by Renee Ryan
Tonight, she didn’t look cautious or timid. In a gold silk dress that matched her gorgeous eyes, she looked radiant. All because of Simon Burrows.
“Speaking of your fiancé, where is he?”
“Here I am.” A tall figure appeared at Penelope’s elbow. The couple stared at one another, both caught up in the moment. Simon’s wide shoulders and considerable height nearly overwhelmed Penelope’s petite frame.
They shouldn’t look good together, but they did.
At last, Simon turned his attention to Elizabeth. “Good evening, Miss St. James.”
“Good evening, Mr. Burrows.”
For the next few moments, they spoke of nothing more significant than the weather. Elizabeth was struck by Simon’s relaxed manner. The man came from an old New York Knickerbocker family. He was known for his rigidity and strict adherence to a moral code of behavior based on biblical precepts.
Elizabeth was suddenly very—very—glad she hadn’t confronted the gossips.
“I hope you don’t mind, Miss St. James, but I’m afraid we’ll have to continue this conversation another time. I was sent to fetch my fiancée.” The smile he gave Penelope was full of warmth. “Mother wishes to speak with you, something about scheduling a trip to the shore after our honeymoon.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” Penelope turned to Elizabeth, a question in her eyes. “You don’t mind if I desert you?”
“Not even a little.”
“We’ll talk later?”
Elizabeth would like nothing better. “You may count on it.”
The happy couple said their farewells.
The moment they were swallowed up in the crowd, Elizabeth decided to make her own escape from the maddening crush. She needed a temporary respite and knew exactly where to find it.
Decision made, she set out at a fast pace.
Five minutes later, Elizabeth slipped out of the house through one of the French doors thrown open to let in the crisp night air. A light breeze stirred a tendril of hair that had fallen loose from its pins. Gaze lowered, she moved quickly across the large tiered terrace, down the marble steps, and into the sunken gardens below.
Shrouded in the safety of the inky night, she looked up. At the same moment a clump of swift-moving clouds covered the moon. Elizabeth let the resulting blackness embrace her. She didn’t need to see to know where she was going. She’d played in these gardens as a child. With the house still in view, she leaned against an ivy-covered wall and released a deep sigh. She hated that she’d become the sighing sort.
Arms wrapped tightly around herself against the chill evening air, she whispered, “What if I didn’t return to the house? Would anyone notice I was gone?”
A deep, masculine chuckle sounded from the shadows. “Make no mistake, my dear. Your lovely presence would most definitely be missed.”
The husky baritone sent a spattering of nerves tripping down Elizabeth’s spine. She knew that voice, knew the owner. Lucian Griffin. Penelope’s older brother. He’d recently returned to America after living in London for three years.
A ripple of longing flowed through her before she ruthlessly shut down the sensation. Of all the people to come upon her, of course it would be him.
She shot away from the wall, the pounding of her heart loud in her ears. “Luke . . . I, I didn’t realize you were there.”
“Evidently.” Humor still sounded in his voice. And something else. Something she was too nervous to define.
Not sure whether this chance encounter was a good thing or a very, very bad turn of events, she attempted to slow the pounding of her heart, to no avail.
This is Luke, she told herself, Penelope’s older brother and one of your good friends.
“It wasn’t wise to come out here alone, Little Bit.”
Little Bit.
Only Luke called her by that name, and not for many, many years. She couldn’t imagine why he did so tonight.
Squinting past the dark, she could barely make out his form. He was maybe four feet to her left, possibly five. Not that it was necessary to see him. She knew his face by heart, knew every handsome plane and sharp angle.
She sighed again.
Penelope’s brother had been the cause of several girlish dreams in Elizabeth’s youth. Now, she stood alone with him in the black night.
“Any number of people could have come upon you,” he added. “Some with wicked intent.”
The brotherly concern was the final humiliation in a long, trying day. Elizabeth did something she’d never expect of herself. She took her frustration out on him.
“Yes, well, you really shouldn’t sneak up on people in the dark. It’s not very gentlemanly.”
“My apologies.” He didn’t sound sorry. Not in the least.
The dark outline of his tall, lean body sent a tremble through Elizabeth. She pressed back into the shadows, not from unease or fear but from irritation.
What was he doing skulking in the dark, anyway? He should be inside the house.
So should you.
With chilled, trembling fingers, she reached for the stone wall behind her, found a reassuring anchor when her palm pressed to the cool ivy branches.
“I believe I’ve had enough fresh air.” She cleared her throat and attempted to put confidence in her words. “I should return to the party.”
“Yes, you should.”
Her feet refused to cooperate.
How much worse could this evening get?
After a moment, Luke spoke again. “Has someone upset you?”
“No.”
She felt rather than saw him take a step closer. “Tell me what sent you running from the ballroom, Little Bit.”
“I didn’t run.”
“No?”
She lifted her chin at a haughty angle, desperately wishing she could read his expression yet overwhelmingly relieved he couldn’t read hers. “I walked quickly.”
His responding chuckle warmed her to her toes.
