"For once, I agree with you, Underhill."
Both Eliza and Stephen turned to see Nicholas approaching them. His expression was bland but Eliza could see unrest etched all over his handsome face.
Despite his status as a duke, Nicholas bowed stiffly to both of the Deaver siblings before either of them could greet him first. "Lady Eliza. Lord Underhill." For once, there was no malice in his tone when he used Stephen's title.
"Lord Candlewood." Stephen's turquoise eyes darkened and for a moment, Eliza believed she saw a hint of the man she had once called her brother. Then it was gone and he offered Nicholas a stiff bow. "We did not expect to see you this evening. Despite the fact that you issued the invitation to us on our host's behalf." Eliza also noted that Stephen's hand never left her elbow, as if offering some sort of protection.
Nicholas made an offhanded gesture. "I did not know myself. As I am certain Eliza can attest, my schedule often changes at the whims of our beloved prince regent." Then he smiled and Eliza saw a curious light in his eyes. "But in this case, Prinny was not at fault. I was."
"Nicholas. Don't." Eliza had no idea what her would-be suitor meant to say next but she doubted that it would be favorable. She pushed her glasses back up on her nose in a nervous gesture. There was a time when the heavy frames would have helped her hide. No longer.
Then she glanced nervously at Stephen to see if he had noticed her mistake in using the duke's Christian name. He had. And while he did not appear happy about the gaffe, he did not rebuke her either. Much to her surprise and relief.
Nicholas surprised her as well by taking her gloved hand in his own and bringing it to his lips. "Don't what, Izzy?" His eyes were dark now but she saw a glimmer of emotion shining deep within them. Though whether it was remorse, mischief or something else, she could not be certain. "Don't tell your brother the truth? For he will soon learn it anyway, I am certain."
"And what truth would that be? That you are far too familiar with my sister for my liking?" Stephen remained stiff and motionless at Eliza's side, and a part of Nicholas applauded him for it. If this man was not truly Stephen, he was making a good show of things. "I already know that."
Nicholas brushed away an imaginary speck of lint on his otherwise pristine black evening coat. "That I am abysmal at relationships involving the farer sex." He gave Stephen a rather cynical look. "I make no secret of it, certainly. After all, I am often the subject of rather fanciful gossip. And a noted rake." Then he looked at Eliza and she thought she saw his expression soften a fraction. Then it was gone and she knew she had to be imagining things. "But in this case, I need to be better. I need to behave better. After all, I am courting a lady. But I did not do either of those things. And I must admit that I was a bit hesitant to be seen with Eliza after the gossip of the day, as I did not wish to sully her reputation. And so the fault lies with me." Then he kissed her gloved hand again. "But I could not stay away."
Furious, Eliza wanted to smack Nicholas for doing the entire situation up so well that he sounded like a lovesick fool - which any idiot with a brain could see that he was not. He was supposed to be courting her. Not acting as if they were madly in love.
Not to mention that with each kind and loving gesture from him, Eliza's heart hurt just a little more. It was all a lie. An act. And for a spinster like her, all the closer she would ever come to true romance. To Nicholas, it was merely a game. Another chance to be a spy. But for her, it was a reminder of all of the things she would never have.
He knew this. Nicholas was no fool. So why he was twisting the knife into her wounds she did not know. He was kinder and more considerate to other women than he was to her. And while she knew her part in this farce of a romance, that didn't make the hurt any less real. Words could still wound, even when one was pretending.
She shouldn't allow this to bother her so much. But it did. And it had to stop. Play the role and nothing more. Then move on. That was the only way she would be able to come out of this whole. And it was time Nicholas knew it. Especially since he seemed hell bent on making a fool of her in the process.
No more pretty words or gesturers. They ended tonight.
"Nicholas, I...."
But Eliza wasn't able to finish her thought before Stephen jumped in.
"That is good of you, Candlewood." Stephen nodded, as if accepting Nicholas' explanation at face value. "I would not have expected such consideration from a rogue like you."
