Well, hmm. If not Sebastian, then whose wife had died, and who had children hidden away in a tower or buried in the back garden, or whatever it was she had overheard? If it wouldn’t sound so humiliatingly silly, she would share the whole story with him, for surely he would find it humorous, thinking him a dark villain in a tale of spousal homicide when he had no spouse to murder. Not wishing him to think she had gone mad, she decided against telling him the truth.
“Oh, no particular reason. One does wonder how someone like you could remain unmarried.” Dash it! Her desire to divert the truth had just inserted her foot in her mouth.
“Someone like me?”
“Well, you know, handsome, intelligent, titled—”
“Good heavens, Lizbeth. You had better stop before you inflate my ego enough to carry both of us up and away. Keep talking like this, and I will be forced to whisk you down a dark path, and that wouldn’t do any favors for our friendship or your reputation.” He grinned devilishly, his brows angled with mischief. “I suggest we turn this tide, my lovely. Tell me if you’ve read Gulliver’s Travels.”
He held out his arm for her to take as they walked.
Resting a hand on his forearm, she said, “I’m acquainted with Swift, yes.”
She hoped the embarrassment of the previous moment subsided quickly with the new diversion. How mortifying to have asked such a faux pas question, and then to fumble with those bold compliments. If she could disappear into one of those dark paths, she would.
“Splendid!” he said, all smiles. “I knew you’d have read Swift. Now, I want to pick that brain of yours. What do you make of Swift’s criticism of science?”
Science seemed a far cry from a murder mystery. She could already breathe easier. Deuced women and their gossip, she cursed to herself.
Lizbeth tried to ignore a jester attempting to court her with a few handheld flowers, but Sebastian stepped forward to snatch the proffered arrangement, giving both the jester and Lizbeth a courtly bow as he handed her the small bouquet. With a curtsy to them both, she accepted the flowers and inhaled the musty fragrance of earth.
With the flowers in one hand and his arm under the other, she continued to walk, a fluster of emotion. What in heavens had he asked her?
“Oh, heavens. Let me think.” Science. Something about science. Oh, yes! “Well, hmm. As I recall, Swift is quite critical of all things new. I believe he was worried that new discoveries and tools would destroy our belief system, especially how we view the world around us.”
“Mmm. He does distort the descriptions of human bodies when Gulliver visits Brobdingnag, doesn’t he?”
“Indeed. I believe that was his way of showing the absurdity and impracticality of such new tools as the microscope. Instead of relying on our imagination, our faith, and our admiration of the beauty around us, we are interpreting what we see through a magnified lens, distorting reality, reducing nature to the details of a flea’s body.”
Sebastian grinned, his good spirits fully restored. Perhaps he enjoyed having a woman of intelligence on his arm, she mused. Or maybe that was her vanity talking and she read into his behavior what she wanted him to think of her.
“How did you enjoy the part where Gulliver visits the Academy at Lagado?”
Liz’s response rang with laughter. “I laughed for days over that! They were extracting sunbeams from the cucumbers with their newfangled equipment! Such a delightful even if harsh satire.”
“Did you catch when Gulliver pokes fun at Richardson’s Pamela?”
“Wait, no? I don’t remember that at all. You’ve made that up just to rib me!”
“Honestly, I haven’t. Re-read it when you have a chance to see if you catch it. He mocks both Pamela and Robinson Crusoe. Given our previous conversation and especially your harshness of poor Pamela, I thought you would rather enjoy his mocking the ideal woman and ideal man by societal standards.” He winked at her as they continued the walk.
The crowd around them began to thin as people made their way back to the supper boxes.
“That does sound delightful. I will hunt for it with conviction.” She fleetingly questioned what Annick and Charlotte were up to, likely down one of the dark paths.
“I hope you’ll take this as an endearment when I say you are the most enlightened woman I’ve ever met.” He paused their walk and turned to face her, looking at her in reverence. “You’re exactly the woman I had assumed could never exist, a woman for whom I could fall.” Their eyes met, his filled with yearning.
Lizbeth found herself nearly alone in the avenue with this potent man who was exhaling an elixir of heady passion.
“What was it you were saying earlier about my being handsome and intelligent?” he asked, his voice lowered.
“You’re fishing for a compliment, my lord,” she rebuked.
“Maybe I am. But if you don’t think of a good one fast enough, I’ll be forced to recite Burns to counter what I’m tempted to say.”
Liz nearly collapsed against him with laughter. “Anything but Burns! You’re incorrigible, Sebastian.”
“Not quite the compliment I was hoping for, but I’ll take it all the same. Incorrigible. Do you think if I added that to my calling card, I would receive more invitations?” The corners of his eyes crinkled.
She caught a glimpse of two figures walking towards them. Before she lost her chance, she asked one final question, hoping she wouldn’t ruin the mood.
“Do you have any children, Sebastian?” she blurted, her words tumbling together.
Not quite the reaction she expected, he bellowed in laughter.
“Does a small army of illegitimates count?” he said between peals of laughter.
She swatted at his arm. “That is inappropriate, and you know it! Oh, heavens, do you really have a small army?”
