"I shall leave you, dear heart, to collect yourself,” Millicent said with a tiny smile. “But don't dally long. His Grace seems not a patient man where you are concerned."
After her mother left, Elizabeth spent a moment or two bracing herself for the evening ahead. She hadn't seen him for several days. Returning from London after Mary's tragic death, they'd parted while he closeted himself with her father.
Lord Henry had later brusquely informed her that bans would be read on the morrow. Fully expecting that bit of news, she shoved it into a corner of her mind and attended Mary's small funeral.
Surprisingly, Christian was there.
There had been a million things she'd wanted to say; arguments she wanted to make, but somehow the words wouldn't come. No, they endured the service together and parted ways. The time wasn't appropriate for a long talk of the future.
But time, at last, had run out.
Tugging on sheer, elbow-length gloves, she gave her hair a final pat and went downstairs.
* * * *
Hearing the hushed whispers of servants, Christian made his way to the door of Henry's study. Elizabeth's arrival was imminent.
Unable to help himself, he gazed toward the top of the staircase and held his breath. She made him feel like an untried lad again. Had he ever felt such wanting for a woman? Possessing her had become an obsession he couldn't control. Lord and Lady Grayson had already departed, deciding that it wasn't amiss for an engaged couple to arrive without chaperones. They planned to make an appearance at the Archer affair then leave sometime before midnight, allowing Christian and Elizabeth to enjoy the evening until dawn if they wished.
Their plans fit quite nicely with his own ideas for the evening. He needed, no, had to see her alone, if only for a moment. As a man of nearly five and thirty, he was almost ashamed of the edgy feelings that threatened to overwhelm him. He wanted her with a perpetual ache that wouldn't cease until he had her in his bed. The last few nights he'd awakened bathed in sweat, hard to the point of pain, needing her.
A downstairs maid gasped, “Oh my,” just before she darted away, and Christian looked up from where he leaned against the study door.
His nonchalant demeanor evaporated like so much mist at the vision of Elizabeth walking slowly toward him. He straightened. Stared. Merciful God, she was beautiful!
Stepping forward, he watched the vision wearing palest ivory and congratulated himself on his choice of bride. The hallway lights caught the dark red of her hair, emphasized here and there by the opaque beauty of pearls as white as a baby's teeth. Curls fell from the crown of her head to brush lightly against shoulders as white, as cool as alabaster.
He wanted to plant his lips there, just there in the hollow of her throat and take her skin into his mouth. The beast within him wanted to brand and claim her.
How, he wondered, could Elizabeth manage to look virginally pure and sinfully wicked all at once?
"Hello, Christian,” she murmured, suddenly standing before him looking painfully unsure. “I hope I didn't keep you waiting long."
Reaching for her hand, he held it lightly for his kiss. Unable to resist the small flutter in her wrist, he whispered his hello and turned it to place a lingering kiss in her glove-covered palm.
Finally able to speak, he looked into her eyes and smiled faintly. “You were well worth the wait, sweet, and no, I haven't lingered here long.
"You are breathtaking, Elizabeth. I shall be the luckiest man in London tonight, having you on my arm.” Taking her elbow, he led her into the formal parlor and bade her sit.
"Thank you.” She knitted her brows and looked around. “Where are Papa and Mama?"
Christian sat beside her and took her hand. “They went on ahead, and we must shortly follow as they will be waiting at the front of Archers’ home."
"Yes, Mama told me we would enter the ball together, but I thought—"
"I asked your father for a moment alone. They thought it best to go on in a separate carriage."
"I see.” Feeling uncomfortably shy, she studied him from beneath her lashes. This was the first she'd seen of him since their harried day in the country, however, he'd constantly been in her mind. How could she ever forget the way he touched her? The way he loved her into mindless oblivion? The way he showed her the folly of her preconceived notions about men and women and sex?
While Christian sat quietly observing her, she studied him in return. Never before had she seen such a devastating man. Black evening dress suited his dark looks. The fit of his superfine coat was perfection, hugging his broad shoulders, trim waist, and hips. Tonight he wore his hair down, and it hung thick and straight to his shoulders, making him look a dashing devil.
