And now she was lying to herself, because she was sorely tempted. Hal had reawakened a part of the girl she had been. The effervescent, witty, social young woman who enjoyed laughing and had wanted to marry her prince, then live happily ever after. Worse still, her hardened, shredded, battered heart was beating again, except it had chosen to beat for another man like Rainham. Infinitely more handsome and charming. Undoubtedly more noble, but still very, very dangerous. Twelfth Night really could not come soon enough.
* * *
After a fitful night’s sleep, Lizzie arrived to breakfast deliberately late only to find the dining room filled with people, including a very dashing-looking Hal. The moment he spotted her he waved, a look of panic on his face, and numerous young ladies sat around him in the most predatory fashion. ‘There you are, Lizzie darling! I saved you a seat.’ He patted the chair next to him and she realised, in that instant, any chance of a restorative solitary walk had just flown out of the window. As he had feared, poor Hal was at the mercy of his baying hordes. This morning she would be his personal bodyguard, although pasting a lovestruck expression on her face did not prove to be as difficult as it usually did. Nor did looking jealous. She pierced Lady Arabella with such a fearsome glare that the younger woman blushed and her fingers flapped nervously at the lacy fichu she was clearly not used to wearing.
The seat Hal had managed to save was far too close to him. The baying hordes had barely left her enough space to wriggle into and, once seated, Lizzie’s hip was pressed intimately against his.
‘Did you sleep well?’
‘Like a log.’ She hoped the dark circles under her eyes were not too evident. ‘You?’
‘Surprisingly soundly.’ His voice dipped to a whisper which warmed her neck. ‘I barricaded the door with the dressing table.’
‘Very wise.’
‘You missed the show this morning. Lord Hewitt turned quite an impressive shade of crimson when he collided with Lady Arabella.’ Perhaps that explained the fichu and the flush, yet the girl was obviously intent on still stalking Hal, as she brazenly interrupted their hushed conversation by calling across the table.
‘A few of us are going riding, Lord Redbridge, and would be delighted if you would accompany us.’ Talons back in place, she shot Lizzie a look which told her that she was most assuredly not invited.
‘Lord Redbridge is otherwise engaged this morning.’ Lizzie smiled tightly and took a sip of the tea which had just been placed in front of her.
‘Oh, really? Doing what? Because if it is more interesting than riding then perhaps I could join you?’
‘We are going into the village to shop for ribbons.’
She felt Hal instantly stiffen at the suggestion and hoped, for both their sakes, that ribbon shopping was a poor alternative to all the entertainments on the Danbury estate. There was a beat of silence, then Lady Arabella beamed. ‘Perfect. I need new ribbons and I dare say you and the Earl of Redbridge are desirous of a chaperon.’
‘We already have a chaperon. The Earl’s sister is accompanying us and...’ Surely there must be something dreadfully dull and unappealing she could think of to dislodge the barnacle-like Lady Arabella, although Lizzie’s mind had gone quite blank. Then it came to her. ‘And I have arranged to meet Lord Hewitt in the hall. Did I mention he was accompanying us as well?’
* * *
Despite the fact Hal had to walk to the village for the sake of authenticity, dragging his delighted sister and less delighted brother-in-law along, too, he had a thoroughly pleasant morning. His sister monopolised Lizzie all the way there and back, leaving him to chat to Aaron as they trailed in their wake and, aside from the distinct lack of baying hordes, it was nice to see her getting on well with his family. Especially Connie. His sister had never suffered fools gladly and her good opinion mattered to him more than anyone else’s. Not that he wanted her good opinion in this case, of course, but it comforted him none the less to know that he had it.
* * *
The afternoon wafted by without incident, although he had scarcely had two minutes alone with Lizzie all day. Largely because Aaron had decided to attach himself like a leech in case Hal succeeded in stealing another kiss from her. Even the outrageous stories he kept telling about Hal’s exploits, all sadly true, were directly intended to ward her off and the poor fellow was getting increasingly frustrated by her cheerful, laughing acceptance of it all.
‘Surely you have heard about Hal’s scandalous exhibition at the Serpentine, Lady Elizabeth?’
