Stephen pushed his drink aside and smiled. So Roderick knew. "Thanks for everything. And wish me luck."
"Now, poppet, you must see I did what I thought was right."
As the Shelby carriage rolled toward the Duke of Elbourne's townhouse, Elizabeth avoided her father's worried gaze and stared at the lampposts gracing the cobblestone streets.
"I am not speaking to you, Papa."
"Lord Stephen Clearbrook is a good man, Lizzie. I never would have wed you to anyone who was not worthy of your love."
"Love?" She let out a pitiful laugh. "I fell in love with a handsome lord. Is that what you planned? To have your daughter's heart broken? To have the man love someone else?"
Her father bristled. "Someone else?" She refused to answer. "You tell me now, Elizabeth. I thought you were jesting before. No daughter of mine will marry a man who loves another."
"Like you did." She regretted the words as soon as she said them. Her father sat in silence. "Papa, I did not mean that"
"Fair is fair, Lizzie. I ain't saying I was perfect. I was not fair to your mother. She deserved better."
Elizabeth fought the lump in her throat. "Did you love Mama?"
He looked out the window and sighed. "I loved her, Lizzie. But not enough. Ah, here we are." He turned and patted her knee. "Everything will be fine, my dear, just trust me. By the way, did I tell you I like your hair that way? Does something for your eyes, you know."
Stephen eyed his mother warily as she closed the library doors and told him to take a seat on the sofa.
"Pray tell me, my dear mother, why do I have the grand pleasure of your company tonight instead of Bringston? I thought your new husband had returned to London today."
The lady blushed. His new stepfather had made his mother feel young again, and if she was happy that was all that counted.
"You oaf!"
Stephen's head snapped to attention. "Beg your pardon?"
The lady stabbed her finger in the air and Stephen would have laughed if she weren't pointing it at him. "You take that girl into your arms and declare yourself or else."
His lips fell into a crooked grin. "You love her, too."
His mother's face instantly softened. "Of course I do."
"Well, then. At least I have you on my side."
His mother looked up expectantly. "What can I do?"
"Can you make certain I have Elizabeth alone?"
Two violet blue eyes lit up with delight. "My dear, you may think me a delicate woman, but when it comes time to enter into battle, I am always ready." She raised a right brow as Roderick did when he was planning something entirely wicked.
Had he underestimated his very own mother all these years?
"You knew about your father, did you not?"
He blinked. "Beg your pardon?"
"Your father always loved another and you knew that."
Stephen could not speak.
Her gaze softened. "I loved your father and he was fond of me. But he loved someone who could never return that love."
"You had a marriage of convenience, Mother. I have no wish for that. I have to make things right with Elizabeth."
She smiled. "You know I loved your father. I had five beautiful children with him. Do I regret it? Certainly not. But now I am married to a wonderful man, and my life is complete. If you love Elizabeth, marry her, her father's edict or not."
"You knew?"
"There is not much I do not know that goes on with you."
He stared at her thoughtfully. "I have a plan."
"Plans sometimes go astray. Tell her the truth."
"It's too late for that. This is a chance I have to take."
"Very well, then. Include me in your plans. I will have Elizabeth at my side at half past ten. Is that satisfactory?"
"Yes, and thank you."
Her eyes danced. "What are mothers for if not to help their sons trap innocent young maids in the garden?"
"Mother!"
"Goodness, Stephen. Do not be such a prude. I have had five children and two husbands, you know." Turning on her heel, she left the room, leaving him openmouthed and speechless.
Chapter Sixteen
The soiree was more a ball than an evening party, with at least a hundred people crowding the floor. An army of candelabra lit the perimeter of the room, giving the appearance of a thousand twinkling stars. Elizabeth stood between the young duchess and Stephen's mother. It was amazing that the Elbourne household could host another party so soon after her engagement ball, but Stephen's brother was a duke after all.
Elizabeth took in the sight of the couples gathering for the country dance that was about to begin. A pinprick of tears lined her lids. It was all she could do to keep her embarrassment over what her father had done to a minimum. To be a wagered bride was unforgivable.
She wondered how many people knew the truth. The duchess? Stephen's mother? How many people were laughing at her behind her back?
The thought of running into Stephen made her all the more determined to follow through with her plans. She had regretted slapping him the second she had done it. And her guilt had magnified a thousandfold when she had seen him walking lazily into the room an hour ago.
He had been dressed in black evening attire, making him appear even more devilishly handsome than she remembered. His stride was confident and graceful. Many of the ladies, young and old alike, fluttered their fans and batted their eyes as he gave them his most irresistible Clearbrook smile. His easygoing self-confidence exuded such masculine charm it was unnerving.
Her heart plummeted as she regarded the dancers.
But Stephen would never truly love her. He was just too honorable to refuse the terms of her father's wager.
After years of marriage, he would eventually begin to pity her, and she would begin to hate him. It was all too much to bear. She had to make up her mind what she was going to do about her life before it was too late.
"You look lovely tonight."
The low whisper broke into her reverie. She glanced over her shoulder. Stephen's cheek was an inch from her ear, setting the hairs on the back of her neck tingling with warmth.
