by Joyce Alec
It was hard not to think nothing but ill thoughts about him, her anger and sadness fighting against one another as to who might get to fill her completely. She often thought about her betrothed in the dark watches of the night, when her tears had dried but her eyes refused to close. It pained her so much it was almost a physical wound, open and seeping as she struggled to comprehend why he had turned his back upon her.
“Lord Mallon has not been in correspondence with you?” she asked, interrupting Lord Parke’s flow of compliments. “Where might he be? Do you have any idea?”
Lord Parke’s smile faded, and a somewhat ugly expression crossed his face. “My dear lady, you must forget Lord Mallon.”
“How can you say such a thing?” Elizabeth asked, as they walked back towards her townhouse. “He is my betrothed and your cousin. Are you not in the least bit concerned over his whereabouts?”
He shrugged. “No, indeed I am not. He is his own man, and a rather foolish one at that, I must say. Turning his back on such a wonderful lady like you, simply to take his own pleasures elsewhere?” Lord Parke snorted, his expression growing disdainful. “I cannot help but be surprised at your loyalty, my lady.”
“I am loyal because it is expected of me,” Elizabeth replied in a soft voice, finding his words a little barbed. “You cannot expect me just to turn my back on the man, especially when there is no explanation as to where he has gone. Perhaps he has been called away on some urgent business and did not have time to explain.”
Elizabeth was aware she was grasping for a good and reasonable explanation for Lord Mallon’s absence, but she found that there was something in her that wanted to defend him, wanted to force herself to believe that he was not simply running away from her and from all they had promised to one another.
In other words, she was being quite ridiculous, her sadness and grief welling up within her all over again.
“My dear Lady Elizabeth, you are much too gracious and generous towards that man,” Lord Parke replied with a slight sniff. “I tell you now that he is not doing anything urgent, but he is doing what he pleases wherever he pleases.”
Elizabeth shook her head, her throat aching. What kind of man was she engaged to? Was this the kind of husband he would be? “My mother has never given me the impression that he was anything but genteel,” she said hoarsely. “I cannot understand why—”
“He has done his very best to hide his nature in such a way from all who might concern themselves with him,” Lord Parke replied coldly. “Give up your thoughts of him and his imminent return, Lady Elizabeth. Perhaps, think of another who might be worth your time and devotion.”
They stopped outside Elizabeth’s home. Confusion reigned in her mind, struggling to even think about breaking her engagement, and yet hating the idea that such a man would be her husband.
“Think about what I have to say, Lady Elizabeth,” he continued with a quick smile, as he bowed over her hand. “I shall call upon you again, in a few days’ time.”
He did not give her the opportunity to either agree or refuse this idea, simply turning away from her side at once and walking back down the street he had come from. Elizabeth, still confused and conflicted, sighed heavily and made her own way inside.
“Ah, Lady Elizabeth,” the butler said at once, as she came in the room. “You have a letter.”
She looked up at him expectantly, her heart suddenly filled with a great hope. “A letter? From whom?”
The butler gave a slight smile. “That would be beyond my powers of deduction, Lady Elizabeth. I shall bring it to you in the drawing room, shall I?”
Elizabeth nodded, quickly untying her bonnet. “Yes, please. Thank you.”
She hurried up to her bedchamber to change, aware that her mother would not stand to see Elizabeth’s dirty hem in the drawing room. Her heart began to thunder wildly, her stomach tightening as her maid helped her to change, feeling as though she was somewhere between hope and despair.
Once changed and aware that her face was flushed, Elizabeth made her way down to the drawing room, and with a quick nod and smile to her mother, she sat down on the couch and waited expectantly.
The butler appeared almost momentarily, holding out the silver tray whereupon sat the letter. Elizabeth took it with a shaking hand, turning it over and, at once, recognizing the seal.
Lord Mallon.
Was he writing to her so as to break off their engagement? Was this the end of it all? She could not bear to open it, feeling as if she would burst into tears at any moment.
“Elizabeth?”
Her mother’s voice was gentle, and in a moment, Elizabeth felt a presence sit by her as she closed her eyes and fought tears.
“Lord Mallon, I presume?”
Elizabeth nodded, her throat closing.
“Well, it will do you no good to hold it in your hand,” her mother said briskly. “You have been waiting weeks to hear from him, as have I, I might add. Now is your chance to see whether there is truly any heartache to be had.”
Her mother, whilst a stalwart presence these last few weeks, had always been more practical than Elizabeth needed. She wanted her mother to understand her feelings, her aches and hopelessness, but her mother had been entirely fixed on keeping things just as they were, reminding Elizabeth that her betrothal had never become public.
Her father had been much too busy with business to care much about what was going on with his daughter, and he presumed that all was well, much to Elizabeth’s dismay. She had not told him the truth of her worries, nor of Lord Mallon’s absence. At times, she had found his cheerful disposition rather trying. Her mother had promised to speak to him should Lord Mallon remain absent until the end of the Season, which had been some comfort at least.
