by Julia London
And then he silently cursed female tears to the blazing pits of hell.
So it was Nattie’s unintentional doing that kept him from having his way with Ellie and retrieving the beastie.
Disturbed by it, Liam had returned to King’s Lynn in the handy curricle and napped a few hours before returning to Peasedown Park, determined more than ever to have his beastie and be gone by the morrow. When the sun had finally crept in behind some ominous clouds, he was standing at the east entrance to the mansion feigning a look of confusion, claiming not to know which of the grand entrances was the grandest after all. It wouldn’t hurt, he reckoned, to know more than one exit route, for there would be no more distractions. With renewed vigor, he would exact his revenge. Today.
The parlor maid had brightened like a morning flower when she found him, smiling broadly and leading him about the various rooms of the ground floor before finally depositing him in the small drawing room overlooking the back terrace. And had he not been so consumed with thoughts of the only woman he had ever loved, he might have taken the lass up on her offer to “help him in any way.”
Unfortunately, Ellie, miserable creature that she was, was constantly in his thoughts. What a cruel thing for her to be the one woman in all of God’s creation he should fall in love with. He despised her for it, deplored her betrayal, but he still, inexplicably, loved her, and seeing her yesterday had almost been his undoing. Never had he felt such mixed emotions—on the one hand, wanting to squeeze the life from her, and on the other, wanting to draw her into his arms and kiss the breath from her. There were moments he felt almost swept away by his grief. But then he’d recover with a feverish shiver and want to strangle her all over again.
It was a vicious little thing going on inside him, and it was, therefore, bittersweet news when Peasedown suggested that as the weather was “frightfully awful,” they should postpone their shoot and indulge his wife and Miss Farnsworth by playing parlor games. “After luncheon, of course. Which naturally you’ll take with me. Judith does not care for luncheon. But then we’ll while away the afternoon by amusing the ladies. Until supper, of course, which naturally you will take with all of us.”
Parlor games. Sounded perfectly tedious. Mared was terribly fond of them, but he and Grif preferred cards to the silly games women concocted. Nevertheless, this would afford him the opportunity to get his beastie and quit King’s Lynn altogether. Before he did something remarkably stupid. Like kiss her and suffer another thousand consequences for it, bloody stupid fool that he was.
“Thank ye,” Liam said. “I’m rather fond of shooting, I am, but in truth, I’m fonder of the company of ladies.”
“Ah,” Peasedown said, chuckling. “As to that—” He paused, looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was listening in a room that was completely vacant, save the two of them, and said, “My lady wife is very much on your side in this matter.” He inched closer to Liam. “I must warn you that she fancies herself a bit of a matchmaker, and can be rather zealous about it at times. Do you take my meaning?”
“Aye, I do,” Liam said, trying hard not to smile. “And I’m no’ above admitting I could use all help proffered,” he added with a wink.
“Splendid!” Peasedown all but shouted, puffing up like a peacock. “Well, then! Shall we lunch, sir? A man can hardly match wits with a woman on an empty stomach, can he?”
Truer words, Liam thought, were never spoken.
While the two gentlemen finished up their luncheon and hied themselves to the green salon for parlor games, Ellen was suffering Judith’s attentions, the intent of which was painfully obvious. One could not have known Judith for more than twenty-five years and not see the old girl was gleefully matchmaking, even with Judith vehemently denying it. “I couldn’t possibly find time to concern myself with your lovers, Ellen…or lack of them.”
It had started with a review of her wardrobe, Judith insisting that Ellen’s “tiresome” and “dowdy” day gown was really not even suitable for the cold weather. Actually, her gown happened to have been one of last Season’s most favored styles, and according to Eva (who had given it to her), it had received quite a lot of fine compliments the two times she had worn it. The fashionable gown, like most of Eva’s castoffs, did not show Ellen’s bosom to its greatest advantage. At least not like the overtight gown Judith made her don—the insufferably tight, ridiculously low-cut gown out of which she was practically falling. But Judith would not have it any other way—they argued a good quarter of an hour until Ellen finally gave in and threw up her hands. What did it matter? If she could survive one more day, she’d be gone.
