ROMANCE: The Surprise That Rocked Me

by Linda Wright

  The boyish laughter erupted again. “Madam, life has a pecking order and I’m at the top. I outrank him. I call him whatever I please.”

  “You can’t have many friends if you treat people like chickens.”

  “I don’t need many friends.”

  “Do you devour everyone that stumbles into your web?”

  The man’s eyes looked like frozen mud as his voice cracked like a warming icicle. “Madam; I do not find that amusing.”

  Elizabeth shivered with cold relief. All she had to do was keep insulting the man and she’d be free of his unwanted attentions. “I don’t find it amusing when you call Lord Devonshire a pinhead.”

  The beautiful man’s lips turned up as he snorted in amusement. “Lord Devonshire…” The Duke sneered his rival’s name with contempt. “…would be enraptured to hear it.”

  “Why?”

  The beautiful man turned to gaze at her with amusement. “Because the fool’s in love with you.”

  Elizabeth flinched in shock. “He told you he loved me?” Her embroidery lay forgotten in her lap as she relived chocolate adoring eyes, electric fingers caressing her throat and his divine kisses. Even her beloved Benjamin had never made her feel so… She struggled to find an appropriate word to describe her complicated feelings.

  The Duke heartlessly interrupted her pleasant memories. “You can always tell when a man’s in love. He stares at his heart’s desire with an expression that would be mistaken for indigestion if his eyes weren’t so focused upon one woman. Wherever she goes, his eyes follow with longing. He’s a slave to the ache in his chest demanding he make her his own. It’s sickening. I urge any admirable man to avoid it like the plague.”

  “Don’t you think that’s rather cruel? What if the next day he was to meet a woman who’d win his heart? Your unhelpful advice might ruin his life.”

  “Life is cruel; then we die.”

  Elizabeth eyed the beautiful man with distaste as she realised if she didn’t start seeing life’s happy side of the coin she’d end up bitter and twisted too. “Has your life been so unlucky that you can’t see a single good thing?”

  “There are a few momentary pleasures.” His eyes raked her with a gleam that threatened future intimacies. The thought made her want to burst into tears.

  “Life is cruel in-between pleasures then you die? I think even Lord Devonshire would say I’m a ray of optimism next to your fated doom. Don’t you see any good in anything? Aren’t you glad you’re alive?”

  “No. Why would I be glad I’m alive?”

  “Don’t you feel glad you have two eyes when you see a rainbow? Haven’t you ever heard a piece of music so beautiful it made you cry? When you step out of a carriage after a long ride; aren’t you glad you have two legs that work?”

  “The day I rejoice in a sore backside my coachman will be dropping me off at Bedlam. Nothing good lasts more than a flicker. Wretchedness is merely made more acute by having sampled a minute portion of happiness, believe me.”

  Elizabeth shook her head as if to break free from mental chains of doom. “Tragedy is only one side of the coin my Lord. We can find happiness if we turn the coin over and look for the good.”

  The Duke’s rudely snorted. “It sounds like Pinhead has been mesmerising you with tales of blue skies.”

  “What if he has? Is it so bad to see the good? Is it so impossible to be happy?”

  “There is no such thing as happiness.”

  “I pity the woman you marry. Her life will be utterly miserable without even a hint of peace or happiness in her home. Even if she loves you, you won’t let her love you. The poor wretch will cry herself to sleep praying one day your icy heart will thaw, but it won’t. And then one day your heart will stop and they’ll put you in the freezing crypt where you’ll be miserable forever.”

  “I don’t want anything to do with love. That’s why you’ll make an acceptable companion. I’ll never fall in love with you and you’ll never love me. You’ll do your duty without encumbering my bed with emotional hysterics. I loathe emotional hysterics.”

  “You certainly weren’t born a romantic.”

  “Romance is nothing more than cruel theatrics put on by one’s inner organs.”

  The angry vehemence of his words made Elizabeth’s eyes fill with compassionate tears as she suddenly saw a younger man made an early widower. “You loved your wife didn’t you? She died and broke your heart.” The Duke silently turned away and stared intently out the window at his side as if she hadn’t addressed him. “That must have been awful, but didn’t she give you a son? Surely having a part of her is better than nothing?” His only response was to tighten his arms across his chest. “I may wear the crown of doom, but I don’t revel in it. I want to be happy. I want to marry someone who makes me smile when he steps into view. I don’t want to marry a miserable wretch. I’m afraid you’ll have to continue searching for a more suitable miserable Duchess.”

  “You’re eminently suitable.” The words crackled like a half frozen mud puddle.

  “Why?”

  The Duke’s head turned towards her enough so his cold brown eyes could look her up and down. “When you die in childbed I can bury you without any sense of loss. It’s the sensible option. You need a husband. I need legitimate heirs. We marry. Problems solved.”

  “Luckily I have another option. Lord Devonshire has asked me to marry him and I’ve a mind to accept.”

  “You’ll come to admire my finer qualities. My last mistress hated me for years, but she still begged me not to leave her.”

  “She’s was probably afraid of starving…why did you leave her?”