“My mistake. You weren’t running. You aren’t upset. You are merely taking some fresh air.”
He was laughing at her. She heard the amusement in his voice. Something inside her broke a little. There’d been too many secrets in the past three months and far too many times she’d pretended nothing was awry when matters were far from ideal. She couldn’t bring herself to continue evading the truth with Luke. He was her friend.
A friend who made her heart trip and wish for things that could never be.
“Perhaps I am upset,” she admitted in a small voice. “But only a very little.”
“Tell me what’s happened.” He spoke quietly now, his words pitched at a soothing octave.
On the surface, his concern was kindness itself, even heroic. But all Elizabeth could think was that Luke sounded far too much like an older brother.
She had wished for many things concerning Luke. She had never wished for him to be her brother.
“I”—she swallowed—“it’s just . . . Oh, Luke, it’s the gossip about Jackson and Caroline. They don’t deserve the censure.”
“No, they don’t.” As Jackson’s closest friend and staunchest ally, Luke knew the story, all of it, including the role Elizabeth’s mother had played.
It was a relief to speak with someone who knew the truth.
“The gossips don’t even have the facts straight.”
“Darling girl.” His voice flowed over her, soft and rich as velvet. “Gossips rarely care about the facts.”
“It’s not right.”
Luke reached out and took her hand. “No, it’s not.”
He pulled her a fraction closer.
Her breath caught, rendering her momentarily speechless. She marveled at the way she responded to a simple touch. She wore gloves, and so did he, yet she could feel Luke’s warmth seeping through her chilled fingers. He towered over her with six additional inches of height, yet she wasn’t the least intimidated.
This was Luke. Her friend’s brother. Perfectly harmless.
She pulled her hand free and, legs a bit wobbly, moved to a small wrought-iron bench next to a birdbath. She sat, taking great care settling her skirts around her legs.
Luke came to stand beside her. “While I’ll admit I hate hearing my friend’s character thrown into question, and that of his new bride, at least the gossip is not unkind about you. That’s worth a lot.”
Was it? Her good name had escaped any lasting damage, but at what cost?
Elizabeth balled her fists in her lap, then forced her fingers to relax. Hands shaking slightly, she smoothed her palms across her skirt once again. “It’s been nearly a month since their wedding. I don’t understand why they are still a favorite topic of discussion.”
Luke joined her on the bench and gave her one long look. Something almost tender moved in his eyes before it was gone.
Unable to resist, she leaned closer to him, just a fraction more, until their shoulders nearly, almost touched. “I can’t help feeling partly responsible that Jackson and Caroline are shunned from proper society.”
“You aren’t to blame.”
She wasn’t as confident as he. “If I’d had the courage to speak candidly with Jackson sooner, he and Caroline would not be the source of gossip.”
“That’s not entirely true.”
She opened her mouth to argue but shut it again as she remembered that Luke knew what had brought her cousin Caroline to New York.
She’d traveled from London seeking revenge on their mutual grandfather, believing he’d turned his back on her mother during her time of need because she’d fallen in love with someone beneath her station. The truth was so much uglier. Richard had been as much a victim as his daughter.
Elizabeth still couldn’t understand why her own mother had gone to such lengths to prevent Aunt Libby from coming home. “I never thought my mother capable of such treachery.”
“How could you have known? None of us did.”
“I can’t find it in my heart to forgive her.”
There was a long stretch of silence before Luke’s hand touched hers. “The wound is fresh. Give it time.”
Time wouldn’t change what her mother had done.
Elizabeth turned her head to say as much, but her breath caught in her throat. Every feature of Luke’s handsome face was thrown into stark relief. The pale moonlight defined the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones, the sweep of his upturned lips. Even his golden hair had taken on a silvery glow.
His concern for her was also clearly illuminated.
No. No, no. She would not be the object of this man’s sympathy. “Please don’t look at me that way.”
“How am I looking at you?”
“As if you feel sorry for me.”
“I don’t feel sorry for you.” His eyes met hers, unguarded and earnest. “Never think that.”
His sincerity seemed real.
Her stomach dipped in a very unsisterly manner. A ferocious blush burned across her face at the direction of her thoughts. The longer she stayed secluded in the darkened gardens with Luke, the more chance there was of exposure.
As if his thoughts had taken a similar journey, Luke gave her chin a light tap. “You, Miss St. James, must return to the house before your absence is noticed.”
He rose before she could respond, reached out his hand.
She placed her palm against his, the move as natural as breathing, and allowed him to pull her to her feet. He was so tall, so masculine. She wanted to rest in his strength a moment longer. Just one more moment.
“Have faith, Elizabeth.” Luke released her hand. “All will turn out as it should.”
His eyes were sincere as he spoke, unguarded, with not a hint of irony in his voice. Elizabeth wanted . . . She wanted . . .
What did it matter what she wanted?
In two months she would board a steamship heading to London. She would miss her family, her friends, and this man. Especially this man.
Luke attacked the world head-on, without reservation or timidity. He’d rebelled for a short time in his younger days. Elizabeth had heard the rumors. He’d fallen in with a wild crowd, but the names of his cohorts remained a mystery. Despite his scandalous past, Luke was considered quite a catch.
