Simon looked as though he’d swallowed something nasty. Elise laughed. “I take it lectures and poetry are not to your liking?”
“Lectures, fine. Poetry, no. I can tolerate the ones I can understand, but others leave me wondering what the deuced the author is trying to say. Then some other poems raise questions. For example, why did the mariner shoot the albatross in ‘The Rime of the Ancient Mariner’? I’ve often wondered if the author meant it to be a big joke.”
Elise felt her jaw drop. Who was this man? Why was he surprising her so? He should be bored and anxious to leave, eager to scurry away to one of his clubs. Or visit his mistress. He must surely have one. He was unmarried and virile enough to want bed activities on a regular basis.
She flushed at the image that flashed into her mind of both of them naked in bed. A wave of heat started in her stomach and climbed to her face. Hopefully Simon would not notice and mention it.
She also hated how the thought of him in bed with his mistress disturbed her. They were friends. He was helping her avoid marriage, and she, in turn, was doing the same for him. That was all this relationship was about. Cohorts in crime. When the Season ended, she would convince Papa she was unmarriageable and resume her happy life.
Since she would not return to Society, their paths would never cross again. She must keep that at the forefront. “I must admit, Simon, you are full of surprises tonight.”
“Ah, I think you believe I am some sort of fluff who spends his time drinking, racing, gambling, and . . . Well, let’s just say the usual proclivities of gentlemen.”
She studied him for a moment. “Actually, yes. When you approached Lady Dearborn for an introduction, I had no idea you were a highbrow.”
Simon choked. “Now wait a minute, my dear. I am not a frivolous gentleman or a wastrel, but certainly not a highbrow.”
She leaned forward, a smirk on her face. Now she would prove to him, and herself, that he was not of her ilk. “Do you speak French, Italian, and German?”
“Fluently.”
Her brows drew together. “Familiar with Latin?”
“Yes. Read and write it.”
She tapped her finger on the table and offered him a smug look. “Have you heard of, or read, the works of Aristotle, Plato, Voltaire, or Thomas Reid?”
Simon shifted in his chair and ran his finger around the inside of his cravat. “Yes.”
She grinned. “Acquainted with the paintings by Benjamin West and Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot? Opera? Beethoven, Bach—“
Simon held up his hand. “Stop.”
“I believe I have made my point, my lord. Underneath that rakish demeanor lies a highbrow.” She sat back and pondered. Why did that not make her happy? She found her admiration for the man increase as he answered all her questions. However, when she thought it over, it would be difficult to dismiss Simon in the future as someone who would never understand her, which had been another strike against marriage.
She was in trouble.
Elise stood as her guests began their departure. It took a while to see them all out, safely in their carriages and on their way. She stood at the entrance hall, waiting for a moment, gathering her thoughts. Simon had remained behind, and that made her a bit nervous.
Simon in a ballroom, in an open carriage, and in a gathering of intellectuals she could handle. Simon alone with her in the quiet house, where everyone else was most likely in their bedchambers, was a different matter.
Stiffening her shoulders and calling herself so much the fool, she returned to the drawing room. Simon stood at the window, staring into the darkness. He turned when she entered.
“I know your step.” He walked toward her, slowly, almost like a sleek animal eyeing its prey. “I think it is time for me to leave.”
“Yes. I believe so.” Her nervousness returned in full force. Something had changed between them, and she wasn’t sure she was at all comfortable with it. “I will see you out.” She quickly walked to the door and was halfway down the corridor when he reached for her hand, having followed her.
“What?”
He opened the door to the library and drew her in. Leaving the door slightly ajar, he placed his hands on her shoulders and studied her for a minute. Her heart began to pound, and suddenly her legs had a problem holding her up.
“This.” His head descended, and his lips almost touched hers. “I have wanted to do this all night.” Moving the rest of the way, he drew her into his arms. His mouth covered hers in a way she had never expected. His lips were warm, moist, tasting of wine and tea. At her slight sigh, he wrapped one strong arm around her waist and crushed her body to his.
