Never Miss a Chance (Kellington Book Two)

by Maureen Driscoll

  “I have a mind to call on the fellow myself.” Stapleton had become friends with the Kellington family while investigating Ned for murder earlier in the year. Riverton had no doubt the inspector would lend whatever assistance he could to the family – both officially and on his own.

  “I sympathize. But it was thought that the less commotion the better.”

  “What will happen now?”

  “My guess is she’ll be married within three months. Lynwood is coming up with candidates as we speak.”

  “I see,” said Stapleton as he took another sip. “Shall I wish you happy?”

  Riverton stared at his friend, at a loss for words.

  “You will offer for her, won’t you?” asked Stapleton.

  Riverton tried to swallow. Had he been that obvious? “She’s just a child.”

  “She’s one-and-twenty and only nine years your junior. She’s old enough to marry and I can’t imagine Lynwood entrusting her to anyone but you. Furthermore, I believe you’d suit admirably.”

  Riverton tried not to see the wisdom in Stapleton’s words, since he knew they’d come to naught. “You’re just saying that because there are so few members of the peerage you like, so you’re simply sticking two together you can tolerate.”

  “While it’s true that I’m not a particular fan of many members of your lot, I have a great deal of respect for Lady Elizabeth, although I must say I was surprised by some of the ideas I read in her treatise. However, I believe the two of you would do well together.”

  “You can’t possibly think I agree with her views.”

  “No. But I’ve seen the two of you together and unless my instincts have failed me – and keep in mind I am one of Bow Street’s best – I believe your interest in Lady Elizabeth is not that of simply a family friend.” Stapleton put down his drink and waved off another.

  “How obvious am I?” asked Riverton, not really wanting to hear the answer.

  “I picked up on it, although I’m not sure if Lynwood has.”

  “And have you noticed any feelings she might have for me?” Riverton cursed himself for asking, but he was at wit’s end on how to proceed.

  Stapleton paused to examine his glass. “I’m not quite sure. Women are harder for me to read. But she deserves someone who cares for her and will treat her well.”

  “You think we should marry because I’d be good for her?”

  “Partly,” said Stapleton, looking at his friend once more. “But I really think you should marry because she would be good for you.” He rose from his chair. “I need to get back to my investigation. I’ll be stopping at Lynwood House during the next few days, but please tell his grace to call for me if I can be of assistance.”

  Stapleton departed, leaving Riverton to his disconcerting but intriguing thoughts.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Despite lingering over breakfast, Riverton found himself outside Lynwood House at the unfashionably early hour of nine of the o’clock the next morning.

  Only to learn he wasn’t the first visitor of the day.

  The Earl of Stalford was exiting the house as Riverton climbed out of his carriage.

  “What brings you here this early, Riverton?” asked Stalford in an appallingly good mood. He was wearing a garish chartreuse waistcoat, no doubt one of those monstrosities he’d bought in Paris that he was constantly going on and on about.

  “Calling on my friend, Stalford,” said Riverton stiffly.

  “Don’t keep Lynwood too long – the man barely had time for me this morning and Elizabeth isn’t receiving at all. But it’s to be expected when you think about it.”

  Riverton clenched his jaw in response to Stalford’s use of Lizzie’s Christian name. “I can’t imagine any young lady receiving at this hour the morning after a ball.”

  “Yes, but she’s not just any young lady and that was far from just any ball,” said Stalford with a snort. “Elizabeth will be ruined unless proper action is taken quickly. It’s good of you to come and show your support. I’m sure Lynwood will fill you in on my solution.”

  With those words, the cheerful Stalford somehow descended the rest of the steps without being pushed by Riverton.

  But it was a very near thing.

  Riverton approached the door, only to have it opened by a visibly relieved Heskiss.

  “Welcome back, my lord,” said the butler.

  “Thank you, Heskiss,” said Riverton as he handed him his hat and walking stick. “How is Lady Elizabeth this morning?”