‘My father mentioned something, but I must confess I have no idea what occurred.’
‘I am not sure we need to discuss that, Aaron, darling. Not when I am still furious at you for your part in it.’ Connie’s voice dripped venom which her irascible husband ignored.
‘It was a warm summer’s day and we decided to have a race. A lap of vigorous swimming around the lake and then a sprint to Hyde Park Corner.’
‘Aaron dearest, do you want to sleep in Lady Danbury’s stable tonight? Because if you do, you are going the right way about it.’
Undeterred and encouraged by Lizzie’s obvious interest, Aaron took her arm. ‘We found a secluded end of the Serpentine and stripped down to our drawers...’
‘Aaron James Wincanton, this is hardly a proper conversation for a pleasant walk in the countryside.’
‘Oh, let him have his fun, Connie.’ Hal took his sister’s arm, grinning cheerfully. ‘The incident is hardly a secret.’ At least a hundred people had witnessed it and it had made the papers and, more importantly, poor Aaron had no idea it would not make the slightest bit of difference to his alliance with Lizzie.
Aaron went on to recall, in great detail, how when they had concluded their neck-and-neck swim around the enormous lake and then heaved themselves out of the water to dress, ready for the gruelling next leg of the race, they had discovered that all their clothes had been stolen. Like the gentleman he was, Aaron had hidden in the bushes to spare the blushes of the many people in the park. Hal, on the other hand, had refused to concede and had sprinted across the grass in his soggy drawers and claimed victory.
‘You ran from the Serpentine to Hyde Park Corner in just your underthings?’ Lizzie stared at him dumbfounded. ‘Hal, you really are incorrigible.’
‘But that is not the best of it, Lady Elizabeth.’
‘It gets worse?’
Aaron paused for effect. ‘The water had rendered his drawers transparent. Everybody who saw him fly past could see his unmentionables!’
Lizzie giggled and Aaron’s face fell. ‘As shocking as the incident was, it made him a great deal more popular with the ladies... Oomph!’
His sister’s elbow rammed into her husband’s ribs with some force. ‘It is not too late to have our marriage annulled. Husband.’
‘Blissful marriage, my dear. You keep missing out the word blissful.’
They arrived back at the Danbury residence just as the sun was beginning to set. Lizzie was more relaxed and contented than he had ever seen her. His sister, on the other hand, appeared ready to skewer her husband. To that end, Connie had practically dragged Aaron upstairs to ‘dress for dinner’, a euphemism for ‘I am going to give you a sound tongue lashing’, if ever there was one, and at last Hal had her to himself for the first time that day.
‘Ribbon shopping? That was the best deterrent you could come up with?’
She slanted a cheeky smile up at him and something peculiar happened in the vicinity of his heart. It felt like a twang. As if some imaginary string had been plucked. ‘I saved you from Lady Arabella, didn’t I?’
‘I cannot fathom why she is being so persistent.’
‘You are an earl with a reasonably good face.’
‘A good face? Am I starting to grow on you, Lizzie, darling?’
‘I’m afraid your scandalo
us behaviour at the Serpentine has quite put me off.’
‘You wouldn’t be saying that if you had seen me. I look quite spectacular in my birthday suit.’ Flirting was second nature to him, but flirting with her was dangerous. Probably best avoided. ‘Come upstairs and I’ll show you.’ His voice instinctively deepened and what was meant as a naughty retort intended to shock and make her giggle sounded a lot like an invitation. His long-lost but recently found vigour was urging him on, as was his heart. ‘My bedchamber is the third room to the left as you go into the west wing should you feel the urge to visit me in the night. Shall I leave the dressing table in its correct place—just in case?’
‘You are shameless.’ But she was still smiling and that twanging happened again, accompanied by his suddenly racing heart as she lent closer. Desire had never felt quite so...personal before. ‘I certainly hope somebody is within earshot to hear all this outrageous flirting. I would hate for your efforts to be wasted.’
The easy smile Hal gave her was false and not easy to achieve. She assumed he was acting, as per the terms of their agreement, when he hadn’t meant to be at all. Forgetting the remaining two berries, he wanted to kiss her. Badly. Kiss her until they were both senseless and then carry her to his bed. Make love to her, then talk to her all night...