  “She fell in love with me. Every time we met she’d water my chest with a warm shower of tears as she pled for some sign of affection. I wasn’t paying her for affection. It’s hard to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh with a woman who thinks that if she water’s one with enough tears love will somehow erupt like a fungus on one’s chest.” Elizabeth felt sorry for the unknown woman as the Duke snorted in derision.

  “Why didn’t you marry her?

  The frozen mud puddles turned to look at her with irritation. “Don’t you listen? I told you I don’t want anything to do with love. I have no desire to wake up every morning and face a woman who longs for something I’ll never give her. How boring. I want pleasure and simplicity; nothing more.”

  “Well if that’s all you want there are plenty of ladies who’ll oblige you, but I’m not one of them.”

  The cold brown eyes were again amused. “That’s why you’re going to marry me.”

  “I’m going to marry you because I don’t want to marry you? Have you been drinking?”

  The beautiful man appeared not to have heard her. “Why does Lord Pinhead call you Penny?”

  “Why don’t you ask him?”

  “I suspect he wishes to collect you and put you in a jar. I wonder if he’d take you out every evening to play with you or if he’d leave you out for hourly inspection. I’ll choose the latter.”

  Elizabeth clutched her embroidery for courage. “I’m glad Lord Devonshire was the first to visit me this morning. I was feeling so wretched I might have accepted even your offer, but not after his Lordship’s visit.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t bear to marry you; the thought repulses me. Take me home!”

  The man at her side unfolded his arms and slid closer until he whispered in her ear, “Did Lord Pinhead make love to you this morning? I see by your sudden feverish cheeks that he did. Did he kiss you? Did he tell you a story about how he aches for you? I assure you Madam there’s little difference between what he feels for you and what I want from you except I’m not suffering from acute indigestion.” Elizabeth bent over her embroidery and prayed he’d disappear as the man’s lips hovered near her cheek. “You stink of eau d’amour. Never mind, it’ll fade into something more palatable after a few years as my wife.”

  Elizabeth flinched as he caressed her cheek with his nose. “Don’t touch me.”
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br />   “Am I not allowed the same liberties as my boyish rival?” Elizabeth shivered in fear as cool lips skimmed the corner of her mouth. “How can I convince you of my superior worth if you don’t allow me an opportunity to demonstrate?”

  “Don’t…” Long slender fingers encircled her waist. Please…don’t…” She cringed away from lips caressing the corner of her mouth. “…stop…I’m warning you…stop.” Amused laughter warmed her cheeks belittling her protest. Clutching her needle she jabbed hard into the back of his hand.

  “Ouch!” The hands momentarily withdrew before grabbing for her weapon. She wounded his grasping fingers and then stabbed his leg for good measure. “Hellion!” The beautiful man slid back to his own corner rubbing his thigh. “What did you do that for? I was only kissing you.”

  “I warned you.”

  “You didn’t say anything about stabbing me. I’ll have to clear my house of all sharp objects. It’s a good thing I like eating soup.”

  “I’m not going to marry you. Take me home or else.”

  The man eyed her embroidery through narrow slits. “We haven’t finished our ride.” He casually let down his window and returned his attention to Elizabeth.

  “It was finished before it started. I don’t like you. I think you’re a boring hateful wretch and I’d rather die than be your Duchess.”

  “Playing hard to get?” The man lounging in the corner suddenly lunged for her embroidery. Grabbing the fabric he pulled it from her slippery fingers and tossed it out the window with a triumphant smile. “Now we can safely finish discussing our impending nuptials. Your dramatic resistance is noted, but I’m afraid I’ve made up my mind and as anyone will tell you…”

  Elizabeth’s eyes filled with tears as she stared horrified past the man’s moving lips and out his window as the lashing rain. They’d left Bath and were heading north east through the countryside. “Where are we going?”

  “Scotland. Relax Hellion; I’m not going to ravish you. As my wife you’ll receive the utmost courtesy.”

  “Since when has kidnapping become a courtesy?” Lord Devonshire would think she’d willingly absconded to become a Duchess. Tears gushed from her eyes. He’d hate her. He’d never kiss her again.

  “There’s no need to cry Hellion. You’re perfectly safe.” She cried louder as the beautiful man reluctantly slid back to her side and scowled at her tears. “You look awful when you cry.” She sobbed harder as she imagined what Lord Devonshire would do if he found her crying. He’d take her in his electric arms and whisper sweet happy words in her ear. “Come Madam; being a Duchess is no mean thing.” She flinched as a masculine hand came to rest on her thigh. “Truly, it won’t be as bad as you think. I’ve never hurt a woman; I’d hardly start with my wife. You’ll have every luxury…”

  “Everything, but kindness or love.”

  The man rolled his eyes as he sighed loudly in irritation. “Love and kindness are highly overrated. A comfortable bed, a full belly, a purse of gold and the occasional pleasure are adequate believe me.”

  “I want to marry Lord Devonshire.”

  The Duke sneered, “Well you’re not going to marry Lord Pinhead. You’re going to marry me; you suit my needs. Besides, our union will make Lord Pinhead pin himself into a shroud. I can see him now as he gets the news…he’ll pale as his heart’s blood drains away to the sensation of acute drumming agony…”

  Elizabeth turned to stare in horror. “That’s why you want to marry me; to injure Lord Devonshire? Are you mad? What has he done to deserve a broken heart?”

