaction as she had lowered her head to place kisses upon him, starting at his chin and slowly making her way down his body. Running her tongue over the tops of her teeth, she recalled the feeling of his cock between her lips and in her mouth. The thrill of making Harold moan and beg had been intoxicating.
The stark reality was that her desire for more would not allow her to be satisfied with a dalliance. Her heart yearned for love. Even if they came to an agreement, Harold would grow tired of her, and her heart would be splintered once again. Knowing she couldn’t endure the loss of him again, she would have to keep her distance from the man.
Benedict strode into the room, snapping her back to the present. As always, he commanded everyone’s attention. He had become insufferable since inheriting the title. Chest puffed out, Benedict walked over to Lady Isodora, who had risen to greet Elise’s arrogant brother. He reached for her hand as she rose from a gracefully executed curtsy.
“The lovely Lady Isodora, I presume. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Lady Isodora’s cheeks turned pink as she replied, “The pleasure is certainly all mine, Your Grace.”
Benedict had always been able to charm the ladies and had up until recently held a reputation of being a rake who rivaled Harold. His title often meant the ton chose to ignore his many indiscretions.
He donned one of his more charismatic smiles. “Lady Isodora, will you be attending the Emsworth ball later this evening?”
“Yes, I shall be in attendance.”
Benedict’s gaze raked in Lady Isodora’s form. Good Lord, her brother couldn’t have been more obvious in his assessment of the woman before him. Would the sparkle in his eyes that typically appeared when he was conversing with Dorinda appear? No. Not a sparkle, but there was a glint in his eyes that reflected something else. What was it? Curiosity? Interest?
Benedict slowly released Lady Isodora’s hand. “Wonderful. Will you grant me the honor of the first waltz?”
“I’m sorry, your Grace, that is not possible, for I have already promised it to Mr. Howlington.” Lady Isodora’s eyes gleamed at the mention of her beau.
Benedict growled, “Howlington.” Shrugging as if he didn’t consider Howlington of any consequence, he asked, “Perhaps the supper dance then?”
Elise interjected, “Benedict, I thought you had already promised the supper dance to Dorinda.”
Benedict turned, shooting Elise a scowl so fierce it took her breath away. “I made no such request of Miss Arnet.”
Staring at her brother’s features, they reminded her of their papa and the glower he often used to communicate his displeasure. Benedict was turning into their papa. That being the case, he needed Dorinda more than he knew. Elise would have to ensure the two were in each other’s company more.
Elise rose and stood next to Lady Isodora, whose gaze had volleyed between the siblings. “Lady Isodora, would you care to venture out into the gardens and gain some air?”
Lady Isodora replied, “That would be marvelous. I’d love to see your stables. Do you have a mare? I so miss my Daisy. She’s getting old, and Papa thought it best she remain in the country.”
At Lady Isodora’s unladylike request, Benedict’s interest evaporated. “Elise, Mama has begged off from this evening’s activity. Thornston and I will escort you to the Emsworth ball tonight.”
With Lady Isodora at her side, Elise breezed past Benedict and said, “Very well. I’ll ensure I’m ready.”
Harold. The bounder. Elise was loathe to admit that she had been disappointed when Harold’s note had arrived informing her that he had an unexpected errand to perform and would not be able to take her on the carriage ride as promised. Why had she believed he would come for her? What she should be concerned about was what he had learned of Mr. Howlington not why her heart ached.
Chapter Five
Tugging at his cuff once more, Harold continued to fidget, impatient to see Elise again. He stood at the base of the opulent ducal stairs. The tapping of his foot echoed off the marble floor as the seconds ticked by.
The duke eyed Harold’s polished Hessian boots. “Cease.”
Harold stilled his foot and eyed Fairmont’s posture, rigid as if he was guarding against an attack. Fairmont had made it clear earlier that Harold was only to be in Elise’s company if he was present. Harold would have to seek out Fairmont’s permission to court Elise, but first, he wanted to talk to the lady herself. Would she welcome his renewed attention?
“It’s rumored you ended your a
ssociation with Ms. Vankish this afternoon.” While Fairmont had attempted to whisper, his deep voice resonated off the floors and walls. Harold was certain anyone within fifty feet would have heard the man’s statement.
