P.S. I Loathe You (Regency Rendezvous Book 8)

by Diane Darcy

  Was it her imagination, or was the crowd getting louder? Were more people glancing her way, and staring? She could tell her color was high, even as she held her head up.

  Society’s condemnation was usually swift and brutal.

  It could simply be her guilty conscience, and the fact that she knew she’d been overheard, but she could see this just wasn’t going to end well.

  She’d almost convinced herself that she was being paranoid in believing everyone was staring, when she saw Mrs. Bannerman introduce her daughter to Alexander.

  Lizzie’s stomach clenched. So, word had spread that he was available.

  She glanced around the room again, and noted the different expressions on the faces around them. Vicious, titillated, and cruel as they whispered behind gloved hands and fans.

  And then there was the pity.

  She also noted her small group of friends had dwindled.

  She’d seen this happen before, when a young woman of stature had eloped, marrying beneath herself and then attended a ball with her parents.

  She been shunned, talked about, and had eventually left early.

  Never in her wildest dreams had Lizzie imagined she would ever come under such scrutiny. But she’d brought it on herself, hadn’t she? One didn’t break society’s rules and escape unscathed.

  “Julianna, you might want to move away from me.”

  Julianna turned, her tiara glittering as her eyes widened with surprise. “What? What do you mean by that?”

  “I do believe I’m about to have some scandal attached to my name, and I think it would be for the best if you were not tainted by association.”

  Looking alarmed, Juliana glanced around the room. Her jaw firmed, and she slipped her arm inside of Lizzie’s and held tight. “Do you know what’s happening?”

  “I broke off my engagement with Alexander and was overheard.”

  The two of them looked to where Alexander now had three young ladies chatting with him, as well as their mothers. “Good Lord. The vultures didn’t wait long, did they?”

  Apparently Alexander was to be exempt from the shame of their broken engagement.

  Lizzie watched as her mother crossed the room toward her, her expression composed, but Lizzie could see the worry all the same.

  When she arrived, she put a protective arm around her waist. “Lizzie, I think it’s time we went home.”

  Lizzie nodded, torn between wanting to run, and wanting to stay and face down the gossips. She knew it wouldn’t do any good, and might even make her look foolish. “I’m ready to go, Mother.”

  She turned to her friend and grasped her hands. “I’ll let you know what happens.” Then she quickly crossed the room with her mother, thankful her sister hadn’t attended tonight.

  She saw her father break away from the group he was in as he moved to join them. “Are you ready to go?” He said it almost naturally, as if they weren’t scurrying out of the room to avoid gossip.

  “Yes,” Mother agreed, and the three of them, heads held high, walked up the stairs as if every single pair of eyes in the place wasn’t upon them.

  No doubt her burning cheeks gave away her lack of composure. It was bad enough that she had done this to herself. But the fact that her parents and siblings would have to share in the shame of it … that was what she almost couldn’t bear.

  When was she going to learn to control her temper?

  Chapter Nine

  Alexander watched as Lizzie was escorted from the room and tried to keep his flaring temper under control.

  These people were ridiculous.

  Nosing into their business, and spreading it about as if it were fodder for their entertainment. What he and Lizzie chose to do was none of their concern!

  Hands clasped behind his back, he stood ramrod straight as he watched Lizzie’s shunning, while those same people dragged their daughters over to meet him. Was he not to blame as well?

  The entire spectacle was absurd.

  If he didn’t think he’d make things worse, and if he didn’t believe it would make Lizzie hate him more, he’d chase after her.

  That would give them all something more to talk about, wouldn’t it? And add a whole new level of speculation to the drama. But he certainly didn’t want her to marry him because she felt pressured into it.

  He wished he knew what to do about the situation. He didn’t like feeling out of control.

  Lord Browning came and stood beside him, his dark good looks getting him giggling attention from a nearby group of ladies which he ignored. “Interesting thread of gossip going through the crowd tonight.”