He wiped tears from the crinkled corners of his eyes. “No, I don’t have any children, illegitimate or otherwise. Where the devil, pardon my language again, did that question come from? Oh, wait, I see, this is some sort of proposition, is it not, an offer to bear my children?”
Liz huffed indignantly to stifle her own laughter. “It most certainly was not. You are incorrigible and ungenteel, and I am horrified you would say such a thing. You are the basest man, I have—”
A blushing Charlotte and smug Annick approached then, interrupting Liz’s scolding. Sebastian laughed all the way back to the supper box, winking at her flirtatiously every time she glanced his direction.
When they settled into the Prince’s Pavilion, Liz admired the painting on the wall behind their seats, a Shakespearean scene from the look of it. They had a spectacular view of the orchestra building and the dancing couples in The Grove.
Although Liz didn’t want to be the center of attention sitting in Prince George’s supper box, she couldn’t deny that it was undoubtedly the best box in the gardens. The delight of dinner thrilled them all; cold meats cut transparently thin, custards, cheesecakes, tarts, and other sinful foods littered the table.
After the sun set, thousands of oil lamps ignited in an instant by lamp-lighters at the ready. Gasps from every table filled the air at the sight of such magic and beauty. Just as the gasps were dying down, the sweet notes of a soprano resounded through the night air. The harpsichord and violins joined in accompaniment soon after. Annick said that if he wasn’t mistaken, it was one of the arias from Handel’s Teseo, although he wasn’t familiar enough with the opera to identify which aria or even which character. Liz was a tad surprised the duke knew anything at all about music.
Midway through the meal, the musical entertainment changed pace for dancing. Their group stayed seated to converse.
“If it weren’t already official, it is now,” declared Annick. “I’ve written to Mother about the engagement.” He puffed out his chest proudly.
“Oh, Drake, what did you tell her about me
?” Charlotte touched his arm.
“Absolutely nothing, of course! You’re to be a complete surprise for her. I said,” he cleared his throat for effect, “‘I have the pleasure to announce that by the time this reaches you, you will be mother-in-law to a most amiable new daughter.’”
“That doesn’t tell her anything about me!” Charlotte sniveled, her lower lip pouting.
“I told you, silly goose. You’re to be my gift to her from London. She’ll love you, I swear.” He turned an accusing eye to Lizbeth and Sebastian. “And what were the two of you up to in the gardens?”
Liz sat up straighter, refusing to be the center of scandalous talk. “We talked about Gulliver’s Travels, actually. A thoroughly scholarly discussion, I will have you know.”
Annick turned to Charlotte and said sotto voce, “How did you ever turn out this lovely with such a bluestocking for a sister.” They both snickered.
Joking or not, Liz felt the sting. His words were true and could have been complimentary, for she did consider herself an intelligent and educated woman, but his meaning was derisive. She was neither involved in the bluestocking society nor frumpy, which she believed was exactly his implication. She had half a mind to point out that he didn’t seem bothered by her reading habits when he approached her at the masquerade, but that would be tasteless indeed, especially in front of her sister.
Sebastian leaned to Liz and said in retort, “Goes to show your resilience for tolerating a disreputable dandy as a brother-in-law.”
The duke slapped his knee with laughter. “Touché, cousin! Touché!”
As the meal wound to a close, Annick suggested, “Let’s stay until sunrise. The gardens remain open until the last guests leave, so let’s be the last guests.”
As though he could read her mind, Sebastian said, “Aside from your betrothed, I don’t believe anyone in this party is remotely interested in traversing the dark paths with you all night. I suggest, instead, we all visit the British Museum in a few days. See the discoveries of worldly voyages, entrench ourselves in other cultures with Greek antiquities, explore the South Seas vicariously through Captain Cook’s collection.” He wriggled his eyebrows at Lizbeth.
“That sounds wonderful!” Liz nodded eagerly.
Annick groaned. “The most boring suggestion you’ve ever made, old man. How do you ever expect to woo a woman when recommending we look at coins and vases as a source of entertainment?” He lolled his head back and feigned a snore. “I’m game if that’s what you want to do, but I question how we could be related.”
The evening passed faster than Lizbeth wanted, concluding with an explosive colored light show of London’s finest pyrotechnics. As all eyes looked upwards into the sky, Sebastian slipped his hand into hers.
In spite of the rocky start to her evening, the whole affair turned out to be one of the best nights of her life. He had shared with her the personal anecdote about his mother, and they had spent a good portion of the evening talking about various and sundry ideas and viewpoints. And there had been the none-too-subtle flirting for her to hold lovingly to her breast.
Almost the perfect man may need to be amended to the most perfect man if he kept this pace. Her initial fears of his not opening up to her dissolved with each passing moment in his company.
When they returned to their respective homes, all in the Collingwood residence were abed. Lizbeth settled into her own bed after Bettye helped her out of her gown and into her nightdress. She snuggled into the covers with Goethe’s The Sorrows of Young Werther, a relatively new publication her father had surprised her with earlier in the year. Next time she saw Sebastian, she must ask him if he knew of Goethe.
“I’m glad you’re not asleep yet.” A voice whispered from the door, startling Lizbeth into nearly dropping her book.