His other hand cupped the back of her head, moving it in a way that allowed him to take the kiss deeper. He nudged her lips with his tongue and smiled when she opened. She might be an innocent, but she knew that what he was doing to her would lead to something wonderful if she allowed it to continue.
At present she could see no reason why she should stop him. As a bluestocking, she should be open to all sorts of new experiences, and besides that, it felt absolutely wonderful. Not one to shy away, she moved her hands up his back and played with the curls hanging over his cravat.
After a few minutes he pulled away and leaned his forehead against hers. They were both breathing heavily. “Do I need to apologize?”
She stared back at him. “No. Why would you?”
“I had not planned this, I promise. Generally I don’t take advantage of innocent young ladies.” He drew back and cupped her cheek. “But now I must go before I do something we will both regret.”
She had a pretty good idea what he meant, and in some ways she was sorry he’d decided that. In fact, the thought just occurred to her that maybe as part of her spinster, bluestocking experience, she should take a lover. She still had no intention of marrying, so maybe a dalliance with Simon would be just the thing.
“What?” he said.
She smiled. “Nothing, why?”
“You are looking at me with a very odd expression on your face.”
She took his arm and walked him to the door. “Good night, my lord.”
***
The following afternoon, Lord Pomeroy entered the Earl of Blackwell’s townhouse and handed his card to the man at the door. He followed the butler down a corridor to the earl’s study. A large, bright room, with windows from the floor to the ceiling, the scant sun shone on a polished wooden desk, with Blackwell sitting behind it. He looked up as Pomeroy entered, pushed aside a ledger, and stood. “Good afternoon, Pomeroy.”
“Good to see you, Blackwell.”
They shook hands and Blackwell waved to a chair by the fireplace. “Would you care for tea? Or brandy?”
Pomeroy rubbed his hands together. “A bit of brandy would be nice.”
Once the two men were settled, Pomeroy took a sip of his brandy and placed the glass on a small table between them. “I am here to ask a favor of you.”
“Anything I can do. You know I owe you for rescuing me from that financial debacle I almost get involved in last year.”
“Yes, bad business, bad business. Someone is always out to lighten our pockets and load up theirs.” He shook his head at the perfidy of man. “You, of course, know my lovely daughters?”
“Yes. Charming girls. Three, correct?”
“Indeed. The loves of my life. Elise is three and twenty, Juliet nine and ten years, and little Marigold is eight and ten. Love them all. Remind me of their mother, bless her soul.” He made the sign of the cross as he always did when he mentioned the late Lady Pomeroy, even though neither of them were Catholic.
“What is it I can help you with?”
“I’d like you to address your suit to Elise.”
Blackwell spit out a bit of brandy and coughed enough that Pomeroy found it necessary to step over to the man and clap him several times on the back. Then he poured a glass of water and handed it to him.
His host wiped his eyes with a handkerchief, and took a d
eep breath, alarm written all over his face. “You are asking me to marry your daughter?”
“No, no. Nothing like that. I want you to pretend to court her.”
Blackwell’s body visibly relaxed. “Maybe you’d better explain yourself.”
“No one is lovelier than my girls. Not a day goes by that I don’t thank the good Lord for the blessing of their presence. Also, not a day goes by that a new stack of bills doesn’t arrive. Gowns, gloves, slippers, nightgowns, robes, bonnets, fans. I tell you, the list is endless.” He stopped for a moment and stared into space, remembering the bills that had just arrived that morning.
Shaking his head, he continued. “My two younger girls will be married in no time. Beautiful faces, lovely forms, charming personalities. They are not the problem. But my dear Elise.” He sighed. “She is what is known as a bluestocking. Doesn’t like Society, eschews any mention of marriage, and holds what she calls ‘intellectual gatherings.’ Very strange people show up at these things. I generally ensconce myself in my library until the place clears out.”