  “So there is.”

  “I’d have pegged you as a man who didn’t like to have a starring role in such comedies.”

  “Ye’d have been right.”

  “Since I didn’t hear an announcement being made, I take it someone overheard your conversation?”

  Alexander took a deep breath, and released it. “That would be correct.”

  Lord Browning seemed to hesitate for a moment. “I have to say, it’s particularly vicious against your ladylove. Any chance it’s false and the two of you are happily planning your nuptials?”

  “I’ve been assured, twice now, that will never be the case.”

  “Ah. Well, do let me know if I can be of assistance. I’d love nothing more than to help you out of this pickle. A word in the right ear, a bit of information that needs placing just so. I’m your man.”

  “Thank you, my lord, I knew I could count on you.”

  “In the meanwhile, what do you say we exit the premises and go find something more entertaining to do?”

  Alexander set his drink down. “Lead the way; I’m right behind you.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  ~~~

  “Lizzie, what happened?”

  They’d barely left and already Lizzie could tell the carriage ride was to be a long one.

  Her mother sighed at her lack of reaction. “By the time my good friend Mrs. Rose told me what was being said, it was all over the ballroom. Did you truly reject Captain MacGregor in front of Lady Nelson, Lady Somerset, and Lady Morton?”

  Lizzie let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry, Mother. I truly am. I believed we were alone and I lost my temper with Alexander.”

  “But, Lizzie,” her father sounded genuinely confused. “As of three days ago you were still planning to marry him. What has changed?”

  She could see her parents were openly concerned. And probably not just about her, either. What this could mean to their family could be disastrous.

  “I was just so upset! I poured my heart out in that letter I sent to him, and he didn’t bother to read it!”

  “On purpose?” Mother sounded surprised.

  “Yes! No! I don’t know …”

  Lizzie closed her eyes, feeling foolish and miserable. “I don’t know why I said what I did. I certainly didn’t know we’d be overheard.”

  They rode in silence for a moment, the sounds of the horses’ hooves, of people outside the carriage, of other vehicles, filtering into the interior.

  “Lizzie, part of the rumor going around included the fact that you been seen at a séance. And that you’d been seen kissing Alexander in a carriage. Is any of that true?”

  Dismay hit her hard. Mother sounded so disappointed in her; she wished she could just lie and tell her that it wasn’t.

  “It is true, Mama.”

  Her father drew in a deep breath. “At this point, I believe the best thing we can do is leave for the country. We’ll return to Huntington Hall for the rest of the season. I can ask around, and perhaps eventually, we can make you a new match.”

  Her stomach hollowed, and tears filled her eyes.

  She didn’t want a new match. But she’d brought this on herself, with her ridiculous temper, and doubted that Alexander cared about her wishes anymore.

  Knowing her family was going to have to share in the shame of it kept her silent.