"Good evening, my lord."
His hand pressed possessively on the small of her back. "Would you honor me with the next dance?"
The heat of his words flowed like warm honey through her veins, and before she could think of a way to excuse herself, he had pulled her onto the floor for a waltz.
"What? Not happy to see me?"
She lifted her eyes, finally coming to her senses. "You should have told me."
The tenderness in his gaze compelled her to look away. She would not fall for his charms. She would not.
He smiled and pressed her closer, turning her around the dance floor as if nothing were amiss. "You are as light as a fairy with wings, my love."
Her steps faltered. "Don't," she said, holding back a sob.
The lines around his mouth hardened as he twirled her toward the ballroom doors that led to the garden. An ache tightened about her chest when he took her arm, taking the conversation outside.
"What your father did matters not to me. I want to marry you, Elizabeth."
She avoided his dark gaze as the cool night air caressed her cheeks. Her heart struggled with her conscience. But he had lied by keeping the truth from her. How could they ever be happy?
"Don't you understand?" she said in a hurt tone. "I would always believe you married me because of my father. I was beginning to believe a marriage of convenience between us was something I could live with. But I cannot do it."
She gathered her courage and tried to hold her heart together as her eyes locked onto his. "The fact that my father pushed me upon you will always come between us. Our fate together has been doomed from the very start, my lord."
He gripped her arm more tightly and pulled her down the path toward the darkness of the trees. "But none of that signifies."
"Yes, it does."
No, not down th
at path again! She dug her heels into the pebbled walkway, knowing that if she wanted to keep her heart from shattering forever, she had to stay in sight of the couples standing outside the ballroom.
"We would never be happy," she added. "You could never be happy."
He stopped and turned. "You do not trust my love?"
Love? No, he was only doing the honorable thing. It was only a word to him.
"No," she finally said, wondering if he did love her just a little. But a little would never do. Her father's interference would always be between them. She would never be able to tell fact from fiction.
He raised his arm and clasped her waist, dragging her body tightly against his. "Tell me you do not love me, Elizabeth. Tell me. By heaven, the truth this time. I need to know."
She felt the beat of his heart against hers and drank in the sweetness of the bayberry scent she loved so much.
"The truth, Elizabeth," he whispered.
Tears spilled down her cheeks. She had to pick up the broken pieces of her life before there was nothing left to mend. She had to leave. "I never loved you. I don't want this marriage. You are a gamester like my father. I could never marry you."
For a few seconds he stood there, his muscles slowly stiffening beneath his clothes. The air between them grew thick with silence. He stepped away.
"I would never force you, madam, despite what you think of me. I am not an ogre. If you do not love me, then it is done."
She bit her lip, wanting to bury her head against his chest and tell him she loved him. But the coolness of those brown eyes told her it was over.
A deep aching pain sliced across her chest as he escorted her back to the ballroom, his determined stride making her hurry. "Smile, my dear. People will think we have argued."
Her pain quickly shifted to anger. He had given in all too easily. He should have fought for her love if he truly loved her. "I am not married to you. Do not tell me what to do."
"And that is the crux of the matter, is it not?" His lips thinned as he made a curt bow, kissing her hand. "You leave me no choice," he murmured more to himself than to her, then handed her off to the duke for the next dance.
Stephen sank back in his chair as he took in William Shelby's flushed face. The blue room in the Elbourne townhouse was theirs to command. A small fire crackled in the hearth, giving the impression of a cozy ambience. But icy tension enveloped the room like a wicked winter storm, making the stakes undeniably real.
The card game had gone on for at least two hours. Shelby had lost a great sum. Grumwell and Hewitt had taken their leave a while ago.
Stephen laid his cards on the table, his eyes never leaving Shelby's face.
The older man looked up. "I fear you have me again, my lord."
Stephen pursed his lips. "Another hand, perhaps?" He knew men like Shelby. Winning was everything to them.
Shelby pulled at his cravat and took a mouthful of brandy. Stephen eyed the liquid, wanting just a drop to touch his tongue. Just a taste. Shelby must have realized his suffering.
"Soothes the throat, my lord. Sure you ain't wanting just a pinch? A bit thirsty?"
Smiling, Stephen shook his head. "I need to stay awake." He reached out to pour a cup of tea from the small tray table beside them.
Shelby frowned. "The engagement is still on, my lord. No matter what my Lizzie says. Or you. It would be a breach of contract, it would."
Stephen curled his lips deliberately. "Don't want that, do we? Would not look good for the Clearbrook name, now would it?"
As if a cool wind blew into the room, Shelby stirred in his seat. "Now, see here, my lord. We are to be family soon and I see no reason for any hard feelings. This is a business arrangement after all."
"A business arrangement, of course. What else?"
Shelby looked up, frowning, but he said nothing as he dealt the cards for another hand of vingt-et-un.
Stephen studied the man before him. The notion that he could have lost Elizabeth forever because of Shelby's machinations numbed his conscience.
"No hard feelings, Shelby. Shall we continue?"