  “I hope she is well, my lord. We’ve had a steady stream of visitors this morning, so she has kept to her rooms.”

  Riverton was surprised but pleased to hear of the visitors. If ladies were calling to show their support, perhaps the situation wasn’t as dire as he thought. Then he looked around. The foyer was filled with bouquets.

  “It looks like a Covent Garden flower stall,” said Riverton, wondering just how many gentlemen had been there before him.

  “I would certainly hope not, my lord,” said Heskiss, as he pushed one vase of flowers back in alignment with the others.

  Lynwood walked out of his study. He was impeccably dressed, as always, but had dark circles under his eyes. “Marcus, thank God you’ve come. Heskiss, I don’t want one more damned fortune hunter to come through that door.”

  “Of course not, your grace.”

  “How many have been here?” asked Riverton.

  “Too damned many,” said Lynwood, walking toward the breakfast room. “Have you eaten? I haven’t had time to break my fast, what with entertaining offers from men suddenly overcome with the desire to rescue my sister while simultaneously saving their estates and paying off their vowels. Please help yourself,” he said as they reached the sideboard. The Kellingtons often had informal meals, even if they were eating off centuries-old china emblazoned with the ducal crest.

  “I’ll only have coffee, thank you.”

  With a nod, Lynwood dismissed the servants, then filled his own plate and took a seat.

  “Have you received any eligible offers?” asked Riverton, pleased that his voice sounded reasonably steady.

  Lynwood took his seat. “Stalford. He’s not a bad choice…”

  “You’re jesting!” The reasonable voice having been firmly vanquished.

  “Still not a fan of Stalford, eh? He is self-serving in Lords, but that’s hardly unusual. He seems sincere in his concern for Lizzie and comes from a good family.”

  “His pockets are to let.”

  “I asked him about that. He assured me it’s because he’s worked, in his words, ‘tirelessly and heroically’ on his tenants’ behalf, reinvesting rents from his estates to modernize farming methods. It’s quite admirable, really.”

  “What does Lady Elizabeth say about this?”

  “I haven’t yet discussed him with her. I wanted to take a few days to come up with a list of candidates. But perhaps Stalford is the answer.”

  Riverton’s response was a terse “He’s not.”

  The marquess barely restrained himself from smashing his coffee cup against the wall. This couldn’t be happening. And it especially couldn’t be happening before he could come up with a plan.

  Lynwood raised an eyebrow, surprised at his friend’s vehemence. “Then who is the right choice?”

  “I am,” said Riverton. “I would be the best husband for Lady Elizabeth.”

  Lynwood’s heavily laden fork stopped midway between plate and mouth. It hovered there for a moment as the duke studied his best friend, then he finally put it down.

  “Are you offering?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  Lynwood digested that information for a moment, his face carefully blanked. “Why?”

  Riverton didn’t know the right answer, although he was aware of the real reason. He was truly, painfully in love with his best friend’s sister. He’d spent the first half hour after going to bed the previous night trying to convince himself not to offer for her. Then he’d spent t
he rest of the night dreaming of making love to her.

  But he couldn’t exactly say that to her brother.

  He cleared his throat. The next few moments would be some of the most important of his life. He had to win Lynwood to his side. And he’d do it with the same tools he’d use in the House of Lords: logic and reason. “I have a great deal of respect for your sister. She’s everything a man could want in a wife. For my part, I would provide the protection of my name. She would become a marchioness, and, if we are blessed with children, the Riverton line would be joined with the house of Lynwood. My estates are in sound financial shape. She would be provided every comfort and allowed the freedom she craves – within reason, of course. All in all, it would be a most fortuitous match, as well as a solution to the current situation.”

  Logic and reason. They paled in comparison to how heated his blood became just by the very thought of making Lizzie his wife. He hadn’t even considered it a possibility until he’d spoken in haste moments earlier. But now, all he could think of was making it a reality. And for the rest of his life, he would always wonder how he could’ve described the passion running through him with such bloodless words.

  He wouldn’t be the only one.