“I do not think I can open it, Mama,” Elizabeth whispered, reaching for her mother’s hand and squeezing it, hard. “He is to end it all, I know it.”
There was a short pause. “I did not think you so affected by him after such a short acquaintance,” her mother said softly. “Come now, my dear. Open it and read what is within. All will be well, I am sure of it.”
Tears trickled down her cheeks, as Elizabeth opened the letter, almost unwilling to read what was within. She was forced to wipe her eyes as the words blurred, sniffing indelicately as her mother quickly handed her a lace handkerchief before moving a little away so as not to read over Elizabeth’s shoulder.
Elizabeth could not trust her voice, and so she read the letter quickly and silently.
‘My dear Elizabeth,’ it read. ‘I am surprised that I have not heard from you all these weeks. I had thought there was the beginnings of a wonderful intimacy between us and so I am disheartened that you have not thought of me when I was called away to nurse my father as I said in my letter. I must hope that there is some reason for your silence, for my mind and my heart simply cannot comprehend it. My father is now out of danger, I am glad to say, and I hope to return to London very soon. If you have any consideration for me, I beg you to reply. A short note from you and my heart will rest easy.’
Elizabeth stared down at the letter, reading it three more times before handing it to her mother. She had no idea what Lord Mallon was talking about, confused beyond all measure over his question about why she had not responded to his letter. Her stomach filled with a heavy weight, pushing her down into her chair until she covered her face with her hands and wept, the letter falling to the floor. She was vastly confused, her mind overcome with tumultuous thoughts, a guilt assuaging her although she knew not from where it came.
Her mother rubbed her back gently and plucked the letter from Elizabeth’s fingers, reading it over once before sighing heavily.
“Oh, my dear,” she said quietly. “Whatever has been going on? What is this letter of which he speaks? Did you know his father was ill?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No,” she replied hoarsely. “I had no idea. I do not understand, Mama. He seems so angry with me.”
“I would be t
oo, if I were him,” her mother said gently. “There is clearly a mix-up of some kind. You must write back to him at once and explain that you have very little idea of what he is writing about. I am sure he will understand. When he comes back to London, you shall both have a talk, and everything will sort itself out. I am quite sure.”
Feeling lost and confused, Elizabeth tried to draw comfort from what her mother was saying. “I hope so, Mama,” she said softly, wiping her eyes. “I hope it is not all too late.”
14
“Your correspondence, my lord.”
Luke glanced up, as the butler walked in, holding two letters on his silver tray. His father, sitting opposite him, smiled as Luke took them at once, turning them over at once to look at the seal.
“This one is from my steward whom I sent to London to ensure all was prepared for my return,” Luke mumbled, discarding it on the table. “And this one…”
His father raised an eyebrow as Luke trailed off, staring down at the seal.
“She has written to you at last, then?”
“It would appear so,” Luke breathed, his heart slamming forcibly into his chest, as he tried to control his breathing. He felt sick and excited all at once, not quite sure what she would say to him as regards to her silence towards him this last while.
“That was a much quicker response than you expected, I dare say?” his father queried, making Luke pause and look up at him.
“Yes, it is. I was not expecting to hear from her so soon, given that she did not reply to my first note at all.” He could barely keep his gaze on his father, his mind going over and over what might be contained in the letter he held in his hand. Was she to reject his suit? Tell him that there was no longer anything between them? He hated the very thought of it, his heart squeezing in pain.
“I can leave you in peace if you wish,” his father said softly, as Luke dragged his eyes away from the letter in his hand.
He shook his head. “No, Father, please. Stay. Most likely I will need your advice after reading it!”
The marquess chuckled and raised his cup of coffee in salute. “Very well, my son. Go on into the fray, although I am sure it will not be as bad as you think.”
Luke, aware that his hands were clammy, turned the letter over and broke the seal, unfolding it carefully. He could not bring himself to read it aloud, his heart pounding so loudly he was certain the noise of it echoed around the room.
‘My dear Lord Mallon,’ it began, with an affection that had him breathing a little easier. ‘I must confess that I am entirely at a loss as to what you are referring. I am most deeply sorry for all and any upset I have caused in not responding to you, but I did not ever receive a note from you. I have been quite lost these last weeks, wondering as to where you had gone, and your cousin was of very little help also. I am relieved to hear from you and would beg you to return to London as soon as you can so that we might talk in depth about all that has gone on. I am very concerned about your father’s health and hope with all my heart that he is much recovered. Do forgive me, my lord. I beg your pardon for all and any upset. Yours, Lady Elizabeth.’
Luke frowned heavily, lifting his eyes to his father, who raised his one eyebrow.
“All is not well, then?”
“Here,” Luke replied, handing him the letter. “Read this. Make of it what you will.”
He watched as his father read the letter, seeing the concern etching itself on to his face as he took in each line. This was not what he had expected.
“I do not understand,” his father said slowly, as he handed the letter back to Luke. “I thought you had sent a note to Lady Elizabeth before you left.”
“I did not send it myself,” Luke said, quietly. “I entrusted it to Parke. He promised me he would ensure it found its way to Elizabeth, and I had very little reason to doubt him.”