They marched down to the green salon, Judith prattling on about how charming and delightfully rustic Liam was. Ellen said nothing, but pressed her lips firmly together to keep from groaning to Judith that her charming and delightfully rustic Scot would just as soon see her flayed open than alive, and if given the opportunity, would do the honors himself. But really, she did intend to be gone before that happy occurrence. If only she could have a moment of peace to think.
Naturally, therefore, it was to Ellen’s great shock and even greater chagrin to find Liam comfortably ensconced in an overstuffed armchair in the middle of the green salon. Again. With little Sarah and Charles and Natalie seated at his feet, making a pretty picture of country bliss. Ellen could not have been more perturbed if Liam had managed to steal the beastie from her.
She should have known from Judith’s great grin as a footman opened the door to the salon, or suspected from Judith’s early-morning call to her dressing room, that something unexpected might happen. And of course she should have suspected that there would be no shooting today, with rain coming down in buckets. But she had been too tired, too wrapped up in her own problems to think about that. Her inability to anticipate was, she thought irritably as she crossed the threshold, going to be her most spectacular downfall.
Liam grinned jovially as she entered the room.
“Mother!” Natalie cried, seeing her and rushing to Ellen’s side. “I told you he had come to rescue us!”
“Oh my darling!” Judith laughed as she fondly ran a hand over Natalie’s head. “How precious and silly you are!”
“Ah, what a lovely sight to behold on such a dreary morning,” Liam said pleasantly as he came to his feet.
“Captain Lockhart,” Ellen responded stiffly, and received a not-very-well-disguised elbow in the ribs from Judith.
“My dear Captain Lockhart, you are to be commended! For in spite of having all your plans dashed, you’ve agreed to spend the entire day with us! I assure you our day will be made infinitely brighter with your presence!” Judith sang as she took Ellen’s elbow firmly in hand and marched her forward.
“Ah, but ’tis I who am pleased beyond comprehension,” Liam spouted like a bloody dandy as Judith made Ellen extend her hand with another sharp jab to the side.
“Then I suspect your level of comprehension must be rather shallow, sir,” Ellen said as she watched him bow over her hand, then lift his head with a smile and a sparkle in his eye that was just a little too gleeful to suit her, “for we are, as a whole, rather tedious and tiresome company.”
“On the contrary, Miss Farnsworth, my comprehension is keener than ye understand. I could no’ be more pleased if I were asked to dine with the king himself.”
Ellen all but snorted and yanked her hand from his grasp. “What a pity that couldn’t have been arranged.”
“Dreadfully awful out,” Richard was saying by way of explanation. “Couldn’t shoot a thing even if we wanted, and I daresay we’d be swimming.”
“Hmmm,” said Ellen.
“Of course, you couldn’t possibly go out in such horrid conditions!” Judith assured her husband. “I say a round of games is in order. Children! Come along, if you please! It’s time you all adjourned to the nursery,” Judith said as she sailed toward the bellpull.
The children dutifully came to their feet, but Natalie rushed to Ellen’s side. “Mot
her, please let me stay!” she pleaded in a whisper, pulling on Ellen’s skirts.
“I’m sorry, darling, but children belong in the—”
“But what if Captain Lockhart leaves without us?” she whispered desperately.
Inadvertently, Ellen looked up; Liam’s eyes reflected her sadness for Natalie, and she felt as if a weight had been attached to her heart, pulling it down, sinking it into the mire that was suddenly her life. “He will certainly leave without us, Natalie. But I won’t, I will never leave you. Now go on with you, off to the nursery.”
“There’s no need to send them off, Lady Peasedown,” Liam tried. “I very much enjoy the company of children, I do.”
“How generous!” Judith said happily, and shot Ellen what could only be termed a smirk. “But I rather think their governess has lots for them to accomplish today. We pay her handsomely enough for it, certainly. All right, then,” she said, ushering Sarah and Charles toward the door, “Miss Peckinpaugh is waiting.”