Lifting a hand to the wound just above his brow, Harold nodded. He had been lucky to escape with a minor cut to the forehead. A knot settled in the pit of his stomach making him nauseous. How had Elise reacted to his note? He had been rather vague in his explanation of why he was unable to take her on the carriage ride as promised. It wasn’t the first promise to her he had broken, but it would be the last.
Harold closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest. He should have sent a note to his mistress to end their affair and kept his promise to Elise. What a dullard he was. The susurrus of slippers caused him to open his eyes only to have them fall upon the tip of a red slipper beneath a demure powder-blue gown. Raising his gaze, Harold found Elise glaring down at him.
She made her way down the last few remaining steps. Distracted by the plunging neckline of her dress, Harold was slow to take note the anger that radiated from her body.
Would the dimple she had once called irresistible, defuse her ire? Harold winged his arm out, and his lips curled into a grin, revealing the facial feature he rarely cared to share. “Good evening, Elise. You look stunning.”
He ignored Fairmont’s grumblings about formalities and reached down, grasping her hand and placing it upon his arm. Memories of her long elegant fingers threaded through his hair flooded his mind and sent blood pooling to areas of his anatomy that were unexpectedly rigid.
Elise met his gaze with cool eyes and a strained smile. “Lord Thornston, how kind of you to make an appearance.”
Her barb at his failure to appear earlier was not lost on him. Clearly, his dimple was not as alluring as it once had been. Elise hadn’t changed. Her light touch and distant demeanor meant only one thing. She was furious.
He released a sigh. Anastasia wasn’t the only woman he had managed to anger this afternoon.
Fairmont donned his hat and rapped his cane twice on the marble floor. “Let’s be off, shall we? I’d promised the lovely Miss Heart, the first dance.”
Harold caught Elise rolling her eyes at her brother’s declaration. “Do you not think it wise for Miss Heart to be the next Duchess of Fairmont?”
Elise’s body tensed. What was she hiding?
Who was Miss Heart? She must have had her come out while he remained on the outskirts of the beau monde. Exiled. All due to her papa. Did she know the truth? That her papa had staged the debacle with Lady Clarissa to ostracize him from the ton? Sweat beaded at his temples. He had refused the old duke’s bribe to flee to America. Unable to stomach the idea of being an ocean away, he opted to stay on home soil but to only watch over Elise from a distance. He should have confronted her papa. He wished he had consulted with Elise instead of slinking into the demi-monde.
No longer willing to be a bystander, his discussion with Mr. Howlington earlier had forced him to realize what a fool he had been for far too long. Harold was intent on reforming his ways and transforming himself into a man worthy of her hand. A man who would undeniably pass her insufferable brother’s test.
Decision solidified, the weight he had borne on his shoulders for years lifted. Lightness soared through his heart.
As he peered down at Elise, she lowered her eyes, avoiding his gaze. “What are you not sharing with me?”
Elise stood on one foot and drew a circle with the toe of the other. It was a habit she exhibited when she was trying to formulate the right words. “Miss Heart is a reflection of her namesake. She is kind and caring.”
Harold escorted her through the front door. “But perhaps not strong enough in character for your brother.”
“I believe Dorinda would be Benedict’s equal in all the ways that matter.”
Handing Elise up into the coach, Harold felt himself frown. “Miss Arnet?”
Settling next to Fairmont across from Elise, Harold ruminated on Elise’s words: in all the ways that matter. To what ways did she refer?
Fairmont reached into his breast pocket, and instead of withdrawing a flask, a fan appeared. “I believe this belongs to Miss Arnet. Elise, would you be a dear and return it to her for me?”
Rather than accepting the fan, Elise sat back on the bench and eyed her brother suspiciously, then asked, “Benedict, how did it come about to be in your possession?”
“That is none of your concern.” Benedict dropped the fan onto Elise’s lap and then focused his attention out the coach window.
The streets were crowded with carriages ferrying members of the ton about town. Harold would normally be comfortably seated at his club at this hour. He tended only to emerge once the foray of polite society quieted. The short distance to Emsworth’s residence was taking them longer than if they had attempted the journey on foot, but Harold was enjoying every moment. Elise had remained silent, but the fidgeting of her hands and the swift looks out the coach window reflected the restlessness of her mind. Her gaze fell to the fan and then bore into her brother.
