Viscount Can Wait, The EPB

by Tremayne, Marie

  “Am I to consider that an offer of marriage?”

  Now Rosa’s eyes had grown huge. Her large green orbs studied Eliza closely from the nearby velvet-cushioned couch.

  Landry’s back straightened and he smoothed a hand over his cravat. He allowed himself a small smile.

  “Surely you cannot be surprised, as I have made my intentions known throughout the course of the season,” he offered, covering her hand once again. “But, yes. Lady Eliza, I wish to have you for my wife. I can think of nothing that would please me more.”

  His words grated on her. It was impossible not to notice the differences between Evanston’s repeated heartfelt pleas, and Landry’s calculated bid for her hand. In fact, mere feet away, Rosa sat observing this interaction, yet might as well have been absent altogether. Sir James paid her no mind, and Eliza knew that, while they could perhaps grow closer over the years, it was more likely that he would continue as he had begun—by viewing her daughter as somewhat of an annoyance.

  Three light taps upon her right shoulder brought her out of her troubled thoughts, and she turned to find Rosa standing beside her, her diminutive hands curled tightly around her new china doll. Eliza leaned over to receive her quiet whisper in her ear.

  “But Mama, what about Thomas?”

  She jerked back in surprise, but Rosa’s concerned gaze did not waver. Her uncharacteristic seriousness alerted Eliza to the extent of her anxiety. She was young, to be sure, but she was also highly intuitive. To make this decision without, at the very minimum, consulting with her daughter, would not be giving her the credit she was due. After all, Eliza’s next husband would be acting as Rosa’s father.

  Eliza tipped a meaningful look at Rosa, hoping to silence her for now on the subject. Then, again, slid her hand out from beneath Landry’s insistent grasp. She met his eyes.

  “I would like some time to consider, please.”

  Sir James appeared shocked. He opened his mouth to speak multiple times, before finally organizing his thoughts into a stuttering reply.

  “I—well, of course. Certainly. But . . . have you not had sufficient time to consider the . . . possibility . . . of my proposal already? Am I somehow lacking?”

  She rose from her seat and took Rosa’s hand in her own. “No, Sir James. You are an admirable man. It’s simply that I have not yet properly weighed certain aspects of the situation. As such, I am unable to provide my answer this very moment.”

  Landry rose from his chair, a pensive expression creasing his brow. “Perhaps I can help alleviate your apprehension by answering whatever questions still trouble you.”

  Eliza crossed to tug on the bellpull with Rosa in tow, who managed to lunge towards the couch to claim her cloth moppet on the way. “I believe you already have, sir, but I thank you for your understanding.” She smiled gently. “I will not prolong the delay . . . you shall have my answer by tonight.”

  Roberts opened the drawing room doors, leaving Landry little choice but to perform a stunned bow and make his exit. She shut the door, then turned to lean against it, staring down at her daughter.

  “Talk to me, little one.”

  “Are you going to marry him?” Rosa asked.

  “I’d been considering it.” Eliza paused. “What do you think?”

  “I thought you were going to marry Thomas.”

  She lowered down to one knee to place both hands on Rosa’s shoulders. “And why did you think that?”

  The little girl’s eyes dropped. “So it’s not true?”

  Eliza sternly checked herself at the excitement that bloomed at the mere thought of marrying Lord Evanston. To hear it suggested by her daughter made the possibility feel all the more real.

  “Right now, I haven’t agreed to marry anyone.”

  Rosa’s eyes raised, shining with happiness. “Good. You can marry Thomas, then. I don’t like that other man.”

  Eliza chuckled in amusement at the finality with which Rosa declared her opinion. However, she sobered quickly at the remembrance of what had recently passed between her brother and Thomas. Their relationship was severed; all trust between the men was broken. If marrying Evanston had been out of the question before, it wasn’t even a recognized possibility now.

  The thought of the viscount, alone, after the harsh assessment of his character by a man whom he’d considered to be his friend, caused her vision to blur with tears. Knowing she had added to his misery gave her no end of shame. He could be cursing her name at this very moment.