Nicholas sighed as he lifted one shoulder in resignation. "Even The Bloody Duke makes mistakes every now and then." Then he reached down and picked up Eliza's dance card, which was still secured firmly about her wrist. "If I may, my lady?"
Stupidly, Eliza nodded, not understanding what had just transpired but having the general sense that she did not like it. This was not the way Nicholas behaved - Bloody Duke or not. He did not apologize and he certainly didn't make mistakes. At least none that he would admit to. It would shatter the illusion he had worked so long and hard to craft. So why he was behaving like a gentleman now, one who gave a fig about society and a lady's heart, she did not know. But she did not like it either.
Glancing down at the card still dangling from her wrist, Eliza saw that Nicholas had claimed three dances - including two waltzes.
And then she understood, reality crashing into her fantasy world. This apology was just one more scene in the act that was their courtship. Nicholas wasn't truly sorry. He was merely playing a role, that of uncertain suitor mixed with unrepentant rogue. His goal was still to remain close to her family, all while maintaining his reputation as a scoundrel who flouted the rules. Otherwise, he would never have selected two waltzes with her - even if he was courting her. It just wasn't done unless one wanted to cause a scandal. Or be dragged directly into the parson's mousetrap.
Nicholas was setting up the inevitable end to their relationship.
For as angry as she was, Eliza had to admit that sort of planning took a great deal of forethought and she applauded him for it. She would never have thought of it on her own. Then again, that was why he was The Bloody Duke, the most feared man in all of England.
And for a moment, she wondered what it would truly be like to be courted by such a man. And how stupid Ellie Reynolds had been for choosing the elderly Berkshire over Nicholas. And another bit of anger flared inside of Eliza when she thought of all she would not have. And how, if Nicholas might only find her attractive...even a little...
Then Eliza quickly dismissed the thought as foolish nonsense. That sort of thinking would lead to nothing but trouble. She already thought Nicholas too handsome by half. If she continued down that dangerous path, she risked becoming infatuated with him - just like every other foolish young debutante in London. And since she was neither young nor pretty, nor likely to ever find a spot in his bed, that was a very foolish line of thinking indeed. She was also not nearly that stupid. At least her head wasn't. Her heart was a different matter, however.
Nicholas watched Eliza all evening. He couldn't help himself. Especially when both Frost and Lord Hunt claimed their dances with her. Hunt's had been a waltz, which had made Nicholas want to punch something again. Though he had no idea why. He supposed it was most likely frustration that after an entire evening at this infernal ball, he was no closer to discerning the real truth about the man claming to be Stephen Deaver.
The man was truly a mystery and Nicholas hated mysteries. Well, of this sort anyway. Everyone, including the best of con men, made mistakes. They told a lie they could not get out of and the entire house of cards they had built fell down around them. But not Stephen. At least not yet.
But when he did? Nicholas would be there.
Moreover, he would be there for Eliza, whose world would be shattered again. And once more, it would, indirectly anyway, be Nicholas' fault. He was already feeling guilty enough about his behavior where Izzy was concerned. He did not need to add to the pile of shame he was collecting where she was concerned.
Over the last severa
l days, Nicholas had treated Eliza badly and she deserved better. She had come to him for help and what had he done? Made her the center of gossip. Treated her as if she didn't truly matter, toyed with her as if this was not her life but some sort of game he meant to win. Had someone done the same to Julia, he would have killed them with his bare hands. Eliza deserved no less of consideration from him. Hell, she was almost like his sister.
Almost. But not quite. Not after that damn plum-colored gown.
And it was that final thought that disquieted him.
Because this evening, resplendent in a gown the color of molten copper that dipped almost scandalously low in the front and laced up in a corset-like fashion in the back, Nicholas was having a very difficult time of equating Julia and Eliza in his mind.
In fact, he very much wished to undo the laces on Eliza's gown and show her just how un-brotherly his thoughts about her had become since his epiphany in Lycosura the previous night. He didn't want to wed her. Hell, he didn't even think he wanted to court her. But he desired her. Of that much, he was certain.