Natalie sighed and let go her grip of Ellen’s skirt, looking terribly dejected. As the two Peasedown children left the room, she exchanged a glance with Liam, and Ellen saw something pass over his careful expression. He cared about Natalie. He truly cared about her strange little daughter.
Ellen’s heart sank deeper into the mire as she kissed the top of Natalie’s head and sent her to the nursery. How would she ever explain to her daughter that she couldn’t have both Liam and her freedom? She watched Natalie walk out the door, lagging behind the other children. As the footman closed the door, Ellen turned listlessly, caught Liam looking at her, his expression a peculiar mix of anger and sympathy. This was too much—the sadness inside her was beginning to beat like a drum, and Ellen fell onto the nearest chair, staring morosely at one of the large, paned glass windows and the rivulets of water cascading down, forcing herself to think of her most immediate problem—what exactly was she to do now? With Liam underfoot, she’d never be able to slip away!
“It’s rather cold in here, Richard,” Judith was saying. “We should really bring someone round to stoke the fire a bit. I have a splendid idea,” she continued cheerfully as Richard moved to stoke the fire, “Why don’t we play a game? I haven’t played charades in ever so long—”
“I despise charades, Judith, you know that,” Richard said gruffly.
“I’ve a game, if ye donna mind the suggestion,” Liam said. “One we particularly enjoy in Scotland. It’s called Truth or Consequences. Do ye know it?”
That caught Ellen’s attention.
“No!” Judith exclaimed, obviously delighted. Yes, well, neither did Ellen, but she did not like the name of the game at all. Nor did she particularly care for the diabolical little glint in Liam’s eye.
“Simple, really. One player challenges another with the truth or a consequence. For example, I might challenge Miss Farnsworth. Truth or consequence, Miss Farnsworth?”
Oh, no, she really did not like the sound of this game. Ellen waved her hand flippantly at him and looked away. “It sounds to me a perfectly silly game, Captain Lockhart,” she said coolly.
“Oh, come on, then, Ellen! It’s all in fun! And what more do you have to do on such an appalling day?” Judith cried. “Truth or consequence?”
Dear God, why had she come to Peasedown at all? “Judith, I really prefer not—”
“Perhaps it would be best if I demonstrated with yer husband, Lady Peasedown,” Liam said, shoving his hands in the pocket of his buckskins and walking casually to the hearth.
“Yes, yes, I’m rather keen to try,” Richard said, putting the fire poker down and turning toward Liam. “How is it played?”
“If ye choose truth, I may ask ye whatever I like. If ye donna answer, or we catch ye in a lie, the person asking the question may choose yer consequence. If ye prefer not to risk the ugly truth,” he said, smiling at Judith and Richard as if nothing could be more preposterous, “then I might name yer consequence.”
“What jolly good fun!” Richard said, and eagerly assumed a seat, his hands braced against his knees. “All right, then, I’ll choose ‘truth.’ Certainly I’ve nothing to hide!” he said, laughing.
“May I go first?” Judith quickly interjected. “I’ve a question for my lord husband.” Liam nodded; Judith eagerly sat up, her back ramrod straight. “Dearest, do you recall the afternoon you were late returning from your club?” she asked sweetly.
Richard immediately colored. “What afternoon?” he asked, laughing nervously and looking at Liam. “I go every afternoon, Judith, so I can’t possibly guess which—”
“The afternoon of fourteen September.”
The color drained from his face. “But…but that was so long ago, my love—”
“You arrived well past the dinner hour and you said that you had stopped off to have a word with Doctor Stafford. Do you recall now, dearest?” she asked sweetly.
Now white as a sheet, Richard looked desperately from Liam to Ellen, then to Judith again. “Why, this isn’t very enjoyable at all! I prefer a consequence, actually,” he said stiffly.