  A soft knock upon the door caused Eliza to stand, and she heaved an irritated sigh. How many unwelcome interruptions could there be in one day? She swiped a sleeve at her eyes.

  “Yes?”

  Roberts’s salt-and-pepper head appeared once more with a salver balanced neatly in his hand. “A letter from Lawton Park, my lady.”

  She hoped to find a brief note from Clara but soon her heart sank, for resting upon the tray was a missive addressed to her in a familiar hand.

  It was a summons from her brother, William, the Earl of Ashworth.

  Thomas stumbled, drunk and bleary, from the rear exit of Putnam’s gaming club. He was far too intoxicated to feel his legs, or control them, for that matter. Luckily, there was a woman tucked under each of his arms, laughing loudly as they hauled him into the street, their hands straying greedily across the linen covering his chest.

  His eyes fell closed, distantly wishing it were Eliza touching him now and not these cackling pale things who preyed on wealthy drunken lords. There had been a time where he might not have cared whether these women followed him back home. But even in his current state of grief, he found himself solidly under Eliza’s spell. He attempted to shrug them off, only managing to stumble across the uneven ground instead.

  “Easy there, love!” exclaimed the one on his left. “Don’t want ye missing the curb—”

  His boot slipped on the grimy edge, and he dropped heavily, grunting as he hit the cobblestone. The women who’d been supporting him had not been very supportive at all, having fallen off to the side to lie in skirted heaps beside him, gasping noiselessly at the hilarity of the situation. He tried to push himself into a respectable seated position.

  Who am I trying to fool?

  No one, not even his friends, and certainly not Eliza Cartwick, thought of him as respectable. How many times could they say it, and in how many ways, before he finally believed them? Before he relinquished this folly of somehow deserving Eliza’s love?

  He finally righted himself to a slouching seated position, knees pulled up, arms resting on top of them. Thomas had overindulged as a way of forgetting what had taken place, not to dwell on it sadly, sitting amidst the muck of a London street. How was he to even find his way home? He’d made the trip from here a hundred times, yet he couldn’t remember ever having been so compromised by drink.

  “Yer in your cups now, m’lord,” said the other woman, who was clearly, likewise, in her cups. Her friend hooted in mirth. Their presence was an irritation. He hadn’t asked for their company, anyway. He tried to moisten his numb lips with his tongue.

  “Leave,” he slurred.

  The noise of a man’s shoes crunching against the grit of the road alerted him to another presence. He did not wish to be seen in his present state, but dimly acknowledged that it could probably not be avoided at this point. Oddly, the women who’d been accompanying him seemed to have vanished, and Thomas cast his blurry gaze upward to survey the newcomer. A bare hand stretched out to meet him.

  “Looks like you could use a lift,” said a gravelly voice.

  Too drunk to care about the man’s identity, and whether or not this was a good idea, he reached forwards to accept the offered hand. He was immediately pulled upward into a swaying, standing position. With his left eye swollen over from his skirmish with William, his vision was worse than it might normally be after a hard bout of drinking. He could only make out that the man was wearing a cap.

  “Thank you,” he said, breathing ha
rshly, certain he stunk of good brandy. Honestly, he was grateful for the assistance. The past few days, in particular, had not been kind to him. “What is your name, sir?”

  “That’s not especially important,” came the reply, the man still gripping his hand like a vise. “But Mrs. Varnham sends her regards.”

  A sudden sense of alarm flooded through him and he lurched clumsily away, but not before feeling the burning sear of the knife as it slid into his side. Evanston heard his own sharp intake of breath before his knees buckled, and his assailant spoke to him again from what now seemed like another world.

  “She only asked that I rough ye up a bit, but I reckon I like to do things my own way.”

  The man carelessly wiped the bloody blade across his pants, and Thomas, his senses sobered by the pain, listened to his attacker’s hasty retreat echoing between the buildings until the ground rushed up at him, the darkness finally pulling him under.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Matthew escorted Eliza through the hallway, the house curiously devoid of guests at the moment. She glanced cautiously in every direction, not wishing to encounter Sir James prior to her planned meeting with William.