Mouth suddenly quite dry, she licked her bottom lip then took it between her teeth. A fine trembling shook her. A bout of shyness or terror, she wasn't sure which, tore through her chest until at last he spoke.
"I realize that marriage to me was not what you wished."
"Marriage to anyone. Not you necessarily."
Christian smiled. “Thank you, kind lady, for clearing that up. Anyway, circumstance intervened, and I must tell you that I am not displeased. I only hope that one day you will not resent me so."
"I do not, sir. I only wish things were different."
He arched a black brow. “You still maintain you would prefer being my mistress? Elizabeth, do you realize how ludicrous that notion is?"
Helplessly she blushed, but he took pity on her and reached into his pocket.
A look of deep concentration centered in his eyes as he stared at her. Taking her face in one bronzed hand, he tilted it up. “I have never wanted a woman as I want you, sweeting. Please accept this token of my deep and abiding feelings."
With those words, he took her hand and slid upon it a stunning sapphire ring surrounded by paved diamonds. The silver setting was lovely and quite old.
She gasped. “Oh, Christian! It is beautiful."
"It belonged to my mother."
Elizabeth lifted her eyes and saw the sadness reflected on his face. “Was this her wedding ring?"
A harsh laugh caused his eyes to narrow. “Hardly. I would never curse our own union with such an obscene jewel. Mother's ring, her vow, her love, meant nothing, less than nothing, to my father."
Elizabeth's heart tore for the anguish she heard in his voice. “I am sorry."
His features softened as he tenderly stroked her knuckles. “No. Forgive me for marring the moment. The ring was passed from mother to daughter in Mama's family. Since she had no daughter, I give it to you."
Elizabeth couldn't help it. She looked down at their hands lying together on his thigh. Uncertainty filled her. “Would she have liked me, do you think?"
"My mother? Oh yes, darling. She liked everyone, yet you she would have loved as a daughter. That is why I believe this ring is appropriate. Someday we shall have a daughter of our own, and you may pass it to her."
Emotion threatened to choke her. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I shall wear it proudly."
Christian took her in his arms slowly, gently and put his lips to hers in a kiss of tender possession. Feeling rolled through her in tremendous waves, touching her heart, her loins, her very soul. Shaking with the promise of kisses to come, she drifted against him and let herself fall.
Twelve
"I feel like an insect,” Elizabeth muttered beneath her breath.
"A beautiful insect, nonetheless,” Christian answered, noting with a wicked but satisfied smile the looks cast their way. “How interesting it would be to pin you to a board and tuck you safely on a shelf."
He laughed at her appalled look. “A jest only, my lovely.” His hand lightly encompassed the milling crowd. “Ignore them."
She turned to him, shock widening her eyes. “How on earth do you propose I do that? I am not used to being a spectacle and it makes me uncomfortable."
She took a sip of watery punch while he let his gaze wander the opulent surroundings
. They, indeed, were the center of speculation tonight, but instead of feeling annoyed, he was pleased.
Elizabeth was simply too luscious to remain unnoticed and without him by her side, there was no doubt she would be the object of randy bucks seeking her company. But not tonight, by damn.
Tonight the lady belonged to him, and he felt an overpowering sense of satisfaction curl through him. Everyone here knew the lady was taken.
Watching her fight for composure, he couldn't help smiling. Over the past few weeks of courting her, he'd noticed that her amazing reserve carefully masked an innate shyness. She simply did not care to be the subject of conjecture.
"Did you see where Mama went?” she asked, glancing around the crowded ballroom.
"Trying to escape me already?"
Turning toward him, she frowned. “Of course not."
How adept she was at lying, Christian thought. Since the heady kiss they'd shared in her parents’ home, she'd been unusually quiet. During the carriage ride that followed, She seemed content to stare into the darkness rather than converse with him. He smiled a bit, realizing with a cunning intuitiveness that she avoided a repeat of that kiss. In afterthought, it was probably a good idea considering that, at the time, his instinct had been to lay her upon the settee and make love to her.