The marquess’s frown became heavier. “And now she says she did not receive the note?”
“I believe her, of course,” Luke said hastily. “I struggled to reconcile what I knew of her to the sudden silence that followed me here, but now it appears that perhaps Parke did not give her the note as he had promised.”
An idea suddenly burst in on his mind, making him catch his breath. At the same time, he saw the widening of his father’s eyes, realizing that there might be more to Parke’s behavior than a simple forgetfulness.
“Lady Elizabeth mentions Lord Parke,” Luke murmured, grasping the note from the table and reading it quickly. “She says ‘Your cousin was of very little help also’.” He shook his head, looking over at his father. “Why was Parke speaking to her if he knew he had a note from me to deliver? Why not tell her the truth?”
“And from the sound of it, it appears Parke to be in London still. I did not think that he intended to remain there,” his father commented with a frown. “I thought he was to return home to try and get those creditors off his back.”
His brows knotted, Luke picked up his other letter and turned it over, breaking the wax seal. “Parke told me he intended to return home, but you are quite right to suggest that he is still in London,” he murmured, unfolding the letter from the butler. “Do you think he could be as foolish as to remain in my home without my knowledge?”
“It is Parke we are talking about,” the marquess replied gravely. “He is capable of a great many things; I am sure of it.”
Reading the letter from his steward, Luke’s anger began to rise, a ball of fury settling in his stomach.
“‘My lord,’” he read aloud. “‘I write to inform you that all is well in London. There is no need to concern yourself with any matters here. Your cousin, Lord Parke, is taking care of the townhouse and is running the household staff well, as he was instructed. We await your return.’”
Raising his eyes, Luke saw the rueful look in his father’s eyes, aware that he was not in the least bit surprised by Lord Parke’s behavior.
“I cannot believe it,” Luke mumbled, dropping the letter onto the table. “Evidently, my cousin has been using your accident to his own benefit! He has remained in London in the knowledge that Lady Elizabeth will have no idea as to where I have gone and has hoped that I will be much too caught up with the situation here as to worry about why she has not replied or wonder whether or not Lord Parke has returned home as he said.” Groaning in frustration, Luke thumped the table with his fist. “He has been living in my home, sleeping in my quarters most likely, drinking my brandy, and acquainting himself with my friends!”
“Do not forget trying to worm his way into Lady Elizabeth’s good graces,” his father added, with a lift of his eyebrows. “I fear that is more significant than you are aware.”
Something heavy dropped into Luke’s stomach. “Do not tell me that Parke intends to try and steal Lady Elizabeth for himself!” he exclaimed, sitting back in his chair as shock rippled through him. “Her dowry would be enough to clear his debts and leave a little behind!”
His father shook his head sadly. “I would not be surprised if he was attempting to do just that, Luke. That man is not wise. He is sly and conniving and extremely foolish.” He paused, his expression grim. “Do you think that Lady Elizabeth would be taken by him? After all, you did not know her particularly well. You only had the one meeting, did you not?”
Recalling how he had met Lady Elizabeth on a number of occasions before they had been introduced, Luke shook his head. “In fact, Father, we met a few times, but without knowledge of one another’s title.” Seeing his father’s inquisitive look, Luke shrugged and smiled softly. “I do not need to elaborate at this very moment, but suffice to say that we did begin to establish an acquaintance prior to our formal introduction. I have very little concern in that regard, Father. Elizabeth will not have her head turned by Parke, although—of course—she can have no understanding of his true intentions.”
The marquess nodded, his eyes filled with interest. “You shall have to tell me one day how it is that you came to know the lady, but for the time bein
g, I shall be glad that there is something between you both. However,” he continued with a small frown, “I am concerned that Lord Parke is still involved. If he has managed to introduce himself to her and convinced her that you are not to return to London, then what more might he do if she should speak to him of your note?”
Something like fear began to climb through Luke’s veins.
“After all, Lady Elizabeth is his way to a good fortune,” his father continued softly. “Think about it, Luke. If you were he, would you really give up on the acquaintance you had managed to build with a lady just because it appeared it might go awry? Or, in desperation, would you attempt to force a marriage between yourself and the lady?”
Luke shuddered, a vision appearing in his mind. Parke grasping Lady Elizabeth, holding her fast until someone caught them in such a position. In order to save a scandal, she would be forced to marry Lord Park since the ton did not know of her engagement to Luke.
“I think you had best go to London,” his father finished quietly. “Before it is too late. The last thing Parke will expect is your sudden and unexpected presence back in town.”
Luke nodded thoughtfully. “You are quite right. Normally, I would alert my household to my return, but I will simply leave without any kind of note being sent ahead. I just hope that Lady Elizabeth has not spoken to Lord Parke about what she has learned of me before I get there.”
“I think you had best hurry,” his father replied, with a wave of his hand. “You need not worry about me, my son. I am already well on the road to recovery. Go now. Find your bride and teach that cousin of yours a lesson he is not likely to forget.”