Pomeroy held up his glass and Blackwell fetched him a refill. “Go on.”
I told my lovelies that I would not entertain offers for my two younger girls until Elise married.”
“Well. How did she take that?”
“Not well, I’m afraid. Once Lady Pomeroy passed away, Elise took over the mother role for Juliet and Marigold. She would not do anything to hurt their chances at marriage, which is something they dearly desire.” He waved his finger “They, you see, are sensible young ladies who know what their duty in life is.”
Blackwell nodded.
“Elise has been courted for the past two weeks by a wonderful man, Viscount St. George. Had him checked out. Sober fellow. Doesn’t participate in drunken races with his curricle at dawn with the other loons, or toss his inheritance away on games. If the man has a mistress, he’s discreet about it.”
“Well, if she already has a suitor, why do you need me to pretend to court her?”
“When a man has daughters and no wife to supervise them, he has to find ways to discover what the devil they’re up to.” He took a sip of brandy. “Consequently, I listen at doors, and you would be surprised what women will discuss without being sure they are not overheard. My lovely, intelligent, devious eldest daughter has conspired with St. George to have him pretend to court her to keep the other bucks away, and then at the end of the Season he will hie off to the country.
“The plan is for my poor, brokenhearted daughter to tell me she is unmarriageable and we should just allow Juliet and Marigold to have their Season and find husbands.”
Blackwell let out with the low whistle. “Very clever.”
“Yes. Very clever, indeed.” He sat morosely, looking at his glass. “But,” he perked up, “I have a plan.” He moved to the edge of the chair. “I will introduce you to Elise as a man who has approached me about accepting his suit. I will tell her if no one else offers for her, I will accept your offer.”
“I assume you hope St. George comes up to scratch when he sees competition?”
“Exactly. I think these two will do very well together. He actually attended one of her gatherings last night and did not run screaming from the house. Either he is one of these intellectuals himself, or he is fond of Elise.”
“What is your guess?”
Pomeroy drank the last of his brandy and smiled. “As I say, when you have daughters you have to find ways to learn what they are up to. As always, last night I hid during Elise’s gathering, and when St. George was taking his leave, he pulled her into my library. It was dark, and they never saw me just sitting there, enjoying the solitude.”
“And?”
“And let’s just say I don’t believe young St. George is as much of a pretend suitor as Elise believes. One little nudge and he will be right where I want him.” He pointed at Blackwell. “You, my lord, are that nudge.”
Chapter Four
“You sent for me, Papa?” Elise tugged on her gloves as she entered her father’s study.
He looked up from the newspaper he read. “Yes, my darling girl. I have some excellent news for you.” He pointed to a chair in front of his desk, then walked around the desk and leaned his hip on the edge, his foot swinging back and forth. This was another of those times when she realized how young and very handsome her father was.
He was only five and forty years, and even though that seemed like a great age to her, she’d seen ladies looking at him when he attended a social event or two. He was always inundated with invitations, but accepted very few.
His brown hair had light streaks of gray throughout, but his face was strong, with only crinkles at the edge of his eyes and near his mouth. His blue eyes oftentimes twinkled with humor. Yes, it was a mystery as to why he’d remained single all these years. Since Mother had been his great love, he seemed to want no other.
Then a frightening thought crossed her mind. Was this plan of Papa’s a way to get rid of all three of them so he could marry again? Goodness, a new wife would certainly not want another woman running the household. Disturbing notion, that.
“What is your great news, Papa?”
“I have found a husband for you.”
She reared back as if he’d slapped her. All the air left her lungs, and for a moment black dots danced in front of her eyes. Surely she’d misheard him? “A husband?”
“Yes.” He rubbed his hands together. “’Tis all taken care of. Now you don’t have to worry about bringing young St. George up to scratch.”
“But…but…I like Simon. I mean, St. George.” Whatever was Papa doing now? She had to dissuade him from this plan. She had her own plan.