He wanted to bed her. Badly.
And if there was one thing that Nicholas could not fake, it was desire.
Except that desire tended to complicate things. It always did.
And they had a job to do. More specifically, he had a job to do. Find out the true identity of Stephen Deaver. It was what she had asked of him. The only thing Izzy had ever asked, since she had long ago made it quite clear that she did not need him. Or any other man for that matter. But most especially The Bloody Duke.
But Nicholas didn't want Eliza hurt in the process of his discovery. Or shamed to the point where her reputation was in tatters. She deserved a chance to be happy. To find a man and marry him. If Nicholas' actions prevented that, it would be one more thing to feel guilty over where she was concerned. And he had more than enough guilt to last a lifetime.
He had also done her no favors tonight. Over the course of the evening, he had danced with her three times, all but claiming her as his own. He had been unable to stop himself. The two waltzes and the country dance? Well, those he had claimed on her card and could not refuse her later on. But the quadrille a few moments ago? That dance he could not explain. Other than that perhaps he had taken a blow to the head at Gentleman Jackson's earlier in the day that he did not remember and was slowly losing his wits.
That would, of course, serve him right. But he did not think that was the reason.
No, it was because he wanted to bed the chit. And that sort of thinking had to stop. He didn't love her and he certainly wasn't about to wed her. But as of late, each time he saw her, his body grew hard. When he imagined her using that tongue of hers to mate with his rather than berate him, he grew harder still, until he truly did wonder if he might be a candidate for Bedlam.
In the end, Nicholas simply attributed all of his bizarre behavior to guilt. Guilt over Stephen's death so long ago and the way he had failed Eliza over the years. Guilt over what he was doing now, even though she had asked him for his assistance. But merely to discover the truth about her brother. Not to court her. That was all his foolish plan. Mixed with even more guilt about how he might harm her in the end, it was no wonder that his behavior was so damnably odd.
Or that he was having sexual fantasies about a woman who, until a few days ago, wore thick, ugly black glasses and shapeless, pale gowns more suited for use as flour sacks. And now she was not. That part was entirely her fault. Well, maybe not entirely as he had ordered that plum-hued gown from a few evenings ago that had set his blood to boiling. That one might have been his fault. At least a little. But she didn't have to look so damn good in the thing, either. Again, her fault.
His head swimming, Nicholas cut a path through the crowd at the edge of the ballroom that bordered the nine sets of French doors that marked the entrance to the garden beyond. No one questioned him as he moved, and in fact, most people hurried out of his way. He knew his expression was one of dark anger, which suited his purposes just fine. He needed to disappear just as mysteriously as he had appeared earlier - without being announced. Especially if he had any hope of maintaining his reputation once this little farce with Eliza was finished.
He had only taken a few steps outside when he felt her presence behind him, following him like a shadow.
The light scent of lavender that he associated with her floated on the wind, and he could her the slight whisper of her breath, an effect from having been so ill as a child. He didn't think the others who knew her noticed those things, but he did. He always had. It was part of what made him so good at his job. To notice that which others overlooked.
"Hello, Brat."
He didn't wait for her to reply but instead moved farther into the darkness. The garden itself wasn't lit but some diffused light still illuminated the stone terrace steps that led down into the heart of the well-manicured foliage. High above them, a silvery half-moon shone down its sparkling light, casting shadows along the gravel paths. It was enough for him to see by. Enough for Eliza as well.
As children, they had raced along the fields of Langton Abby at the height of summer, three quicksilver streaks in the darkness, one lagging behind the other two but no less determined. They hadn't needed a full moon to feel the cool, dewy grass beneath their feet or slip into the meadow that bordered the creek so that they might listen to the night creatures make a music all of their own. No, two had known and the third had followed. Even then, she had made her own way. He was confident that she would do so now. That was simply his Eliza. Just as she had always been.
Once they were well away from the house, he paused and allowed her to catch up. He heard the short scatter of gravel and knew that her leg must be bothering her a bit. She hadn't shuffled in years, an indication that the last few days had been tiring for her as well.