Harold nudged Fairmont to garner his attention. “Entertain me. Tell me what it is about Miss Heart that you deem worthy of your esteemed interest.”
Benedict slid him a look that only a duke could master.
Harold continued, “Did she pass your duchess test?”
His question must have caught Elise’s attention, for she momentarily removed her gaze from her brother to look at him directly, only for it to return as she asked, “Benedict, what silliness is Lord Thornston referring to?”
“I have established a list of queries that the woman I marry must answer.”
Harold’s curiosity got the best of him. “Pray share with us what qualities these questions will reveal to assist you in determining the future Duchess of Fairmont?”
Benedict cleared his throat as if he was to impart the most critical citation. “Well, to start, she must be of impeccable breeding, thus able to recite her lineage.”
What lineage would Fairmont deem suitable for Elise? Harold couldn’t recall any evidence of madness or other less desirable traits among his ancestors.
Shifting under his sister’s gaze, Benedict continued, “I’d prefer she be easy on the eyes, and therefore must have knowledge of current fashion.”
Did Elise still find him handsome? Harold assessed the duke’s ensemble. Fashionable, if not on the conservative side. His own clothing was better described simply as functional, no extravagant waistcoats or intricately tied cravats.
The crease between Elise’s brows deepened adorably as Benedict continued. “The future duchess will understand the ways of the ton and be able to navigate its waters and assist me in my political pursuits; therefore, the ability to read, write, and recite current events will be imperative.”
Elise leaned slightly forward, capturing her brother’s full attention. “What of like-mindedness? Compassion? Of love? What about your happiness?”
Is that what Elise had been seeking all these years?
Years ago, he and Elise had been of like minds.
In his youth he had been far more compassionate, but could he be again?
His love for her had certainly not diminished, and he would do everything in his power to ensure her happiness. He needed her to give him another chance.
Fairmont shook his head. “Love and happiness are not in my future. I would have thought that you had grown out of believing in fairy tales, sister. I am the Duke of Fairmont with duties and responsibilities. What I seek is a wife who will understand and perform her role as the Duchess of Fairmont with respectability.”
“You bear an enormous responsibility, Benedict. You should seek a partner as a wife, someone who has intelligence and acts in kindness, a woman who is your equal.”
As the coach rolled to a stop, Fairmont responded, “You are in no position to lecture me on what I should or should not be searching for in a wife. You have yet to obtain the interest
of any man worthy of your rank.”
Harold followed Fairmont out of the coach and stood to the side. As Elise alighted, she muttered, “My rank! What of me as a person?”
Stepping forward before Fairmont could claim his sister, Harold took hold of Elise’s hand and gently squeezed. The heightened color in her cheeks was a pleasant sight. Was it due to her ire or a result of his touch?
“We should arrive in time before the doors close.” Fairmont led their party up the stairs.
Harold didn’t recall his friend incurring a head injury, but that was the only reasonable explanation for the man to have changed into the pompous ass that walked before him. He leaned down to speak to Elise, but a whiff of expensive French perfume hit his nose.
Lady Balenger’s skirts brushed against his leg as she passed and greeted him with a knowing grin. “Lord Thornston, I’m happy to see you… again.”
Ignoring the manipulative witch, he glanced down as Elise withdrew her hand from his grasp and caught up to Fairmont, clutching his arm for dear life.
Elise caught Benedict’s gaze; actual concern shone in her brother’s eyes. “Elise, whatever is the matter?”
She squeezed his arm. “It is only correct etiquette I am announced with you and not Thornston.”
Elise quickened her steps tugging Benedict along with her. She needed to put some distance between herself and the man gossips reported as having cavorted with half the married ladies of the ton. She had not believed the rumors that had floated about this past decade. What a fool she had been. The undeniable glimmer in Lady Balenger’s eyes obviously suggested her intimate knowledge of Harold. Had he entertained the woman in his bed, or was the knowing look related to another matter?
And why did Elise continue to give him the benefit of the doubt? The answer remained the same. In her heart, she trusted him. Harold was a man of honor and warmth; he just hadn’t loved her enough a decade ago to stand up to Papa. For years she had agonized over why he had not asked her to run away with him to Gretna Green. She had loved him so deeply that she would have agreed to the scandalous scheme, not caring what shame it would have brought on her family.
Desires of Lady Elise Page 4