When she saw Charlotte peeking in, a candle in her hand, she heaved a sigh of relief and relaxed. No ghosts of murdered wives haunted her door this evening.
“You know me better than that, Charlotte. Come in. Are you unwell?”
“Oh, nothing so grim.” She shuffled over to the bed, setting the candle holder on the nightstand and climbing on the bed with her sister. “I simply wanted to offer my sincerest apologies that you must spend so much time with that boor, all for my benefit. I do appreciate your sacrifice. It means so much to me that you tolerate him so that I may have time alone with Drake,” Charlotte squeezed Liz’s hand.
“Thank you, but in the boor’s defense, he’s not the least bit boorish.”
“You’re too kind for your own good, Lizbeth. He is a boor. And I’d like to add a bore to his list of traits, now, as well. The British Museum? Egad! Who wants to walk around and look at some dead man’s rubbish?”
“I thought it a lovely suggestion. Maybe you don’t want to see antiquities, but I do. I don’t find him the least boring. Like me, he doesn’t favor crowds and would rather be somewhere quieter. This may shock you, but Lord Roddam and I share a good deal in common, and I’m beginning to consider him a friend.”
Charlotte snickered unbecomingly. “You really are too kind, you know. I don’t like anything about him. Drake on the other hand…”
Liz only heard half of Charlotte’s crooning, as she lost herself to the memory of the depths of Sebastian’s eyes. She was drawn as a moth to those depths. Mmm, she recalled tastily the moment he said he could fall for her. He hadn’t been facetious, she didn’t think. He spoke with genuine ardor.
But what had he meant by it? A light infatuation, friendship with affection, love? And more to the point, what would he do about it? His words brought such elation with a world of apprehension. Their time together fleeted, each passing day drawing them closer to returning to their homes on the opposite sides of the country. Assuming he did fall for her, she wondered if he would act on it, and if so, how she would respond.
Chapter 11
Between his mornings at the House of Lords and his evenings with his cousin, Sebastian devoted much of his afternoons at a local coffeehouse. With everyone he knew visiting White’s or Brook’s, or the less popular Boodle’s, he avoided the clubs to enjoy his coffee black and in silence.
Being surrounded by the merchant class felt more natural to him than listening to Tories and Whigs whine about one revolution or another, not to mention he preferred the anonymity the coffeehouse offered. Even in his oldest and most worn attire, he still stood out, but no one paid him heed, just as he liked.
He had ample opportunity in such a setting to overhear industry strife, worker worries, and the flow of money. Talking with cits wasn’t beneath him given his interests for new industry in the north, namely coal mining. Above all else, he simply welcomed the quiet of the coffeehouse. As noisy as it could become on a busy afternoon, it still afforded a level of personal quiet, where nothing at all concerned him and no one called his name.
A man could think in a place like this.
With simultaneous business deals on his plate, the correspondences with his stewards to address, the recruitment and hire of several new positions on his lands, including an overdue blacksmith and a long-awaited physician, along with various other concerns, it surprised him to discover Miss Trethow on the fringes of his mind.
Understatement of the year. She wasn’t on the fringes. In fact, he could think of nothing else. His correspondences untouched, his business dealings ignored, he filled his every waking thought with Lizbeth.
Over the past week, his feelings had deepened, aided by the time spent with her family. Never again could he think of her as a potential mistress. He respected her father Cuthbert, grew fond of her cousin Walter, and found her aunt Hazel humorous. Being with Liz and her family showed him the future he wanted. He couldn’t stop imagining them all in his parlor sharing laughs, playing charades and cards, taking walks along the beach.
He saw the family he wanted, the family he never had.
The highlight of the week had been the card games, of all things. On one evening in particular, after a civilized game of piquet, Lizbeth, with a gleam in her eye, recommended penneech. Sebastian couldn’t recall the last time he had played the game, but it would have been at White’s during his dissipated youth, his memory tainted by the haze of endless inebriation at the time.
Up for the challenge, he accepted, and never had he witnessed a more competitive woman than Lizbeth with a new trick every turn. At one point, he thought she might come across the table to swat at him after one of his own tricks, but instead she sharpened her play, examining his every move for signs of weakness and clues to his next play. Her eyes were bright and intelligent, flashing with sly craftiness and a refusal to be bested.
Not that he intentionally meant to distract her, but his foot found its way to her ankle during the game. She would deny it under duress, of course, but he knew she enjoyed his attentions.
His affection for her shifted during that game.
No, no, that wasn’t entirely true. He knew during the game he could never take her as a mistress. But it had been the evening at Vauxhall that etched her into his heart for eternity.
From beginning to end of the evening, he was exhilarated by her conversation, proud to walk at her side, possessive when other men favored her with a glance. As she chattered on, he had imagined her not as an acquaintance, but as his wife, the two of them sharing an enchanted evening together. Never had he laughed so much as during that outing. Never had he felt so complete as when their hands embraced during the firework display.
He had begged for the night never to end or else for the world to end in that moment so he would know nothing but the moment itself, the feeling of elation, the uncomplicated attraction of two people perfect for each other.
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