They had been in Nicholas' study that morning. They knew where she had been as well. In their friend's bed. Naked. Well and truly tumbled. Ruined. Yet they did not seem in the least interested in exposing her. Rather, much like Nicholas' valet, they seemed to approve of her in some odd fashion. It was truly puzzling and made her head ache.
Still, she danced with both of them, as well as Lord Hunt and, to her surprise, Lord Radcliffe as well. In fact, some might argue that she was the belle of the ball. However, she secretly wondered if it was being done to distract her from Nicholas' rather conspicuous absence.
Eliza had known he would not be in attendance. Earlier in the afternoon, Nicholas had sent 'round a note indicating that he would be indisposed. She had no idea where he was going, but her instincts told her that it most likely had to do with Stephen. She had planned to ask Nicholas this evening to let the matter drop. That she would no longer stand in the way of his acceptance as her brother. Their conversation that afternoon had done much to assure her of his honorable intentions.
After all, Eliza had been around more than enough men who pretended to care for her, when in fact, they did not. Stephen's concern on her behalf was genuine. She was convinced of that now.
Eliza had hoped to convince Nicholas of the same, but she could not do so if he was not here. And she had a very strong suspicion that she knew where he had gone haring off to - The Stuck Pig. He had been talking for days about visiting the outlying coaching inn, yet he had not done so. Something had most likely prompted him to change his mind. For on the other nights when he had been out conducting his spy activities, he had never once sent a note indicating that he would not attend a function with her. He might be late, but he always appeared. He never once failed to show.
That could only mean that tonight was different. Tonight he was venturing farther outside of Town. She also found it peculiar that his backing out of this dinner party happened to come on the very day both Lord Chillton and Lord Raynecourt had called upon him in the early morning hours. As if the matter was urgent. And the only urgent matter he was investigating at the moment was Stephen.
And he had not told her a bloody thing about his plans!
That, more than anything, was what had infuriated her the most. One night in the man's bed and suddenly he thought she did not have a brain in her head? That they were not in this little adventure together? Even though she was ready to call the whole plan off?
Not to mention that if the man now smiling down at Lady Charlotte, who just happened to also be Lord and Lady Waverly's very eligible eldest daughter, was not Eliza's brother, she no longer wished to know the truth. He bore the hallmarks of her family, ones he could not possibly fake. Moreover, she liked Stephen. His memory might be faulty, but he had a good heart and he was loyal. She was certain he was not here to take advantage of her family. He simply wanted to reclaim his place within it. That was enough for her.
So she would not allow Nicholas to sneak off without her, especially since she was ready to end this charade completely. And she knew precisely where she would find him. Or she thought she did anyway.
With a calculating glance, Eliza looked around the room, searching for either Lord Chillton or Lord Raynecourt. She did not have to look far.
There, in the corner of the room, adopting much the same roguish pose as Nicholas often did, was Lord Raynecourt. And he looked as if he was ready to devour the young and still quite innocent Lady Sarah Tillsbury. Who just happened to be Frost's sister.
Afraid that the men - who were indeed great friends - might come to blows if Frost caught Rayne ogling his sister, Eliza slowly made her way along the edges of the ballroom, well aware that supper would be served soon. If she had any hope of sneaking out, she needed to speak with one of the two men as soon as possible. She refused to go rushing off into the night like a ninny - not to mention putting both her body and her reputation at great risk - if the infuriating man had simply decided to seek entertainment elsewhere that evening. Which she doubted. After all, he was the one who refused to let her leave Town, so she doubted that he had tired of her just yet.
When she reached the couple, Eliza could see the look of relief pass over Lady Sarah's face. The young woman quickly dipped into a curtsey, introductions not necessary since the two families had been friends for many years. "Lady Eliza. It is good of you to come. I was just remarking to Lord Raynecourt that it was a pity that Lord Candlewood was not able to join us. A man like him laid low with a stomach ailment? Truly, one would never think so, but I supposed powerful men such as he take ill, just as the rest of us do."
Eliza cast a look at Lord Raynecourt, who had yet to bow. Then again, she had not curtsied to him either. "Indeed. It truly is a pity." She had worn her glasses this evening, mostly just to be contrary, and now she blinked at the earl from behind the lenses a bit owlishly. Telling him without words that she knew precisely what he was about.
"Lady Eliza." Raynecourt broke protocol by bowing to her first. Eliza returned the curtsey, but she never took her eyes from his face. "I am so glad that the stomach ailment that Lord Candlewood contracted has not affected you as well. Or has it? I am told that whatever he has is quite catching, especially as the pig flies. Or so they say in Italy." He winked at her, a gesture bordering on scandalous since she was all but betrothed to Nicholas. Then he laughed. "The phrase sounds much better in Italian, I assure you." He paused, assessing her. Watching her. As if waiting for her to say something, though she had no idea what.
His last comment had made no sense. Pigs flying? In Italian? Was the earl addled in the head? Was that why he was flirting with Frost's sister as if no harm could possibly come of such an activity?