  She’d
do what they wanted. She’d slink away in shame, and let them get on with their lives the best they could.

  ~~~

  Alexander squinted at the painting on the other side of the tavern bar and tried to make out the image. Was it a lady? Or perhaps a horse? He just couldn’t be sure.

  One thing he did know for certain. He was drunk.

  As a man who always liked to be in command of his senses, he never over-imbibed and looked down on men who did.

  It implied a lack of control, a lack of good sense, and, more often than not, a lack of common courtesy.

  Mayhap he wouldn’t be so quick to judge in future. Mayhap, men drank because they had insufficient ability to comprehend women to the slightest degree. “Drake.” Alexander bumped the man at his side. “Do ye ken the mind of a woman?”

  Drake laughed, and, lacking the scruples that Alexander normally adhered to, was completely drunk and pleased about it. “Alexander, no man understands a woman. If they say they do, they’re lying! Women are mysterious and capricious creatures.”

  Alexander nodded. That was the truth if he’d ever heard it. “How did I get into this mess?”

  Drake looked around the tavern, at the rowdies making speeches for the amusement of others, while food and drink flowed freely. He shrugged. “We walked in here.” He raised a hand to the bartender. “Another round for me and my friend. We’re trying to understand women, so keep them coming, will you?”

  At that, Drake laughed, as did the men on either side of them.

  The man to his left pounded a hand on the bar, his cropped curls bouncing. “The male who tries to understand a female’s mind will soon find himself lost in a mire of complexity. Don’t go down that path; others have tried and failed before you. Better men than yourself, I’m sure.” The man lifted a drink and tossed it back.

  “Here, here!” The portly man on the other side of them said. “That’s the truth of it! No man should trod that path, and certainly never alone. You always want to take along a shot of Scottish whiskey or two!”

  At that, even Alexander laughed, and Drake was almost hysterical with mirth.

  The man on the left was pounding the bar again. “I’ll tell you what my father told me. Avoid them when you can, keep your mouth shut when you can’t, and tup them whenever they let you.”

  More hysterical laughter, and Alexander was right there with them.

  “All women prefer a heroic man.” The man to their right lifted his mug. “It’s what they love to discuss, read about, and search for.”

  Alexander snorted. “I suppose ye mean racing carriages, and shooting pistols, and wearing a cowboy hat.” His resentment was close to the surface and evident in his tone.

  “No, no.” The man shook his head. “Not many of us could do that, could we? They mostly need a man who’s there, holds her when she cries, talks her out of a temper, and puts her to bed when she’s in her cups. The way to a woman’s heart starts with understanding her.”

  Alexander tried to picture Lizzie in her cups. Now that would be a sight to see, wouldn’t it? He remembered the bottle of whiskey she’d secreted in her room. Perhaps she’d allow him a few liberties if she were a few sheets to the wind.

  He smiled at the thought, lost in vivid images featuring Lizzie, in his arms, in a bed, clinging.

  Drake jostled his arm when he handed him a fresh drink and Alexander sighed at the jarring return to reality. As for talking her out of her temper, how was he to do that? He seemed to be the one who most often put her there.

  Why did she object to him so much?

  Was it the cowboy? Had her heart been given while he was away fighting?

  Resentment over the fact that another man would swoop in when he was doing his duty for king and country swelled within him. Of course, the man was an American, so he lacked all finer feeling toward Britain. The blackguard.

  Most of the women tonight had fawned over Alexander and called him a hero for serving his country.

  But not Lizzie; she’d rejected him out of hand.

  He wished he didn’t care. He wished it didn’t hurt. He wished he knew how to be the hero she wanted.

  She’d held her head high when she’d left this evening, but how was she truly feeling?

  Surely, she couldn’t simply shrug off something like that? The gossip, the coldness, the shunning.

  If they were still engaged, the talk would simply dissipate.

  She’d complained that she hadn’t had a choice. That neither one of them had. Perhaps this was their chance to choose?

  Mayhap if he showed up and proposed, he would save the day, and she would see him as heroic?

  He stood up, pushed away from the counter, and clapped Drake on the back.

  “I’m going to see Lizzie.”

  Drake lifted his head to reveal bleary eyes. “Perhaps you should wait until tomorrow?”

  “No. I’m going to see Lizzie, and I’m going to propose marriage to her.” He said the words overloud, and received several cheers for his efforts.

  With a wave around the room at the men spurring him on, he turned and walked toward the entrance.

  How did one become heroic?

  He needed to figure it out, and fast.

  Somehow, he’d be Lizzie’s hero tonight.

  ~~~

  Something woke Lizzie.

  It took her a moment to remember everything that had happened. Snuggled in her blankets, in the utter darkness, she felt safe, secluded, and sad.

  She wished she hadn’t woken. She needed a good night’s sleep in order to be able to deal with her greatly altered situation in life.

  She pulled the blankets up around her neck, and pressed her face against her pillow, willing herself to recapture forgotten dreams.

