“Do you still desire to wed her?”
Lord Wolton stopped pacing and an evil grimace appeared on his molted face. “Oh, yes, Follett. Your little girl will be my bride, and taught a lesson she will never forget. Not that she’ll live very long to repent of her waywardness.”
A shiver overtook Lord Follett. It wasn’t because the house was cold.
~*~
Lord Westcombe attended luncheons, danced at balls, and went to routes and recitals, all in an effort to glean information on Lord Follett and Lord Wolton. He was becoming increasingly frustrated at how little he was able to uncover. Finally, he decided enough was enough. His sister was well established but nowhere close to selecting one of the men who flocked around her like bees to honey. It was time to head to Rose Hill. It had been a week. For some odd reason, he needed to see for himself that Beth, Miss Follett, was truly doing well.
At least, that’s the lie he told himself.
~*~
Somehow, Lizzy found herself with a makeshift wardrobe manufactured out of older clothes from Lord Remington’s sister’s wardrobe. She never looked quite so fashionable even if the fashions were a season out of date. Anxiety made it difficult to sleep, much less keep herself gainfully occupied during the day. She took the dogs for walks in the garden with Duke. She sewed and listened to Lady Remington dream about the babe growing inside her. She wondered where Lord Phillip was. In spite of what little she knew of him, she longed to see him again. Even her nightmares were replaced with dangerous fantasies regarding her rescuer. The country air definitely held restorative powers.
~*~
Lord Phillip arrived at Rose Hill to find the household asleep. Having spent many years visiting Marcus’ home, he was able to gain entrance to the house and stirred the fireplace in the library to warm up by the hearth. He relaxed with a glass of brandy after his long journey. He was surprised when Elizabeth entered the room. She wore a nightgown covered with an opaque robe. Her beauty and fragility were accented by her hair unbound and flowing like a soft red flame around her shoulders to her waist. Her green eyes sought his and he grinned at her. He surely must be dreaming. “Miss Elizabeth, I hope I find you well.”
She didn’t answer, only stared at him.
Phillip scanned her from head to toe. She was relatively tall and the top of her head came to his nose. It was rare to find a woman he didn’t tower over. He set his now empty glass on the mantel behind him and waited for what she would do next.
She never spoke.
The sway of her hips and her elegant toes peeking from underneath the gown taunted him. Elizabeth stopped directly in front of him, closer than the distance he would have held her during a waltz. Her sweet scent clouded his senses. Or perhaps it was the brandy. Or wishful thinking.
Something was amiss. Elizabeth reached up with her right arm and caressed his hair. Her fingers traced the line of his jaw before her hand moved to the back of his head and her other arm came up over his shoulder. Before he realized it, she pulled his face towards hers—and kissed him.
Soft lips urged his eyes to close and he wrapped his arms around her. Surely, this was a dream. He’d known women in the past, but here was a sweet innocence and passion he’d never experienced before. He was no innocent himself but something inside him claimed that when it came to this woman, he was. He grew lost in the sensation of her in his arms. His fingers savored the silken strands of her hair. Time stood still as they were lost in this impassioned embrace. A line from Shakespeare’s play, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, taunted him in this madness.
If we shadows have offended,
think but this and all is mended,
that you have but slumber’d here,
while these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream.
A throat cleared, breaking the spell, for surely that must be what it was.
Phillip reluctantly broke away from the kiss and looked past Elizabeth to discover Marcus standing in the doorway with a scowl on his face. Phillip gulped as he realized the source of his friend’s anger. He’d been caught taking advantage of a young woman under Lord Remington’s protection. Protection Phillip sought for her. He was trapped.
“I assume tomorrow you will return to London to procure a Special License.” His friend’s voice brooked no argument.
Phillip nodded and weakly pushed Elizabeth away from his body, yet her arms held fast. “Miss Follett, you must let go,” he whispered urgently to her. He reached up to grab both of her arms still wrapped around his neck and yet, she said nothing. She looked at him and smiled sweetly as he returned her arms to her sides and stepped away from her.