  “Where has everyone gone?” she inquired.

  Glancing at her politely, the footman responded with a nod. “Lord Ashworth returned early from the shooting party, so the rest of the men are still outside. And since the weather is fine, the countess elected to take the ladies for a turn through the gardens.”

  He stopped at the polished oak door of the study and rapped quietly. They waited patiently for her brother’s answer, but none came. Just as Matthew raised his hand again, the portal swung open before them to reveal the earl, golden hair casually ruffled from his excursion outside, still clad in his tan shooting attire and boots. The footman stepped back, and William’s brief smile in his direction prompted a bow and a precipitous retreat. He then focused upon her.

  “Please,” he said, gesturing openly to the interior of the room. “I’d like to speak with you, if you will allow it.”

  Eliza’s gaze dipped to the floor, her nervousness making it difficult to meet his eyes directly. She gathered her skirts and brushed past him as she entered.

  “Indeed, I’d be a fool to come here at your request only to not allow it.”

  She seated herself in one of the two chairs that stood facing his desk to await him. Her brother let out a soft huff of amusement.

  “Fair enough,” he stated amicably, closing the door behind them. Rather than sitting in his usual place across the desk, William lowered down into the seat next to hers, rotating to rest his arm across the top of the worn brown leather so he could view her more comfortably. He was silent for a moment.

  “Are you in love with Lord Evanston?” he asked suddenly. At her startled, wide-eyed silence, he raised a hand. “No. Let me rephrase that. How long have you been in love with Lord Evanston?”

  He knows.

  A sort of terrified relief filtered through her limbs at being discovered. Then a jolt wracked her body at the clarity provided by her very own admission, an idea she had never allowed herself to seriously consider. Infatuation had been much easier to discount.

  I am in love with Lord Evanston.

  Eliza promptly burst into tears.

  She dug furiously through her reticule in an effort to find her handkerchief, too busy to observe the emotions traversing the earl’s face. Dragging it from the silk purse, she dabbed at her eyes for a few moments and finally raised her gaze to meet his.

  “How did you know?” she sniffed.

  “Well, if I hadn’t, your reaction now certainly would have confirmed it.” He shook his head. “Eliza, if only you’d been more open with me—”

  Her eyes flared. “Don’t patronize me, William. I was more than honest with Father, if you’ll recall, and you certainly didn’t hold back when it came to voicing your own opinions.”

  William stiffened, then had the grace to appear ashamed. “I suppose that is true. But I hope you know that our decisions were made with only your best interests at heart.”

  “I am aware.”

  “So then you are also aware that the Thomas of five years ago does not appear to be the same man who was with you in London. Nor is he the man who proposed to you earlier this week. In fact, he bears less resemblance, still, to the man who insisted how much he loved and admired you—despite knowing of my prejudices against him.” He raised his arm off the back of the chair to lean forwards, resting his elbows upon his knees, eyes locked onto hers. “Father had good reason to warn you away from him when he did.”

  “And now?” she asked, twisting the handkerchief through her fingers.

  Her brother sighed. “Clara has convinced me of the seriousness of his affection for you, plus there was the surprising attestation of your friend, Caroline. What’s more, I think he would be a good father to Rosa. I’ve seen his concern for her on more than one occasion. And I must admit to being swayed by the sincerity of his declaration, even if I still pummeled him for it.” William slapped the arm of the chair in exasperation. “But damn it, how am I supposed to know better if you never speak to me of the situation? If he never tells me of his desire to change, to become worthy of earning you somehow? The man proposed and never mentioned it to me . . . not even once!”

  Eliza shook her head. “It was all very surprising.”

  “Yes,” said William, rising to a stand and extending his hand to her. “I agree with that assessment, and it seems like Evanston may have been more surprised than anyone. For being such a renowned lover, the man is woefully inexperienced in matters of actual love. Which brings me to my next point.”

