Just as his mind was beginning to clear of its haze, he felt someone come up and stand beside him. “I see you’ve met the lovely Lady Davenport.”
Elliot turned, noting his body had no problem listening to his commands now and this time he did curse. Lord Wadsworth was standing next to him in all of his arrogant splendor, his lopsided grin was irksome and Elliot had a desire to reach out and slug it off of his face.
“I consider myself lucky that she’s agreed to escort me to Vauxhall Gardens tomorrow evening. I’m anxious to see if she’s as eager for male companionship as the other widows of my acquaintance have been.”
Normally Elliot couldn’t have cared less what Lord Wadsworth said about any lady of the ton, widow or not, but hearing him speak so crudely of Felicity was enough to make him see red. Anger like he had never known boiled in his chest and he felt his fists clench tightly at his sides. He felt like his body was betraying him; refusing to cooperate when he desired but doing other things of its own accord. He took a step closer to Lord Wadsworth and reached out and shoved him into the corner, causing his champagne to splash onto his waistcoat.
Lord Wadsworth’s eyes widened and his chin set in defiance as he quickly righted himself and hissed, “Keep your hands off of me.”
“Gladly, so long as you keep yours off of Lady Davenport.”
“What I do concerning the marchioness is of none of your affair, if you’re interested in taking a turn with her than get in line with the rest of them,” he gestured one hand flippantly towards a group of gentleman before leaning in close to Elliot’s face and hissing, “Just know that I had her first.”
Elliot couldn’t help himself then, he slammed his fist right into Lord Wadsworth’s nose and cringed when he both heard and felt a sickening crack. He took a step back as Lord Wadsworth reached up and began wiping the blood from his face as a group of people began rushing over to see what all the commotion was about. The tension never left Elliot’s body as he glowered at Lord Wadsworth and warned, “Stay away from her. Next time I won’t be so nice.”
Just as Elliot was turning to leave Pierce reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, the look on his face was one of disbelief and confusion. “What’s going on here?”
“I’m leaving, that’s what’s going on. Have my driver take you home, I much prefer to walk.” He shrugged Pierce’s hand from his shoulder and stalked out of the ballroom and into the frigid night.
Though he knew his chances of catching up to Felicity were slim, he still scanned the waiting carriages that were lined up in the drive hoping to catch a glimpse of her. There was no one in sight that even remotely resembled her and the only other thing that he could think to do was start looking in each one of them in hopes of finding her. Such was his frame of mind that he felt just desperate enough to do it too. Somehow his voice of reason convinced him that he’d already made a fool enough of himself for one night and he decided to refrain from any further embarrassment.
He looked up at the glittering stars in the sky and whispered, “Oh Felicity” before shrugging out of his jacket and draping it over one arm as he began walking down the street, away from the scene he had just caused. He knew Lord Wadsworth well enough to know that he wouldn’t just sit back and take the humiliation Elliot had inflicted upon him kindly. No, there would definitely be a consequence to pay; he just hoped that he didn’t plan on taking out his revenge on Felicity.
He made up his mind right then and there that he was going to have to protect her, and convince her that whatever reasons she had for her perfidy were idiotic. She had loved him once, enough that she was willing to give everything she had to him and he wouldn’t accept anything less from her now. With any luck, before the season was over, Felicity Pemberton would finally be his wife. The thought made him smile.
He would just have to spend the next few weeks courting her and convincing her to give up her foolish scheme. From now on, wherever Lady Davenport was, Elliot would be there also. Society’s gossipmongers were sure going to have a lot to talk about when Lord Martineau started showing up at every society function—tongues were sure to wag.
Chapter 3
Saturday April 16th, 1814
Elliot awoke the next morning in an unusually chipper mood. He shaved the stubble from his face before allowing Charles to dress him, all the while eyeing him skeptically. Charles had been his valet since he had returned from Eton and had surely had the chance to witness his various moods throughout the years. He had always patiently endured the bouts of anger and melancholy that would sporadically inflict Elliot since Felicity’s disappearance, ever the loyal servant. He went on tiptoe to secure a fresh cravat around his master’s neck when Elliot reached out and took it from him and proceeded to tie it himself, whistling merrily.