He wanted her alone.
Later, he promised himself.
Lowering his head, he whispered in her ear, “Your mother will not save you from me, my dear. Believe me when I say I will ravish you at the earliest opportunity and no one, not even you, shall stop me from taking what I want."
"You are hideous,” she hissed. “You have won. Why do you gloat over your power to shake me?"
"The only power I have, Elizabeth, is what you allow. Deny, if you can, the way we fit together perfectly. Deny how you melt in my arms when I hold you. You cannot escape me now, but it would go better for you if you come to me freely. Fighting for each snippet of attention has become tiring."
She arched a delicate eyebrow and tightened her lips. “You sound like a petulant toddler deprived of an enticing toy."
He narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to retort when Millicent approached.
"Ah, there you are, dears,” she said brightly. “Are you enjoying the affair?"
"Most definitely.” He made a short bow and smiled charmingly. “Elizabeth is a most entertaining female."
"Well, of course she is. Much like her mama.” Millicent chuckled, then smiled at her daughter. “Please, Elizabeth, might I steal you away for a moment? There is someone I should like you to meet. Baroness Huxley attended the same finishing school as I, and I haven't seen her in ages. I want to introduce you.” She turned pleading eyes to Christian. “You don't object?"
"Of course not."
He noted the relieved look on Elizabeth's face. Forcing a cool smile, he took her hand for a kiss. “Soon."
With a flutter of fingers, she drew away her hand and left with her mother.
Christian admired the gentle sway of her hips beneath the extraordinary gown she wore. Everything about her was enticing, from the turn of her chin to the flash of her eyes when she was angry. No, their marriage would not be a dull affair. Once he succeeded in bedding her, she would develop a taste for lovemaking. He would teach her with great pleasure, and with her passionate nature, she would, no doubt, become an apt and eager pupil.
Eventually, she'd need him as much as he needed her. He wanted to be her every breath, her every thought. Enslavement through seduction. Perhaps then, she might come to love him.
"Never tell me that you are gloating,” Stephen said, approaching Christian from behind. Dressed in evening black, but wearing a silver brocade waistcoat, he carried a small glass of champagne and wore a slight smile on his sculpted lips.
"I? You should know I never gloat."
"Ha. Well, I congratulate you on your victory,” Stephen said. “The lady appears stunned at the speed in which you've accomplished your goal. She seemed immune to male charms until you began to pursue her."
Christian studied the shine of his shoes for a moment before lifting his gaze. Odd that Stephen seemed not at all disgruntled. “It was a bet easily won, Stephen, for you were surprisingly lax in your pursuit."
Smiling mysteriously, he turned his gaze to the swirling dancers just beyond the marble floors. “I have not been myself, I suppose. Distracted and too late, it seems, to woo the lady as she deserves. You are victorious, and I must congratulate you."
Something strange was happening with him, Christian surmised. Not since they were lads had he noted such an open gaze. There was a softness about his face as if nothing could goad him to temper.
Christian watched him carefully. “There is something different about you. Never have I seen you appear so at ease, as if something pleasing has occurred in your life."
The observation seemed to startle Stephen but, in the end, he only smiled. “Something life-altering has occurred, brother. Perhaps, in time, I shall share my news with you."
* * * *
From the corner of her eye, Elizabeth watched Christian converse with Lord Darlington, noting their striking resemblance. Somehow they were related, yet it must be some kind of nefarious thing as they were not open about a family relationship.
Both men were undeniably handsome, but she only had eyes for Christian. Bloody hell! Why could she not keep her gaze from devouring his sinfully handsome face? He was the devil to be sure, or perhaps a magical warlock who'd worked a seductive spell upon her.
"So tell me about your young man, Elizabeth.” Baroness Huxley was a rotund woman with a merry face. Dressed in purple satin, she wore a feathered turban over saucy but unrealistically orange curls.