When she was finally beside him, he offered her his arm in silence and she took it. In truth, he had expected a tongue lashing for his behavior tonight and the few nights previous. He deserved it. Instead, she said nothing, merely walked along beside him as if they were two lovers on an illicit moonlight stroll.
Finally, when they had ventured so far from the house that it was nearly impossible to see in the inky blackness, he pulled them to a stop and with ease, spun her around to face him, his hands grasping her upper arms so that she would not fall on the loose stones. He also did his best not to notice the way her pulse beat rapidly in her throat. Or that she had removed her glasses, allowing him to see her lovely eyes clearly.
He could not want her. He could not hurt her. More over, he could not have her desiring him. That would only lead to disaster. If she spoke words of love and devotion in the next moment, he wasn't certain what he would do. Except possibly become angrier than he already was.
Nicholas needn't have worried, however, as, true to form, Eliza reached out and poked him hard in the chest, knowing instinctively where to find his breastbone beneath the starch of his clothes. For some reason, his anger lessened a bit at her touch.
"I should be furious with you, Nicholas!" she snapped icily. "Going on like that in front of Stephen! As if you are truly besotted with me. Apologizing when you have never done so before." Then she paused and he could feel her straighten, her spine stiffening. And she sniffed indignantly, the saucy wench! "And then I realized what you were about. Planning the end of our relationship even now." He swore he could see her smile, though it appeared brittle in the dim light. "Very clever of you, Nicholas. That is, I suppose why you are The Bloody Duke and the rest of us mere mortals."
"That is one reason." Even now, he couldn't precisely say why he had behaved as he had in front of Stephen. Only that it was imperative that he not lose access to Eliza - or her family. And it had been clear that Stephen had been angry about Nicholas' treatment of Eliza. Too much anger on her brother's part and Nicholas might be forbidden from seeing Eliza again - even though that was unlikely. Few people refused him. Ever.
Still, he could have do
ne it another - or possibly better and less ostentatious - way, he supposed. However that had been the first plan to pop into his mind. He really must be losing his touch. Perhaps it was time to consider retirement. "There are also other reasons, as you well know." Nicholas made certain to adopt a bored tone, wrapping himself in cynicism once more. Before she got too close.
Eliza gave a very unladylike huff of indignation and he knew she saw through him anyway. "Enough of The Bloody Duke, Nick. Please." Then he felt rather than saw her turn away, her shoulders slumping slightly. "I am weary. So very, very weary. The days since Stephen has returned have been exhausting to say the least. If it even is Stephen." She paused and he could hear the question in the silence. "Is it?"
Nicholas sighed, weary himself from the last few days. "Truly? I do not know. I have gathered very little information on him. There is simply none to find. Though rest assured, Brat, that I am trying my very best." He crossed his arms over his chest and then realized the gesture was empty. Eliza could not see him in the thick darkness. "I shall journey to The Stuck Pig in a few days time, as it is the most likely coaching inn he would have stopped at before entering London. Even though we are appearing to court and I do not want to risk damaging that illusion, it is a necessary journey." Then, just because he could - because for some absurd reason he wanted her to act like a typical female for once - he added, "And I do not think anyone would begrudge me a few days in service to my country, after all. Not even my beloved potential bride."
He said the last part with a trace of sarcasm and this time Eliza did reach out and smack him in the chest, clearly frustrated. "Enough with the spy nonsense, Nick," she snapped, her temper rising. "You do not need to pretend with me."
In an instant, the facade fell away, almost like a physical thing. "No, I don't suppose I do." Quietly, Nicholas studied her, with the slightly upturned - some would say almost defiant - set of her chin and the dark anger flashing in her eyes, which had deepened to the color of a stormy sea. She knew him. No other woman did. Not like this, anyway. Instead, they all fell at his feet, practically groveling for a spot in his bed. But not Eliza. Some days, he didn't think she even liked him very much.
The Secret Seduction of Lady Eliza Page 12