  Lynwood didn’t speak. He could only stare.

  The silence was finally broken by Heskiss clearing his throat. “Your grace, Lord Riverton, Lady Elizabeth has joined you, accompanied by Lords Arthur and Henry.

  Riverton and Lynwood turned to see a silent, wide-eyed Lizzie, accompanied by her equally surprised brothers. It was unclear how long they’d been standing there, but from their expressions, it had been long enough.

  “I know the gentlemanly thing to do would be to leave the room and pretend we’d never been here,” said Arthur, walking to the sideboard. “But I have the devil of a headache and am in desperate need of coffee. Sorry, Riverton. But carry on as if we’re not here.”

  “Please do,” said Hal, snatching an apple from a bowl. “I haven’t been this entertained in ages.”

  “I know it is quite too much to ask,” said their sister, who’d finally found her voice, “but can the two of you please hold your tongues until some day in the distant future when your meager brains hatch thoughts of worth?” She was addressing her brothers, but her eyes were fixed firmly on Riverton.

  “Don’t mind her,” said Arthur to Riverton. “The brat is always in a mood most foul until she has her chocolate. You may want to keep that in mind with any thoughts toward matrimonial bliss.”

  Lizzie tore her gaze away from Riverton and turned to Lynwood. “Am I to understand that the Earl of Stalford expressed an interest in courting me?”

  “He asked if he may pay his addresses,” replied Lynwood.

  “And all those flower arrangements in the foyer?” she asked.

  “From various admirers. Some suitable, some not.”

  “And just who would determine their degree of suitability?” asked Lizzie with more than a hint of steel in her voice.

  “The head of the family,” said Lynwood in a matching tone. “With your input, of course.”

  “Of course.” She turned back to Riverton. “Am I to understand, my lord, that you are proposing marriage as some sort of rescue? As one might take in an abandoned pet?”

  “Does my offer of marriage offend you Lady Elizabeth?” he asked, with the hint of a wry smile. “I assure you that was not my intent.”

  “Marriage to the Marquess of Riverton would be an honor for any woman,” she said.

  Riverton released the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

  “But as a proposal, that, sir, was only slightly less romantic than when Heskiss gives the footmen their weekly assignments.”

  “Technically, it wasn’t a proposal. I was only asking Lynwood for permission to address you.”

  “And you did it with all the enthusiasm of a man approaching the gallows. Why would you offer for me if you don’t wish to?”

  “Who says I don’t wish to?”

  “You don’t have to say it. It was clear from your proposal.”

  “It wasn’t a proposal!” The woman was maddening.

  “That is my very point. It was a ‘joining of the Riverton and Lynwood lines,’ as if you were selecting a brood mare from a line of winning racehorses!” She came close to, but narrowly avoided, stomping her foot.

  “She needs her chocolate,” said Arthur, as he dug into his rasher of bacon.

  “Arthur, Hal, perhaps we should give our sister and Riverton some time alone,” said Lynwood, already walking toward the door and fully expecting to be followed. “And, Riverton?”

  Riverton and Lizzie both looked at him.

  “You have my permission to offer for my sister – God help you.” Lynwood had just the hint of a smile as he left the room, followed by Arthur and Hal, clutching their plates as they went.

  Then Lizzie and Riverton were absolutely and frighteningly alone.

  It had been a sleepless night for Lizzie. Her mind had raced with the events at the Tarlington ball. The snubs, the leers, the unaccustomed feeling of not being in control. There was the ham-handed mauling by the idiot baronet and a rather nice conversation with the Earl of Stalford. But foremost in her mind had been the Marquess of Riverton. Marcus.

  Not just his rescue, which was quick-thinking and gallant. But the waltz. Then the conversation in the garden. It was a new experience to be treated like an adult, especially by someone like Riverton.

  Although, once she thought about it, it hadn’t seemed out of character for him at all.