One small step.
Elizabeth pressed a light, trembling touch to Luke’s shoulder. The muscles beneath her hand bunched. “Thank you, Luke.”
“For . . . what?”
“For listening.”
He held her gaze, saying nothing.
Her pulse pounded in her ears, nearly deafening her with its roar. She took a miniscule step forward. In all her twenty years, she’d never been a party to something so . . . scandalous.
He didn’t seem to mind, proving he hadn’t reformed completely. The discovery made her blood charge through her veins. She took another step.
As if compelled by some invisible force, he moved forward as well. The gap between them all but disappeared. He leaned down and pressed his lips to her . . .
Forehead. Her forehead!
It was quite the brotherly show of affection. One more insult to add to all the others she’d endured this day.
She caught her sigh before it embarrassed her. The entire situation was utterly hopeless. Elizabeth didn’t doubt Luke liked her. They’d known one another for years, since she’d been a child and he a bold, brassy youth testing the boundaries of propriety as only a male child in their world could. He wasn’t a young boy anymore.
She wasn’t a young girl, either. But to him she was still his Little Bit.
Even if she could get him to see her as a grown woman, Luke deserved someone who knew her own mind, who didn’t allow others to dictate her future.
Elizabeth was not that woman. Not yet.
Chapter Three
Luke was well aware he stood entirely too close to Elizabeth. He couldn’t find the incentive to create a polite distance between them. Cloaked in shadows dusted with silvery moonlight, she had an ethereal, vulnerable quality that called to his protective nature.
Elizabeth was one of the few people who’d accepted Penelope without judgment. Her kindness during his sister’s most trying years had earned her a permanent place in his heart.
Lately, however, his affection had morphed into something charged with tension and awkward pauses.
The shift had started almost immediately upon his return from a three-year residency in London. The moment he’d laid eyes on her, at another party thrown in this house, Elizabeth had thrown him off balance.
He was still trying to catch his breath.
She’d always been a pretty girl. But she’d become a beautiful woman with pale-blonde hair and blue, blue eyes framed by long, spiky black lashes. Her eyebrows were two shades darker than her hair. The startling contrast was eye-catching, mesmerizing.
For a moment, he wanted to bask in her goodness. A precarious prospect, loaded with hazards. Luke could harm Elizabeth simply by being caught with her in the dark.
There, at last, was the motivation he needed to step away from her. “I bid you a good night, Elizabeth.”
He turned to go, paused when she whispered his name.
“Please don’t leave.” A rustle of silk and a faint touch to his arm accompanied the request. “Not yet.”
“It isn’t wise for me to stay.”
“Please.”
Elizabeth’s fresh scent of lilacs and soap overwhelmed the other aromas of the garden, luring Luke to abandon his good sense. But it was the soft plea that had him spinning back around.
At the sight of her delicate frown, everything in him softened. The gossip about her cousin had put her in a vulnerable state, making her easy pickings. If some other man came upon her . . .
The possibility made him grind his teeth.
Luke closed the short distance between them, kno
wing he was as much a threat as any other man and simply not caring. But then, as his wits returned, he cared very much. Elizabeth’s sterling reputation would take a hit if they were seen together, alone in the dark. All it would take was one person watching.
Someone was always watching.
“Go back inside, Little Bit.”
She winced. He’d insulted her with the use of the childhood nickname. It couldn’t be helped.
Luke made yet another attempt to get rid of her. “Since you refuse to think of your reputation, I will have to do so myself. Good evening.” He gave her a curt nod of dismissal and once again turned to leave.
Once again, her voice stopped him.
“Luke.” She reached for his sleeve with the barest whisper of a touch. “May I make a confession before you go?”
An innocent woman should not sound so sultry. She should not look so attractive. The way she’d secured her hair in a tumble of curls around her face displayed her arresting features in startling detail.
Leave her, Luke.
“If you must confess to someone, it might as well be me.” He’d keep whatever secret she wished to share.
“I am wearing last season’s gown.” She sounded very pleased with herself, as if she’d just declared she’d mastered a complicated piano concerto.
Which meant, very likely, she was trying to tell him something significant. “I’m not sure I understand.”
Elizabeth nibbled her lower lip, looking very adorable and utterly tempting. He secured his gaze at a spot above her head.
“My mother always said a young woman of quality should never be seen in last season’s gown.”
Ah. “I see.”
“Do you? Do you, really?”
“I do.” Perhaps a bit too much. Luke knew what it felt like to miss the mark in a parent’s eyes, to always fall short no matter how hard he tried to win approval, then to do the opposite because a grievous slipup was treated the same as missing the mark by a hair. “You wore the dress to challenge your mother’s ridiculous guidelines for proper behavior.”
She beamed at him. “Precisely.”
Wearing last year’s gown was relatively tame, as disobedience went. Still, Luke knew better than most that Elizabeth was entering perilous ground. A small act of defiance led to another. And then another, until one’s good character was thrown into question and innocence was gone forever.