“Ah, here is Lord Blackwell now.” Her father moved toward the door and shook hands with an older man. He looked a bit unsure of himself as he entered the room and cast an uneasy glance in her direction. He seemed of an age with her father. Even though she had just been thinking how young and handsome Papa was, she certainly didn’t want to consider a man of that age for herself!
Wait just a minute. She didn’t want to consider any man for herself. Good grief, her perfect plan was falling apart.
“My dear, may I present to you the Earl of Blackwell.” He smiled warmly at her, and then said, “Blackwell, this is my eldest darling daughter, Lady Elise Smith.” He looked back and forth between them as if planning the menu for the wedding breakfast.
Drawing on years of good manners, she extended her arm and allowed Blackwell to take her hand and then bow to her. “My lady, your servant.”
She curtsied. “My lord, it is nice to meet you.” Oh, God, how could she get out of this? Lord Blackwell appeared to be a nice man. Pleasant looking, and nice eyes, but she had no intention of marrying him.
“My lady, I have been invited to Lady Townsend’s garden party two days hence. I would consider it an honor if you deign to accompany me.”
Why did she think he had memorized those words? They came out very stilted. Also, he looked over to Papa, almost for approval.
Papa slapped Blackwell on the back. “Of course, she will. My sweet girl loves garden parties, don’t you, my dear?” He looked at her with such love and devotion she felt a slight pang of guilt at the duplicity in which she and Simon were engaged. Then she told herself Papa was manipulating her like he’d never done before. That gave her pause. She would not give up or give in.
With both men staring at her, she had no choice at this point. “Yes, my lord, I would love to attend Lady Townsend’s garden party with you.”
“I look forward to it. I will be by about two o’clock.” Blackwell bowed and turned to her father. “Pomeroy, I wonder if I might have a word with you in private.”
Elise was more than happy to escape the room. She did a quick dip and hurried away. Once she was outside the study, she took a deep breath and leaned against the wall. This was a mess. She had to send word to Simon of Papa’s plan. It was his job to keep men away, and it appeared he needed to
increase his attentions to convince Papa.
***
The ride to Lady Townsend’s garden party was quiet. Lord Blackwell was gracious and attentive, but she couldn’t help but feel something was off. He certainly did not act like a man who had approached her father for the purpose of presenting his suit. Until he appeared in Papa’s study, she’d never laid eyes on the man. Where had he seen her, that he decided he wanted to court her?
They rolled up to the townhouse, along with several other carriages, also alighting passengers. Blackwell jumped out of the carriage and turned to help her out. She took his hand, thinking how different it felt from Simon’s. Blackwell smiled at her, but somehow it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
A footman stood on the pavement and directed the guests to follow the path alongside the townhouse, which took them to the back garden area. Guests wandered around, some chatting with other guests, some admiring the flower gardens. Tables had been set up, and footmen carried trays of lemonade.
“Would you enjoy a stroll, my lady? Or would you prefer to greet some of the guests?”
What she wanted was to go home and read the book she’d started that morning. At least when she was with Simon, he kept her entertained with humorous repartee and amusing comments about other guests that had her biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.
“Lady Elise, I had no idea you would be here this afternoon.” Her heart sped up at the sound of Simon’s voice. She turned, and her breath caught. The sun glistened on his hair, highlighting the red streaks. His blue eyes sparkled as he bowed to her. Snug breeches tucked into shiny Hessian boots, covered his muscled thighs. His dark brown jacket and tan and silver waistcoat, topped off with a rakishly tied cravat completed the perfect outfit for a lordly gentleman at an afternoon garden party.
Of course he’d been fully aware that she was attending the garden party and with whom. She’d sent a note as soon as she had escaped to her room, right after leaving Papa and Lord Blackwell. Besides telling him of Papa’s plan, she chastised him for not doing a proper job of keeping men away.
For the Love of the Viscount (The Noble Hearts Series Book 1) Page 4