  He’d always listened to her. Even on those long-ago visits to Lynwood Manor during school holidays, he’d been the one to listen to her while her brothers couldn’t wait to leave her behind. She’d thought him remarkably handsome, but terribly old. For his part, he’d always treated her politely, but somewhat distantly. But last night, they seemed to be equals. There’d been an intimacy and understanding unlike any she’d ever experienced. And she was intrigued to see where they’d go from there.

  She’d been watching out her window that morning to see a steady stream of men arrive at the house carrying flowers, only to be sent out again moments later. And what a parade it had been. Second sons, first sons known for their gaming addictions, infamous rakes. And they all thought they now stood a chance to win her fortune. Nothing else could’ve have shown her just how low she’d fallen than that group of suitors. The only decent one of the bunch had been the Earl of Stalford.

  Until Marcus had arrived. She’d finished dressing quickly, anxious to see him, only to arrive in the breakfast room to hear the most dispassionate declaration she could ever imagine. She knew from their discussion the previous evening that he’d resigned himself to a marriage of convenience. But it had never been her dream to be just a convenience to anyone. Especially not to her husband.

  And now he was looking at her, expecting an answer.

  She raised her chin and met his eyes. “My lord, I cannot allow your sacrifice.”

  “And what sacrifice would that be, Lady Elizabeth?”

  “To give yourself in marriage simply to save the house of Lynwood. I realize you and Liam are friends, but even he wouldn’t expect such an act.”

  “This has nothing to do with Liam.”

  Which somehow made it worse, thought Lizzie. She could see how helping out a friend could lead one to make such a dispassionate plea for marriage. But if he was taking his feelings for her into account and still couched his proposal in such terms as might be found in some sort of scientific journal expounding on a species of plant, it was depressing beyond belief. Actually, worse, since she’d had the misfortune of attending a most boring lecture at the Zoological Society a few months earlier and the scholar had been positively euphoric. About a plant.

  She was determined to get a reaction out of Riverton, similar to that nice-but-boring Mr. Turnbridge and his flora of the Amazon.

  She took two steps closer to him, breaking the standard barrier of
propriety. She noticed he somehow stilled his initial reaction to back up. “May I call you Marcus? You did just propose, after all.”

  “I didn’t propose.”

  “So you’re going back on your offer? Are you jilting me, Marcus?” She knew she was twisting his words, but didn’t care.

  “Of course not.” He was maddeningly calm. “I only made my intentions clear to your brother. If given permission, I intend to court you for a reasonable amount of time, then ask for your hand.”

  “Ask me or Liam?” His eyelashes were long enough to be the envy of any woman.

  There was a momentary pause, as if he knew it to be a trick question. Which was wise, since it most definitely was. “Both.”

  “And whose answer would be more important? No, don’t tell me, Marcus. I fear the answer would be demoralizing.” Lizzie slowly circled him. He remained perfectly still, giving her a gratifying view of all sides of him. Including a most intriguing look at his bottom. Unfortunately, the sight caused her to blush slightly, a fact he didn’t miss when they were once again face to face.

  The corners of his mouth turned up slightly.

  She went on the verbal offensive again. “Will you really court me, Marcus? I mean, no man would simply walk into a lady’s house, express an interest to wed, then expect the transaction to be ratified without further effort. I am not that horse I spoke of earlier.”

  “Lady Elizabeth….”

  “It’s Lizzie, Marcus.”

  “Lizzie, I am well aware that you’re not a horse.”

  “I am all aflutter at such romantic words.”

  He paused again, refusing to take the bait. He responded as calmly as ever, rooted to the floor, despite her incremental approach. “You are the one who brought up the horse comparison.”

  “Because I was hoping to get some sort of reaction out of you. Raise your voice! Make mad passionate love to me! Do something other than stand there like I was nothing more to you than a chore to be done.”

  Riverton looked non-plussed. “There are servants nearby, not to mention three of your brothers no doubt lurking outside the door. Raising my voice would bring them in here. Making mad passionate love to you would get me killed. Although…” He looked at her, unsure whether to go on.