Charles watched him warily. “It’s a good morning, my lord,” he said but the way he said it, it came out sounding more like a question than a statement.
Elliot stopped whistling, “Yes Charles, and hopefully the day will only get better.” Without further explanation, he grabbed his coat and threw it over his shoulder before strolling happily out of the room.
He went to the breakfast room and sat down while a servant brought him a pot of steaming tea and a tray of blueberry scones. When his butler arrived with a stack of invitations he exclaimed, “Ah, Percival, just the man I wished to see.” He reached for the stack of envelopes and began shuffling through them, anxious to see what entertainments were being provided for his pleasure.
He casually threw aside an invitation to a musicale and another to a ball to be held at the Timkin’s when he remembered that Felicity was supposed to be escorting Lord Wadsworth to Vauxhall Gardens this eve. He grinned wickedly when he thought of the horrendous bruise that was sure to mar Lord Wadsworth’s face as a result of the broken nose Elliot had inflicted. He was pretty sure the cad wouldn’t dare be seen in public with such imperfection tarnishing his pretty boy face and he delightfully realized that his impetuous actions the previous night would free up Felicity for the evening.
Picking up the discarded invitations, he began once more to shuffle through them. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he studied each invite, trying to decipher which event Felicity was most likely to attend. He thought back to when they were younger—Felicity had the voice of an angel, a hauntingly melodic voice that was grander than any instrument ever played. She had always favored attending musicales over balls, much to Elliot’s chagrin, often being asked to perform and always obliging.
Musicale’s usually bored Elliot to tears, listening to endless displays of amateurish talent grated on his nerves. If he was going to subject himself to listening to such horrendous clatter, he’d rather be in a barn listening to a horse give birth. At least the awful sounds heard there eventually led to new life. That was unless Felicity was singing; he’d gladly sit through any amount of torture to hear her voice beckon to him with its deep timbre and perfect pitch.
He was pretty sure he’d fallen in love with her the first time he had ever heard her sing. The minute she had opened her succulent mouth and the words began pouring forth he was hooked. He sat there and stared at her, as mesmerized as everyone else who was within hearing distance. He’d never forget the sound of her voice as long as he lived, nor the startling effect it had on him—it had been as if she was singing to him alone, her eyes trained on him the entire performance, his own eyes unable to look away. She beckoned to him with her voice, reeling him into the tale she was singing, the slight raspiness of her voice sending chills coursing over his already alert and attentive body. She was a feast to his senses—delighting his eyes with her extraordinary beauty, treasuring his ears with her delightful and addicting voice, and if he was guessing correctly, the taste of her lips would delight his sense of taste just as splendidly.
Shaking himself out of his reverie, he forced himself to focus on the task at hand. It was with a foreign pleasure that he sent off a response to attend the musicale that eve, knowi
ng in his heart of hearts that would be where he’d find his love.
His good mood wasn’t to last long however, as Percival stepped soundlessly back into the room, “My lord, you have a visitor.”
For one unrealistically hopeful moment, Elliot dared hope it was Felicity but his hopes were dashed when Percival said, “His Grace is here to see you. He’s waiting in the drawing room.”
Elliot rose from the table and rolled his eyes. He was in no mood to deal with a lecture from Pierce about his horrendous behavior the previous evening but figured he’d better face up to it now rather than later for he knew Pierce wasn’t likely to drop the subject anytime soon.
Walking into the drawing room, Elliot remained silent eyeing Pierce shrewdly and waiting for the lecture that was sure to come. Pierce didn’t disappoint. Before Elliot even had a chance to sit he was pouncing, “What were you thinking slugging Lord Wadsworth in the nose like that? You can’t just go around beating up anyone who annoys you.”
“Pity that.” Elliot responded flippantly.