Talking? Good grief! The sudden and visceral need to know her on a deeper level was unsettling.
A footman went past, carrying steaming cups of wassail, and Hal grabbed some to stop himself from touching her. She sipped hers slowly and gazed around the room. ‘Lord Hewitt has not so much as looked at me all day, so I hope he has decided I am no longer potential marriage material—however, he has been casting longing glances in Lady Arabella’s direction, although she still looks at you.’
Was she? Hal hadn’t noticed. He was developing a worrying habit of not noticing anything but Lizzie whenever he was with her. ‘Poor Lord Hewitt. I am inclined to feel sorry for him. To covet something you cannot have is torture.’ Never were truer words spoken. Her lack of reciprocal romantic interest in him was painful.
‘I cannot bring myself to feel sorry for him at all. Although I am encouraged to see my father has avoided him, too, so clearly the bloom is off that rose. Dear Papa has also, thus far at least, avoided trying to foist any new dullards on me.’
‘Your father strikes me a good man, Lizzie. However, I fail to understand why he believes you would be happy with a fellow like Hewitt.’ The more he considered it, the more improbable it all was. Lizzie was beautiful, intelligent and positively ripe for the picking. Why was Upminster determined to sell her so short when any man would be over the moon to have her?
‘After so many years sitting happily on the shelf, my father despairs of me. I believe he is now getting quite desperate as the calibre of gentleman he parades under my nose has significantly declined. He has given up hope of my snaring a prince or a duke. Now we are trawling the depths of the lesser peers and sirs. Although even by those standards, Lord Hewitt was a dud.’
Hal had skilfully manoeuvred them to a quiet alcove to watch the proceedings from a distance, and—if he was being brutally honest with himself—so he could have her all to himself for a little while longer.
‘Talking of duds, I see Ockendon has just arrived.’
To begin with, she merely stiffened, but then colour quickly drained out of her face. The cup of wassail tilted, spilled and Hal instinctively took it from her as he followed her gaze. But it was not Ockendon who had caused the odd reaction. It was his companion. Another man Hal could not place. Whoever the fellow was, Lady Danbury did not look at all pleased to see him, because she was smiling tightly as a hovering footman took his coat. A smile so brittle it appeared likely to shatter at any moment.
‘Do you know him?’
Lizzie stood like a marble statue, frozen on the spot for several seconds, her gaze never leaving the latecomer. When Ockendon began to lead his companion into the room, she backed further into the alcove, clearly distressed.
‘Lizzie! What is the matter?’
Only then did she look up at him, those cornflower eyes swimming with frightened tears. ‘I have to go!’ Quick as a flash, she spun around and stumbled towards the French doors. Before Hal could deposit the two cups on a table to reach for her, she had wrestled open the handle and bolted out into the dark garden beyond. It was so unexpected, so out of character, her reaction made him panic, too. Something was very wrong.
Chapter Eleven
A quick glance around the secluded alcove told him nobody had noticed her frantic escape and Hal knew she would hate to be the cause of a scene, so on stealthy feet he followed her outside and quietly closed the door behind him. There was no sign of her on the terrace and, because it was close to freezing outside, no lights had been lit in the garden. Obviously, the Danburys had assumed nobody would be mad enough to go outside.
‘Lizzie?’ Although barely above a whisper, his voice sounded loud in the silence. She did not answer, forcing Hal to strain his ears for sounds of movement. There were none. The silhouetted shapes of clipped bushes and trees were shrouded in mist as he plunged into the garden.
Ten minutes later and his fingers were frozen and his stomach was in knots. He had kept a close eye back on the house and he was certain she had not returned there, and without a coat or shawl she must be chilled to the bone. The further into the grounds he walked, the less the pale crescent moon illuminated his surroundings; looking for Lizzie in this was like searching for a needle in a haystack. Hal doubled back, skirting around the edge of the lawn towards the stables to fetch a lantern and wanted to cheer in relief when he spied her, sat all alone and hunched on a bench.