Elizabeth stared at him for a moment with a soft smile playing on her well-kissed lips. Silently she turned and walked past Marcus without any hint of awareness of his presence.
“I’m well and truly caught, aren’t I?” Phillip groaned.
Marcus’ grim expression continued as he nodded and turned to leave. He stopped. “Your usual room is ready for you.”
Phillip bent his head. He’d just spent a day on the road and now, due to one moment of indiscriminate passion, he’d be heading back to London. His single days were over. The noose tightened around his neck. He reached up to undo his cravat. When that didn’t help, he poured another brandy and took it with him to his room. In the old days it would have been the entire bottle.
~*~
The sun teased through a gap in the drapes, falling across Lizzy’s bed. She stretched and smiled. She’d had the most wonderful dream. Reluctantly she rose to face reality. Her dreams could never come true. It was pure folly to think about Lord Phillip as she had in her sleep.
The maid brought in fresh water and a cup of hot chocolate.
Soon Lizzy was gowned, coiffed and ready to join her hosts in the breakfast parlour. As she opened the door to leave, she discovered Josie there, hand raised to knock.
“I need to speak with you, Elizabeth.” Josie entered, shooed the maid out, and closed the door firmly behind her. She motioned Elizabeth to the sitting room.
“Is something the matter?”
Josie frowned. “Can you tell me what happened last night?”
“When? After dinner when I left you to come to my room?”
Her hostess nodded.
“I came here and Elsa helped me ready for bed. I was exhausted, went to bed and slept better than I have in weeks.”
“And…”
“And what? I enjoyed wonderful dreams and awoke to sunshine.”
“You don’t remember anything else?”
“Why should I? Did something happen last night?” She bit her lip. Would they blame her for something she hadn’t done? Would she be cast out?
“Yes. Marcus came upon you kissing Lord Westcombe in the library.”
“Lord Westcombe arrived last night? I didn’t know. As if he would ever dally with me. And how could he? I spent the night asleep in my bed.”
“Aware or not, my husband walked in on the two of you locked in a passionate embrace.”
Elizabeth’s eyes grew wide and her hand went to cover her mouth. “So…it wasn’t a dream.” Lizzy rose to pace. “When I was younger I used to sleepwalk. I wasn’t aware I still did that. If I came upon Phillip and kissed him, it was not done intentionally.” Heat rose to her cheeks. “I must apologize.”
“It’ll have to wait. Phillip has already left to procure a Special License. In three days, we will have the minister come and you will wed here in the chapel.”
Lizzy dropped back into the chair. “You cannot be serious. He does not want me or love me. I’m in no way appropriate for a man such as him.”
Josie rose. “You may have initiated the contact, but Phillip did nothing to avoid you or to stop it. He understands his duty to a woman of noble birth whom he has compromised.”
“My reputation is of no account and no one of our acquaintance need ever know of this. I will not marry
the man.”
“I wonder if you really mean that, Elizabeth.” Josie’s head tipped to one side.
“Excuse me?”
“Why would you select Phillip out of a crowded ballroom when other men were available to approach for assistance? Why would you, even in your sleep, kiss him if he were not the object of your heart’s desire?”
“Desire does not equal love,” Lizzy protested. “He must despise me. This is not a good way to start a marriage.” She looked up at Josie. “What did you tell him about my past?”
“Not much. You’ll have the pleasure of filling him in on the details.”
Lizzy began to weep. This couldn’t be happening. Arms wrapped around her, holding her.
“Shhhhh! Many marriages start out far worse than this and survive. There is no reason why yours couldn’t grow to be a grand love match. This also resolves the dilemma of what to do to protect you from Lord Wolton. Your father cannot force you to marry one man when wed to another. Phillip is more than capable of defending what is his.”
“So, I’m to wed in three days?” Lizzy hiccupped.