“And the way you treated Miss Ogglesby was atrocious. You were supposed to be escorting her last night not leaving her abandoned while you run around chasing beautiful widows.”
Elliot felt foolish, in his excitement at seeing Felicity he’d completely forgotten all about Miss Ogglesby. “You’re right, my behavior towards her was appalling. I’ll have to make my apologies and hope she accepts.”
Pierce let his shoulders fall, looking at Elliot as if he’d suddenly sprouted two heads. “You admit that your behavior was ghastly?”
Elliot leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Absolutely. I hope you allow me to make it up to her.” He wasn’t sure where that had come from or that he fully meant it but he figured the words had already been spit out and there was no recalling them now.
“What did you have in mind?”
What did he have in mind? Nothing. The last thing he wanted to do was spend any amount of time with the dreary Miss Ogglesby. “I uh, I was thinking that I could possibly, that is if you’d grant your permission, I was hoping I might escort her to the Bradford musicale this evening.” Drat, why had he gone and said that?
Pierce looked at him with one dark brow raised skeptically, “And what makes you think I’d allow you to escort her anywhere after last night?”
Feeling defensive Elliot snapped, “I’m not going to beg you to allow me to spend time in her presence. If you don’t recall, you were the one who had to beg me for the favor in the first place. Honestly I have no interest in the chit, but I’m man enough to admit I treated her unfairly last night and that I wish to make it up to her. I’ll escort her to the musicale and introduce her to some eager young bucks that would be better suited to her and ensure that she receives plenty of attention, proper attention.”
“I shouldn’t allow it.” Pierce snarled.
“Then don’t, it’s of no consequence to me.”
“You know, I take that back, I think I will allow it just to aggravate you.”
Elliot had to push down the childish urge he suddenly felt to stick is tongue out at Pierce. Both of them were an only child and Pierce was the closest thing he had to a brother, the only person that could annoy him as only a brother could.
“But,” Pierce continued, “I must warn you that if you screw up this time you’ll have to answer to me.”
“I’m shaking in my boots.”
“You should be, but suffice it to say that you’ve been sufficiently warned and that I trust you’ll heed my threat.”
“You know I’m not scared of you, Pierce. Perhaps you should be scared of me, you saw what I did to the last man that got on my nerves.”
Pierce stood then, an attempt to intimidate Elliot with his size. He walked over to where Elliot was sitting and ruffled his hair much as he would do to a child. “Just be a good lad, okay? I’d hate to have to turn you over my knee and give you a spanking.”
Elliot reached over and cuffed him lightly on his arm, “Save it for your wife, man. Now get out of here.”
Pierce just laughed and let himself out.
Chapter 4
Felicity’s nerves were taut the entire time she was readying herself for the Bradford musicale. She had secretly been relieved when she had received a missive from Lord Wadsworth informing her that he wasn’t feeling well and had to cancel their outing. Not that she didn’t find him attractive, for he certainly was that, but his smooth arrogant manner put her off. She’d heard tales of him being a womanizer but had so far chosen to ignore them. From what she knew of him, he was wealthy and being pressured relentlessly by his parents to find a wife and produce an heir. And so far, he was the man who had given her the most attention.
Her thoughts flicked to Elliot and she was instantly unnerved. She let a deep breath exhale between her lips and said a silent prayer that she wouldn’t run into him anytime soon. She knew that he saw past her pretense as a widow to who she truly was but she couldn’t allow him to rattle her composure. She had too much relying on her ability to find a proper husband, a proper place back into society to allow her former feelings to ruin everything she hoped to accomplish. She had purposely chosen to attend a musicale when her prior plans had fallen through, knowing it would be her best bet if she hoped to evade Elliot. Elliot hated musicales.