  “Madam if I didn’t want you I wouldn’t marry you. The fact Lord Pinhead will be crushed by our union is merely a bonus.”

  “No. You want to marry me because Lord Devonshire is in love with me. I’ve never met anyone so…evil.”

  “You clearly haven’t met my cousin Lyndhurst.”

  “Take me back to Bath.”

  “Madam; fighting your fate will do nothing, but irritate me. If you think to scratch out my eyes I warn you, you’ll be wearing that dress until you come to your senses.”

  “Take me back. Now!”

  The Duke’s lips curled up in amusement. “Protesting against your fate is unproductive. I suggest you quietly accept your future happy state and cease your senseless…” The Duke grimaced in agony as Elizabeth plunged her eight inch hat pin deep into his leg before pulling it out and stabbing at his arm. “Kill me and they’ll hang you…” The words were hissed between clenched teeth.

  “I don’t imagine there’s much difference between hanging and suffocating as your unloved bride…Your Grace.”

  “Hellion! Give me that hatpin…Ouch! Blast it…that hurt.” He rubbed his leg as he blinked away unmanly tears. “Fine, I’ll take you back, but you will marry me.”

  “Not unless you want to suffer.”

  “You’ll willingly accept my proposal; I always get what I want.”

  “You must want to suffer, because that’s what you’ll get. Turn this coach around before I do something insensible.”

  The Duke leaned out of the open window into the rain and shouted, “Take us back to Bath. Miss Morgan wishes to return home.” Ignoring her, he rested an elbow on the open window with his face turned into the rain and rubbed his leg. Elizabeth clutched the hat pin like a dagger until the outskirts of Bath appeared on the horizon. She reluctantly tucked it back into the crown of her hat and through her hair and wondered what Lord Devonshire would say when she told him she’d marry him without delay.

  Chapter 11

  James returned home chilled to the bone, his clothes soaking wet. The agony of his failure to find the Duke’s carriage was compounded by a throbbing headache and violent shivers. Gulping down a hot drink he crawled into bed intent on getting up and returning to Lady Sophia’s drawing room as soon as he was warm.

  A bright cheerful morning sun woke him from unpleasant slumbers of being roasted in hell by the Duke of Strathmore to find he was burning up with fever. He could die. The horrifying thought made him groan. He might never kiss his Penny again or tell her that he loved her. His heart might be silenced before it could deliver its treasure. Fat tears quickly dried on his burning cheeks. There was no telling what Strathmore might do. James knew he couldn’t waste time. He tried crawling out of bed, but quickly crawled back into it. Being carried into his beloved’s presence on a stretcher would not give the right impression. He’d send a love letter. Women liked that sort of thing and she’d have a souvenir if he died. Half delirious, he sat up in bed hunched over his travelling desk and scribbled his heart onto a sheet of paper and then sent for his footman. “This must be delivered directly into Miss Elizabeth Morgan’s hands.” The servant took the letter and returned half an hour later. “How did she receive it? Did she say anything? Did she look pleased?”

  “I’m sorry my Lord, the man at the door said I was to hand the letter to him which was contrary to your orders…so I brought it back.”

  James felt his eyes well up with tears as he moaned in physical and mental anguish. “I want it in her hands within the hour…whatever it takes.”

  “My Lord; perhaps I might inspire Lady Sophia’s servant’s charitable interests with money? How badly do you want me to accomplish the task?”

  “Money? Yes…take the purse…on my dressing table…tell her I wish I could deliver it in person.”

  “As you wish my Lord.” The manservant tucked the heavy purse into his pocket and quietly closed the door behind him. Sniffing back his tears James relaxed and fell back to sleep for another few hours of being roasted on a spit turned by a horned Strathmore. He woke in a dark room, the curtains drawn against the night. Thirsty, he reached over and rang his bell. The maid stepped into the room looking half asleep.

  “You rang me Lord?”

  “I’m parched…” He gulped down the offered liquid and then sighed with relief. “My letter…did John succeed?”

  “Succeed in what me Lord?”

  “I sent him to delive
r a letter to my Penny.”

  “Did ye? That’s odd. He packed his bags and left without notice this morning. Said he couldn’t abide…well, you’re lucky to be rid of him me Lord. He was no good as a footman always lounging around picking his teeth. I tell ye I never did like him.”

  “My letter?”

  “There was nothing in his room, but the bed linen and a used chamber pot.”

  “Send for Doodle.”

  “Doodle me Lord?”

  “Mr Reggie Morgan…send for him and hand me my writing case. I need to write another letter…”

  “It’s three in the morning me Lord; he’s likely drunk. We’ll send for him first thing gone ten.” She refreshed the wet rag on his forehead in the bowl at his bedside and quietly left James groaning to himself, tormented by anxiety caused by a mental drawer that he couldn’t close labelled ‘first love letter’. Inside the mental drawer was a small scrap of paper that read, ‘Whereabouts unknown; task uncompleted.’