“Yes.”
“Then I suppose I need to figure out how to look my best when he returns. I don’t want him to regret this marriage.” She wiped away the tears with her hands.
“That’s the spirit. You will be the most beautiful bride and Phillip will wonder why he had never stumbled upon this solution from the start.”
“I hope you are correct.”
“I pray God will make this right somehow. He specializes in the impossible.”
“I’ve not seen proof of that yet.”
“That’s because you haven’t been looking.” Josie rose and accompanied Lizzy to breakfast.
~*~
Phillip spent his journey back to London on horseback, contemplating his fate. She’d tricked him and he’d fallen straight into her trap. Those beguiling eyes, that soft hair…were enough to turn any man’s head. So why had he succumbed in that moment? He really couldn’t blame his fatigue or the alcohol. It would take far more than that small glass of brandy to dull his senses. It had been years since he’d been in his cups. He didn’t like losing control over his life and too much drink did that to a man. Blithering idiot! He spurred his horse on.
Marcus didn’t need to force the issue. How was he to face his noble friend when he returned? Shame washed over him in waves. He knew better than to be caught near a woman like that alone. Unless he were married. Well, he would soon be that way. Heaven help him if he let Miss Follett’s womanly wiles captivate him again. She’d obviously planned this from the start. He’d fallen hard and fast, teased along by a sad story and a desire to help. Perhaps to prove he wasn’t the wastrel his family thought he was.
Oh, like this would improve his reputation? A hasty marriage in the country by Special License to a woman who disappeared at his sister’s come-out ball? A woman wanted by Lord Wolton for a wife. She’d be safer with Phillip, at least he could provide her sanctuary. He sighed as he came to the livery stable in the next town. Time to change horses.
Refreshing himself with a meal, he was soon back on the road with his own horse that’d he’d left there only yesterday. When he returned to Rose Hill it would be with his carriage. Once wed, he’d spirit his wife off to his estate until the scandal in London died down. He’d provide the conniving beauty with a home and safety. He could not promise her more. The love he witnessed between Marcus and Josie would never be his to enjoy.
His memory of the previous night flooded his senses. She’d been soft in his arms. Why had he been so weak? Had it been too long since he’d been with a woman? He couldn’t justify the expense. Well, now he’d be paying the piper, for sure. Women cost money, and even more so when they were a wife. At least she had an inheritance. Perhaps she could purchase her own trinkets and folderols with that. Once wed the money became his. If he allowed her access to those funds she wouldn’t drain his own. He grinned and nodded to himself, satisfied at one solution to a problem.
But he’d have a wife cutting up his peace for the rest of his life.
He’d be safe from the fortune-hunting debutantes. He suddenly felt older than his years. Some of those young girls were barely out of the schoolroom. At least Beth was of an age. Not too much younger than himself. Obviously, she’d honed her wiles though or he wouldn’t have been caught.
Resign yourself. It’s over. His days of living only to please himself were through. The future stretched ahead with a heavy weight of doom. Where was this God that Marcus so often talked about? Certainly not interested in the life or desires of Phillip Westcombe.
Desire. He gave a wolfish grin. Well, at least that would be one positive thing. He could slake his desires whenever he wanted. She’d come to him willingly enough. She was beautiful. Her kisses stirred to life something foreign within him. Something beyond lust that he didn’t understand. She was his for the taking. He’d only have to guard his heart lest she steal that too.
He arrived at his room to discover his valet gone. And why wouldn’t he be? Phillip told him he would be gone a few days. He left a note for the man for when he returned. Likely out enjoying his own comforts for a change. Fenway would commence packing for an extended stay in the country and they would leave in the morning after Phillip finished business at Doctor’s Commons.
Collapsing into bed it hit him that from now on, if he wanted, he’d be sharing his bed with his wife. Wife. Daunting word. He’d have to give up his rooms here and purchase a house when he came to town next. There was no way he’d stay with his parents.