Judith smiled. “What a pity, that—for you, dear heart. For the inability to remember clearly your whereabouts on the afternoon of fourteen September, 1816, I decree that your consequence shall be the purchase of the divan I saw in York, which you refused me on the grounds I had overspent my allowance. And I think the consequence should be paid with presentation of a banknote at once to your wife, Richard.” She smiled triumphantly.
Richard gaped at her. But a moment later, his shoulders sagged, and like a defeated man, he rose and stalked to the desk at the far end of the room, from which he withdrew a sheaf of papers and a pen, and hurriedly wrote something. Then he stalked to the sideboard, where he poured himself a generous serving of whiskey. “Go on with it, then!” he said irritably.
Judith beamed at Liam. “I think I should like this game!” she proclaimed. “You go next, Captain Lockhart. Who will you ask?”
“Why, Miss Farnsworth, naturally.” He was leaning against the mantel, one leg crossed over the other, his arms folded at his chest and his smile terribly mischievous.
“I should like not to play,” Ellen said instantly.
“Oh, don’t be such a killjoy, Ellen!” Judith scolded her. “Say ‘truth.’ What would Captain Lockhart ask you that could possibly harm you in any way?”
Blast it all! Judging by Liam’s deepening smile, she was in for a time of it. Ellen fussed about her skirt, tried to prepare herself. She would not accept his consequence, not being quite ready to die. But then again, she shuddered to think what he might ask her: “Miss Farnsworth, did you break into the Lockhart mansion in Mayfair and steal a beastie that rightfully belonged to me? And did you run away from your father? And did you not betray me? Miss Farnsworth, are you in fact a liar and a thief?”
“All right, then, if you want me to play so terribly much, I’ll play. I’ll choose ‘truth,’ Captain Lockhart.”
“Ah,” he said, nodding thoughtfully, and straightened, clasped his hands behind his back and strolled to stand in front of her. “Very well, then, ‘truth.’ ” He paused; his eyes narrowed on her, as if he were considering his many choices. “Miss Farnsworth…have ye ever been in love?”
The question shocked her. “Wh-what? I beg your pardon?” she sputtered, flabbergasted.
“I asked, have ye ever been in love? A simple question really, Miss Farnsworth—an aye or a nay would suffice, then.”
Judith and Richard had turned their full attention to her, delightedly watching her like some performing circus animal. Ellen looked at the three people staring at her and thought she had finally gone round the bend, had no idea which way was up or down any longer. Was she truly sitting in this room, with these people, playing some childish game with the man she had stolen from? And jilted? Had he honestly just asked her if she had loved him? The nerve! All right, he was aggrieved and all that, yes, of course. But this! This was plainly the most vulgar of manners! “Yes!” sh
e said emphatically, to which Judith clapped her delight and Richard laughed.
Liam, however, did not laugh. He just looked at her with no expression at all, which left her even more bewildered.
“’Tis yer turn, Miss Farnsworth,” he said quietly.
“Marvelous! I choose you, Captain Lockhart. Truth or consequence?”
“Truth,” he said without the slightest hesitation.
“Have you ever been in love?”
Liam chuckled low and shook his head. “Never.”
Strangely, Ellen’s heart plummeted; she felt very suddenly a fool, a reckless, silly fool.
“Until very recently,” Liam added calmly, to which Judith did what was becoming an altogether too frequent little swoon, and Richard laughed nervously, as if he had sensed the game had moved beyond the absurd, and helped himself to more whiskey. But Liam made no expression at all—he simply kept a steady gaze on her until Ellen had to turn away.
The play went from her to Richard, who desperately wanted Judith to choose truth, and groused when she refused. “Very well, then, you leave me no choice. Your consequence is to hie yourself upstairs and bring me the pearl bracelet.”
Judith gasped with outrage. “I’ll do no such thing!”
“Madam, you agreed to the terms of this game, and as you refuse to give me the truth, I will have that damn bracelet as my consequence!”
Positively and obviously furious, Judith suddenly sprang to her feet and started marching for the door. “You’ll have your bloody bracelet, all right!” she snapped.