Aunt Agatha scurried into the room just then, rushing over to do up the back of her scarlet dress. One of the perks of playing a widow was the opportunity it gave her to dress and behave as she wished. She knew the blood red color of her dress was bold but looking in the mirror she couldn’t help but be pleased with the way it looked against her pale skin, contrasting perfectly with her ebony curls making her appear more mature and worldly than she felt. It was the perfect choice to give her the added look of confidence that she so desperately needed and it was one of the few nice gowns Aunt Agatha had been able to afford for her upon her return. She would forever be grateful for her dear aunt for all she had done for her and hoped that their plan would work so that she could repay her for all of her kindness.
“You better hurry along child or you’ll be more than fashionably late.” Aunt Agatha patted her lightly on the rear end shoving her towards the door.
As her carriage rattled along the streets of London towards the Bradford’s house on Mulberry Street she tried to occupy her mind by thinking of the eligible gentlemen she had been introduced to since her return to London, hoping that her decision to attend the musicale tonight despite Lord Wadsworth’s absence wouldn’t prove to be a waste of her time. Time was one of the many things she was running low on these days; she felt the ever present stirring of anxiety in her chest as she thought of her impossible predicament. She reached up and rubbed her temples methodically with her gloved hands, trying to ward off the ache in her head.
By the time she reached the Bradford’s house she had convinced herself once more that her plan would work, she had to believe it would or else she didn’t know what else she’d do. Walking into the house she quickly scanned the group of people that had begun seating themselves in the music room. There was a pianoforte situated at the front of the room as well as a separate table and chair with a shiny silver flute sitting precariously on the table. She was eager for the night’s entertainment to begin and went and sat gingerly on one of the seats left unoccupied.
Elliot walked into the music room with Miss Ogglesby on his arm. Every instinct in his body screamed at him to shake her from his person and bolt. He wasn’t sure if it was her youthful naivety alone that irritated him or just the fact that she wasn’t the woman he wanted on his arm that chafed him so.
“Lord Martineau do you think there will be singing? I always love listening to a good singing voice.”
“Oh heaven help me, I hope not.”
“Well at least there will be something besides the pianoforte,” she gestured towards the small table sitting at the front of the room. “Look, there’s a flute, what a pleasant surprise that is!”
&nbs
p; Elliot felt himself shudder at the thought of a simpering young maiden attempting to play a tune on the wretched thing. His ears were already aching at the prospect.
Elenore must’ve felt him shudder because she reached one gloved hand over and gently touched her hand to his forehead, “Are you okay, my lord?”
Elliot pushed her hand away brusquely, “Of course I’m okay, it’s just that—” Just then he spotted a vision in red. His jaw fell as he beheld the most exquisite sight he had ever seen. Not twenty feet away Felicity sat demurely in her seat, her body draped in a vibrant red silk that hugged her womanly curves. Elliot’s mouth went dry and he couldn’t seem to peel his eyes away from her or make his brain formulate a coherent thought.
Miss Ogglesby’s voice and nudging elbow finally startled him out of his trance, “Maybe we should go, I’m not convinced you are well.”
The last thing he wanted to do now that he had seen Felicity was to leave. He did however want Miss Ogglesby gone. Frantically he turned and led her away in the opposite direction of Felicity to the side of the room where a group of men were standing sipping champagne. He frustratingly racked his brain for any of the three men’s names, knowing he would look foolish if he stepped forth to introduce them to Miss Ogglesby and couldn’t claim he remembered their names.
Just as he was taking the last step towards them, a name miraculously popped into his mind. “Lord Weatherby, just the man I wished to see.”
The plump baron looked at him in surprise, wiping a pile of accumulated crumbs from his waistcoat, forgetting altogether to wipe the mess from his face. “Lord Martineau, are you sure it is I you wish to speak with?” He couldn’t blame the man for being confused, he wasn’t sure he had ever spoken to the man in his life.
“Of course.” Then turning he propelled Miss Ogglesby forward, “I’d like you to meet Miss Ogglesby.” The girl curtsied as Lord Weatherby bowed awkwardly. Elliot had a suspicion that anything he did would be laced with awkwardness due to the large girth he had hidden not quite effectively beneath his waistcoat.
Ladies of Deception 02 - Misleading Lord Martineau Page 3