He rolled to his side. The Earl of Manchester was bound to be cross over this when he read it in the paper. He’d need to write to his mother to smooth things over. That would wait until after the deed was done. He’d send a letter at the same time as a notice to the papers of the marriage having taken place. He’d be setting the fox amongst the henhouse with that one action.
Fleeing to his estate would definitely be the best course of action. Regardless of how she had tricked him, he would not subject his wife to the sharp tongues of the beau monde. Eventually, they would be forced to come to town and face society together. He drifted into an uneasy sleep as dreams of Miss Follett teased and tantalized him. A noose hovered overhead as she led him there, pulling the lever to release the floor beneath him. The cord drew tight as his feet dangled and he gasped for breath.
5
Phillip awoke gasping for air. It was early but there was much to be done. He rang for Fenway, who stumbled into the room worse for wear after a night of debauchery.
“Did you get my message?” Phillip asked.
The valet frowned. “Carriage to Rose Hill and pack all your bags. You’re giving up your rooms here?”
“Yes. I’ll tell you more when we arrive at Rose Hill. From there we will be traveling to Stanton Hall for an extended stay. I have a few errands to run this morning and I’ll be leaving on horseback. I expect to see you at Rose Hill by evening. Lay out my brown jacket and tan breeches for today and my riding boots.”
“Yes, m’lord.” The valet stumbled to the closet to assemble the wardrobe. Phillip rose and decided it was best to shave himself this morning given his valet’s reduced competencies. He didn’t trust the man with a knife to his throat.
Soon he was on his way out the door. Few people of the upper class milled around the streets of town at this early hour so he managed to procure his Special License without being accosted by anyone. He stopped to purchase a ring he thought suited his new bride-to-be. Returning to his rooms he found Fenway had departed. He made one last stop at his solicitor to draw up a new will and make arrangement for his wife’s funds to be preserved in her control. His solicitor was a discreet man but an eyebrow raised at his demands.
“Mr. Hollenback, find me a house I can purchase here in town. With my upcoming marriage, I will need a suitable place to live.”
“Yes, m’lord. May I inquire as to when this marriage is to take place?”<
br />
Phillip growled. “No. You may not. You can read about it in the papers with everyone else. I will send you a letter with my bride’s name and information after the deed is done.”
“Something havey-cavey about this, m’lord?”
“Not at all,” Phillip asserted. “A love match, if you will.” He stared at the man till the solicitor bowed and scraped away.
“Yes, m’lord.”
“And not a word to anyone until it is in the papers. No one. Not even your partner.” Phillip’s eyes narrowed.
“Of course, m’lord. It shall be as you say.”
“Very well. Carry on.” Phillip turned and left, a small smile playing on his lips as he sought his horse. He had no doubt that before the news hit the papers rumors would be swirling about his marriage. By then the deed would be done. While he could have avoided all that by having his solicitor attend him at Stanton Hall, he did not want to leave his new bride unprotected. Life in this world was uncertain. There were never any guarantees. If he was to be wed, unwanted or not, he would do what was right by his wife.
A shiver overtook him. He glanced around the streets and mews, but seeing no one he shook his head and entered. Once his horse was ready, he mounted and they were on the road, and within a few hours overtook Fenway with the carriage. With a tip of his hat to his valet and coachman, he passed them and urged his horse onto Rose Hill.
He stopped in Didcot, the town just shy of Rose Hill and took a late repast. He wanted to avoid conversation with Marcus or Josie, much less his bride. His carriage passed and he waited an hour, nursing an ale, before heading on.
Marcus greeted him when he arrived and drew him into his study. “Good to see you, Phillip. I admit to some worry when your carriage showed up without you.”
“Stopped for dinner at a pub.”
“Cold feet?”
Phillip shrugged. “I’ll do my duty, never fear that.”
“I have some news that might make tomorrow easier to bear.”
Lord Phillip's Folly Page 5