  She gripped his hand and allowed him to pull her out of her chair, raising her eyes to his.

  “Which is?”

  He leaned close to place a soft kiss upon her cheek, then smiled.

  “If you are willing, dear sister, then perhaps it’s time for you to make a proposal of your own.”

  To say Eliza was feeling elated might have been overstating things a bit, as there was still a considerable amount of trepidation. She departed the study feeling warmly for her brother, who had come to see things as they truly were, accepted them and bade her go forth to find Evanston.

  She wondered how the viscount would react. Would he tell her to go to hell? Or would his defenses crumble in light of her pleas? Eliza was filled with nervous energy, eager to convince Thomas that he should give her another chance . . . just one more chance . . . to prove herself to him. She told herself she would do whatever was necessary, all the while knowing that it could already be too late.

  Still, she felt a persistent smile tugging at her lips. Eliza hoped she would be able to suppress it sufficiently to give Landry a proper amount of respect when she refused his proposal. William had given her his blessing, but after all this time, she finally realized she’d never required it. She had needed her own permission to love Evanston—flawed, imperfect, glorious man that he was. Now that she had it, the very idea of settling on Sir James caused her stomach to roil unhappily, as did his aristocratic notion of how to parent her daughter.

  She could see now how Thomas adored Rosa, the ways he’d allowed his guard to lower, ever so slightly, in her presence; how he’d adored them all until they had cruelly ground him beneath the boot of their family’s judgment. The smile that she’d worn a moment before fell unceremoniously from her face.

  Eliza glanced anxiously around the empty halls, peering into the vacant rooms, wishing the guests had already returned from their outings. The need to be with Evanston had become nearly overwhelming, but she had a few things to take care of before her departure. An errant drift of female voices echoed through the house, and she hurried towards the front door to greet Clara and Caroline. Their expressions brightened with cautious optimism at her smile, the restraint dropping away altogether when Eliza pulled them in for an exuberant hug. The rest of the group tittered awkwardly behind the trio, unsure of what had provoke
d such an affectionate scene.

  “I’m leaving to find Thomas,” she whispered to her friends. “To ask if he will be my husband.”

  Clara uttered a happy cry, and Caroline’s eyes danced with laughter. They squeezed her more tightly into their circle.

  “Have you given Landry your answer?” asked Caroline.

  Eliza shook her head. “Not yet. I’d been hoping to see him before leaving, but I’d rather not wait for long. Rosa—”

  “—will be cared for,” interrupted Clara. “I will send my carriage to retrieve both her and her nursemaid.”

  Eliza’s shoulders dropped with relief and she hugged her friends with gratitude.

  “Thank you, so much, for everything. I can only assume you two were responsible for my surprise encounter with Thomas in the library?”

  Caroline looked appropriately shocked, but Clara was beyond affecting pretense, owning the plot with a sly grin. “After the way I ruined your ball by being kidnapped, I figured it only fair to provide you with a chance to indulge in a little scandal at my house party.”

  After one final laughing embrace, Clara called Matthew to request the carriage be brought around. Eliza stood on the steps of the house where she’d been raised, the sunlight warming her skin, ready to make a new beginning—a life of her choosing. A deep breath of fresh air renewed her sense of purpose as the clatter of horse hooves struck loudly against the drive.

  “Eliza!” came William’s voice from behind. “One moment!”

  She turned to face her brother, and he pressed a sealed letter into her hand, the red wax still tacky and warm to the touch.

  “Please give this to Evanston, when you see him.” A shadow of guilt passed across his features. “Although, I’m not certain he will want to read it.”

  Eliza ran her fingers thoughtfully over the parchment. “He’s ignored my letters in the past too.” She smiled. “I’ll do my best.”

  “Knowing now how he feels about you, I doubt your best will even be remotely required.” His gaze flicked up over her shoulder, and he nodded at the approaching group of men. “Good timing. Now you can conclude things here, before setting them right with Thomas.”