  A sound, almost like thunder, battered against her window and she sat up straight, her heart suddenly pounding.

  What in the world?

  After a long moment of listening, it happened again.

  She jumped out of bed, flinching as warm feet hit the frozen wood floor, and headed over to the window in the dark.

  She pushed back her lace curtain and looked down to see a large man, with a lantern in his hand, standing below her window.

  Alexander?

  Her mother and father entered her bedroom with a candle. “Lizzie? What’s going on?” Mother sounded startled.

  Lizzie unlatched the window and opened it. “Alexander? Is that you?”

  “Lizzie!” He’d never said her name in quite that tone before, and if she wasn’t mistaken, he seemed exuberantly happy. At least one of them was.

  “Yes?”

  Her heart started to thunder in her chest. What was he doing here? What did he want? Had he read her letter?

  “Lizzie. Ye are a woman. I mean … a lady.”

  Her eyes narrowed. Was he drunk? “Why, yes. Yes I am.”

  “That means ye are … are … mysterious and … and … capricious.”

  Amusement tugged at her mouth. “Alexander, have you been writing more poetry by any chance?”

  He laughed at that, then pointed up at her. “Nae, nae I have not. I’m here to be a hero. A heroic one.”

  “A hero?”

  “Like in Homer’s Odyssey or in … or in … The Lady of the Lake! But not,” his brows lowered. “Not like a cowboy!”

  “I see.” Amusement bubbled to the surface. She didn’t wish to jump to any conclusions so she just asked him. “And how do you intend to do that?”

  He gaped up at her for a moment, and then he set the lantern down, and bent down on both knees. Oh. Dear.

  “I’ve never said it. Never had to say.”

  “Never said what?” Though she was afraid she knew.

  “Rather, I’ve never asked you.”

  She drew in a breath as her heart started to pound. “Asked me what?”

  He lifted his arms in the air, and asked, “Lizzie, will you marry me?”

  She was afraid of that. She was afraid that was what he’d
meant. She sucked in a breath. “So, let me clarify. You’re here to play the hero by asking me to marry you?”

  “That’s right!”

  “You’re going to save me? Restore my besmirched reputation?”

  “Aye, that’s the way of it exactly!”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Nae?”

  Feeling volatile, but trying not to give into it, she answered in a tight voice. “No, you idiot. I will not marry you.”

  “But … why not? You’ve been ruined. I’m here to fix you … it.”

  Her temper flared anew. “An yet … I feel fine without repairs.”

  “But Lizzie, I cannae live without you!”

  “Good! That can definitely be arranged!” With that, she shut the window with a sharp snap.

  “Lizzie!” Mother said behind her.

  Her father, a silent presence, didn’t say a word.

  After a brief pause, her mother stepped forward. “Why did you refuse him?”

  Arms tight around her body, she went to the fireplace, retrieved the poker, and dug around in the ashes before laying another log. She stood. “If I thought he truly wanted me, I’d say yes. But if he’s only proposing to do the right thing, then I’m simply not interested.”

  Her father sighed in the darkness. “I’m a married man, and I’ve three daughters, and I don’t believe I’ll ever understand the fairer sex.”

  Lizzie crossed her arms. “I don’t wish to marry because I must, and I certainly don’t wish to marry because Alexander wishes to save me.”

  She put a hand to her forehead. “I’m sorry. I know this would solve all of our problems, but I just can’t do it.”

  Mother came forward and gave her a hug. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

  Her parents left, her father muttering as he closed the door, shutting out the candlelight.

  She looked out her window once more, but Alexander was gone.

  Pain flared up in her chest. So much for wanting to play the hero for her. Well, good riddance!

  Feeling lost and alone, she climbed back into bed, wishing she truly meant it.

  ~~~

  Even to save her reputation, she wouldn’t marry him?

  Seeped in confusion, Alexander arrived home about thirty minutes later and went upstairs to find Gibbs waiting for him.