Shelby's eyes gleamed at the amount Stephen threw in. "You seem to have more than enough money tonight, my lord."
Stephen shrugged. "Believe it or not, a man in my situation has a few business dealings on the side."
Shelby looked him over with a critical eye and laughed. "You won't be thinking to have all this back in Elizabeth's dowry now, would you?"
Stephen calmly took a sip of tea. His business dealings the past few weeks had given him a lively income with most of the money still tied up in investments. Nevertheless, he would like to have thrown Shelby's money in his face, but he needed to win. He needed to follow through with his plan. "Looks as though I will have to win enough for the honeymoon, eh?"
Shelby laughed. "Always knew you had a sense of humor."
Stephen picked up his cards. Sense of humor, indeed.
"If you are looking for my brother, Elizabeth, he can be found in the blue salon playing cards with your father."
Elizabeth glanced up to find Stephen's brother Marcus standing in her path. The hall had been deserted only a minute ago. She lifted her chin, pulling together her pride as she tried to walk past him. "I am not searching for your brother. You can be rest assured of that."
"My dear girl, you are not as good an actress as your little sister."
Elizabeth bit back a retort and tried to move past the man blocking her advance.
He touched her arm, stopping her. "You love him."
"I do not."
"You lie, Miss Elizabeth Shelby."
She shot him a haughty scowl. "Are all you Clearbrook men so arrogant?"
Marcus chuckled and gently pulled her further down the hall. "I fear you have found us out. We are an arrogant lot, to be sure. But we fight for what we believe in, and whether you want to believe it or not, Stephen wants to marry you."
She halted and folded her arms across her chest. "It matters not. The situation as it stands now is not one I choose to stay in. He obviously does not love me."
Marcus frowned. "But I believe the engagement papers are signed. You will be ruined if you pull out of the agreement now. You cannot jilt him. Millicent would be touched by scandal as well. Do you want that? Besides, you love him. Give him another chance. I know my brother. He is an honorable man. He will do right by you. Mark my word."
Give him another chance. She had been thinking that exact thing when Stephen had left her to dance with the duke.
"But what if he never loves me? What kind of life will I have then?"
"You mean, what kind of life will you have because you have been tossed about in a game of cards?"
She stared back in shock. Humiliation overwhelmed her. So he knew.
Marcus took her hand in his. "It has nothing to do with your worth, my dear. This is between your father and Stephen."
He tilted his head toward the stairs. "I believe Roderick mentioned to me that your father and Stephen are in the blue salon, second door on the left. If you wish to have a conversation with both of them in the same room, I would think this is as good a time as any. But it's up to you."
Elizabeth realized he was right. She still loved Stephen. She had to have this out with the two of them, no matter what happened. She turned toward the stairs. But a hand on her elbow stopped her.
"And if by chance you do not marry my brother," he gave her a devilish wink, "I will be here."
She felt herself color. "You would thwart your own flesh and blood?"
He smiled. "If what you say is true, and Stephen does not love you, then it should not matter at all."
"But I can never believe him." Could she? Yet a little seed began to grow, making her think that anything was possible.
Marcus sent her an irresistible smile. "As I said before, you are not a very good liar. You have already answered your own heart. You love Stephen, and somewhere inside you believe he loves you, too. No matter what your father
has done or what Stephen agreed to, you were meant to be together. Believe me, if it is true love, nothing will stand in your way."
She felt her throat spasm as she bent to kiss his cheek. "Thank you."
To her surprise, his face bloomed with color. "What for?"
Her lips split into a meaningful grin. "For understanding what the heart sometimes does not want to hear. After the wedding, I will find you a lady worthy of your love."
"See here, now. Let's not go as far as that. This was just a brotherly talk. It certainly did not pertain to me."
She glanced over her shoulder as she climbed the stairs toward the gaming salon, her blue eyes gleaming with promise. "I will not forget. You will have a lady worthy of your love and there will be no substitute."
She planned to tell her father and Stephen that she had had enough of their foolishness. This would be settled once and for all, and she would ask Stephen point blank if he loved her or not.
Marcus stood at the bottom of the stairs, staring at the vacant hallway.
"Problem, Marcus?" He turned at the sound of Roderick's amused voice. "Misplace something?" the duke asked.
Marcus scowled. "You could say that"
"And what, pray tell, have you misplaced on this grand night of diversion?" The duke raised a right brow in mock inquiry.
"My mind, Roderick. My blasted mind."
The door to the blue room eased open just as a servant departed, carrying a silver tea set. Elizabeth stood in the hall, not intending to eavesdrop, but the sudden sound of her father's voice kept her frozen in place.
"You must be mad. I cannot hold you to that amount. The duke would call me out, my dear boy."
"Shelby, if you continue to call me dear boy, I will call you out myself." The crisp sardonic response belonged to Stephen.
"Very well, then. If you insist, my lord. But Lizzie ain't going to be happy about this."
There was a slight scrape of a chair, the clearing of her father's throat, the cracking of knuckles.
The Wagered Bride (The Clearbrooks) Page 20