Millicent, perhaps sensing her nervous condition, replied instead. “His Grace is a delightfully charming young man, Hortense. We could not be more pleased about the match."
Hortense turned faded green eyes upon Elizabeth. “Everyone in the Ton calls it the match of the Season. Shall you have a long engagement?"
"Yes,” she answered.
"No,” her mother replied, almost simultaneously.
Baroness Huxley grinned with delight. “Hmm. A difference of opinion. How delightful.” She looked at Elizabeth for clarification. “So, my dear, what shall it be? Sooner or later?"
Millicent glared at her daughter and poked her small nose in the air. “His Grace insists they marry at once. He is smitten, you see, and at almost five and thirty is anxious to start his nursery."
"Mother!” Elizabeth gasped as heat claimed her normally pale complexion.
Further conversation halted with the arrival of a young lord, who bowed extravagantly over Hortense's ringed fingers. With a sly smile, he said, “Aunt Hortense! How delightful."
"Oh, my dear boy,” she enthused. “You must be enjoying town this season, for we've seen little of you in the country. How is my brother?"
"Dashing as ever, Aunt."
When the man stood, Elizabeth felt the fine hairs on her neck stand at attention. He was a handsome man, but somehow unnerving, as his gaze drifted slowly over her body. No, this was no gentleman to leer in such a manner. She stiffened.
"Oh, my manners! Do forgive me,” Hortense implored. “May I present my nephew, William Duckett, Lord Bailsworthy."
Introductions were made as the vile man continued his appraisal of Elizabeth. Bailsworthy was tall, but not abnormally so, and lean in build. Though his face was handsome, there was a wild look about him. His chestnut hair framed a slightly long face, and his eyes were small and slanted like the eyes of a fox. There was a hungry, aggressive look about the man.
So this is my prey and Kathleen's attacker.
"On the hunt tonight, are you?” Hortense asked the man. As an aside, she murmured to the others in a hushed voice, “Needs a bride to care for his children now that his wife is dead, God rest her soul."
Millicent gave Bailsworthy a solemn look. “I am sorry for your loss."
"Maureen
was a good wife,” he said. “Died in childbed after our second daughter was born. Now the poor tykes must depend on governesses and nursemaids for their care."
Elizabeth said nothing as the older women skillfully changed the subject and after a few moments of light conversation, Bailsworthy left to join his friends.
Perhaps he is in pursuit of another woman to ruin, she thought sarcastically. The sad mention of his wife hadn't fooled her. The philanderer had probably caused the poor woman untold grief. There was something cold and wicked in his eyes that spoke of a man who took what he wanted with no apology.
He was a rapist and despoiler of women. It was time he paid his dues.
Needing a breath of fresh air after meeting Bailsworthy, she politely excused herself and wandered through the open doors leading to a sculptured garden lit with burning torches.
Dragging cool air into her lungs, she slowly removed the stifling gloves she wore and took them both in one hand. For a moment, she stood there absorbing the night and the quiet of the garden.
Apparently, some thought it too cold for a stroll, for it seemed she was quite alone. Sighing, she descended the marble steps onto the lightly dewed grass. Moisture seeped through her ivory satin slippers, but she didn't care. Even five minutes with Lord Bailsworthy was enough to make her hackles rise, and tonight she must keep her wits about her.
Strolling into the depths of the garden in her search for privacy, she cursed herself. How had she let herself become so absorbed in Christian that she'd forgotten her vow to Charlotte and all the other women at Charlotte House? Was she that selfish?
It was time to make a move on Bailsworthy and teach the toad a lesson. Defiling women carried a steep price. No, robbing the man at gunpoint would not make him a pauper, but how delicious it would be to see his fear. The kind of fear Kathleen had felt while she was ruined at his hands.
Frustration and anger boiled up within Elizabeth. Pandora had begun to sniffle and sneeze after going out in the storm to search for her that day. She'd been abed since then, so Elizabeth knew it would be at least a week before they could search the scoundrel out and exact their retribution.
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