His feet crunched on the frosty grass as he hurried towards her, alerting her to his presence. She looked up, her lovely face totally wretched, and visibly sagged when she saw it was him rather than someone else. She had been crying. Her face was wan and drawn, her eyes and nose slightly swollen. Her slim shoulders still trembled and her fingers were twisting a crumpled handkerchief nervously. Wordlessly, Hal sat down and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer beneath his coat to share the heat from his body. She didn’t pull away. Instead she burrowed into the crook of his neck gratefully.
‘I’ve been worried sick.’
‘I’m sorry. Seeing him after all these years gave me quite a start.’ Despite their close and intimate position, she was staring out into nothingness. The old, guarded expression painted on to her pale face. Pretending all was well when it clearly wasn’t.
‘Seeing who?’ Whoever he was, Ockendon’s companion was at the root of all this.
‘The Marquess of Rainham... We were engaged...once upon a time.’
‘Ah.’ Recognition dawned at the same moment intense jealousy sliced through him and left a bitter, unfamiliar taste in his mouth. The Rainham Hal remembered had been a handsome fellow who enjoyed his pleasures. The years had not been kind. The man with Ockendon had the pallor of a man who lived hard. Imagining her shackled to a wastrel like Rainham made the bile rise in his throat. ‘You had a lucky escape all those years ago, I think.’
‘I thought so...’ Her voice trailed off and she stared mournfully at the twisted handkerchief in her lap. ‘But now he is back.’ Her voice caught and she covered her face with her hands, burrowing closer into his chest as fresh sobs racked her body.
Instantly protective and desperate to ease her pain, Hal smoothed his hands over her back and hair. The bitter taste of jealousy made him frown involuntarily and he was glad she could not see his face. ‘You loved him?’
‘At the time I did. I was head over heels in love with him. Charles was as charming as he was handsome.’ And Hal hated him with a passion. He sincerely doubted he had ever hated anyone more than he did that man at that moment. Even the loathing he had for his own father paled in comparison to this new and potentially viole
nt hatred which burned inside. ‘Everyone warned me he was trouble, but I was too besotted to listen to them.’
‘But you came to your senses.’ At least he hoped she had. If she still carried a torch for the man Hal might have to commit murder. ‘Do you still...love him?’ His hands ached to clench into fists while he waited for her answer, fists he would enjoy pummelling in to Rainham’s unworthy, pale face.
He felt her head shake against his throat. ‘I loathe him. And I loathe myself more for my foolishness all those years ago. I hate how trusting and besotted I was right to the last minute.’
Hal let out the tense breath he had been holding unconsciously, thankful that her feelings for her former fiancé were dead and buried. ‘We all make mistakes, Lizzie. Thank goodness you realised he was no good and terminated your engagement, even if it was at the very last minute.’
She stiffened in his arms and he swore he felt her inwardly go to war with herself. On a ragged sigh, she eventually laughed with no humour whatsoever. A bitter, harsh sound which was difficult to hear and filled with raw pain. ‘I didn’t terminate the engagement.’ She sat up straight, pulled away from him, her eyes downcast. Guarded. Then she huffed out a sigh which sounded like defeat. ‘You might as well know the truth... That day... I was actually at the church. In the vestry. Waiting for him...like the silliest and most trusting of fools.’ The next noise was a cross between a laugh and a sob. ‘But my devoted fiancé...he never bothered turning up.’
* * *
Her words took a few moments to sink in, she could tell. When they did he sounded incredulous. ‘You were jilted?’
Lizzie shrugged and stared off into space, knowing he would see the truth if she dared to look in those intelligent green eyes. Thanks to her blind panic and foolhardy decision to run, he would be able to piece together a great deal. It was obvious there was unfinished business between her and the Marquess of Rainham. Obvious her foolish heart had been shredded into tiny pieces. The very last thing she ever wanted anyone to see her as was an object of pity. Least of all Hal, when he saw her as someone else. Someone courageous and bold and pithy and fun. She should have stayed. She knew that now. Stood proudly. Looked the scoundrel dead in the eye and feigned uninterest at seeing him again.
His Mistletoe Wager Page 12