No, a voice whispered in her mind. He was confirming for her where Nicholas had gone. To The Stuck Pig. Just as she had suspected. Eliza also realized that the earl was giving her a way out of this dinner party. If she wanted it.
It might not be the proper thing to do, but Eliza had long since left proper behind from the moment she had burst into Nicholas' bedchambers like some wild woman. Propriety had flown out the window the moment she had agreed to allow Nicholas to bed her without the bonds of marriage. True propriety had disappeared six years ago on the morning she had looked at the stack of creditor's notes on the silver tray - untouched - outside of her father's study and had decided that she had to act if she wished to keep a roof over her head.
The earl had been away from England for a very long time, and yet she could see in his eyes that he knew. All of it. All of her improper behavior. And Nicholas'. And Raynecourt was still giving her permission to once again break the rules.
"Actually, Lord Raynecourt, I am not feeling quite that well either. I am afraid that I might have caught whatever ailment has struck down Lord Candlewood." Eliza didn't like to lie, but she also knew that there was no other way for her to explain her early departure.
Just as Eliza had hoped, Lady Sarah reacted with the extreme compassion that she was noted for. "Oh, you poor dear!" She grasped Eliza's hand and immediately began tugging her towards a hallway that went God only knew where. "You must lie down immediately!" Then she turned and gave Lord Raynecourt a brief curtsey. "My lord, I am sorry, but you must excuse me. I really need to attend to my friend."
In truth, Eliza had not spent much time with Lady Sarah in a good six years or more. Since well before Stephen had been presumed dead, actually. Now, however, she meekly allowed the other woman to lead her away from the ballroom, Sarah all the while chattering on about how she and Lady Charlotte were friends and knew all of the best places to rest within the Waverly home.
On the way down the hall, presumably towards a salon or drawing room of some type, they encountered Stephen. Eliza had hoped to avoid her brother but this chance encounter might also work in her favor.
As expected, he called out to her, causing both women to stop. "Izzy? What is the matter? Are you ill?" She could see genuine concern etched on his face and once more, she knew she was doing t
he right thing by ending this madness. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him any more than he had been.
"The poor dear is not feeling well," Sarah supplied quickly, making Stephen's frown deepen. "We were just speaking with Lord Raynecourt and it came over her so suddenly. And I am certain you know that Lord Candlewood is also ill." Then she looked at Eliza fondly. "What with being out all last evening comforting our dear Lady Sophia, I am not surprised she took ill. Such things wear one out rather quickly."
"Izzy?" Stephen asked again. "Is that it? Were you out too late last evening?"
Eliza did not wish to lie to her brother. In fact, given the reconciliation they had enjoyed only a few hours ago, it was the last thing she wanted to do. However, she also knew that it was necessary. What if, while at The Stuck Pig, Nicholas stumbled onto some new information about Stephen? About where he had been and what he had been doing for those long six years he had been missing. She no longer wanted to know. In her heart, she wasn't certain that she ever really had.
"I am afraid so, Stephen," she finally said, her voice halting and miserable. Well, the miserable wasn't too far away from the truth. "I was tired earlier and I did not rest. I thought I would be fine, but I am not." She sighed. "All I really wish is to return home."
He nodded. "Very well. Lady Sarah?" He bowed slightly. "Thank you for your help, but I shall see my sister home."
Blast, but that was not the response she had hoped for. "Please, Stephen. You stay and enjoy yourself. I saw you speaking with Lady Charlotte earlier and I have the impression there is interest, at least on your part. I do not wish to harm your chances with her, should it come to that. I also know there are others here with whom you would like to renew your acquaintance."
"I would. Very much so," her brother confirmed, "but you are my sister, Izzy, and you need me. I will not abandon you. Not again."
Beside her, Eliza could see Sarah almost swoon where she stood. This would never do. "Please, Stephen. I am fine. Truly. I shall take the carriage and then send it back. Home is only a block away from here. I know it is improper, but honestly, I can manage." She gave him a small smile. "It is not as if I am a young debutante any longer."
Stephen seemed torn but finally, he nodded. "No, it is not far at all. And I fear that Mama and Papa might both go into the vapors if I disappear, even for the scant amount of time it will take to see you home."
"I am certain we can send one of the Waverly's tigers to accompany her." Sarah offered quickly, her eyes shining in clear admiration of Stephen and his consideration for his sister. "Would that suffice?"
"It would." Stephen nodded, grasping his chin between his thumb and forefinger as he did so. Just as he had so long ago. Before the war.
In Eliza's mind that was the final bit of proof that she needed. This man was her brother. There was no one else he could possibly be.
Then he looked back at Eliza for a moment, obviously still not completely convinced. "If you are certain you can manage on your own, Izzy, I think Lady Sarah's plan an excellent one. Still, I shall go with you if you wish me to. I will not leave you alone again."
"I shall be fine, Stephen. I always am." And Eliza prayed that she would not be struck dead where she stood for lying to her brother. She was anything but fine.
In fact, she was considering doing something extremely improper. And dangerous. However she also felt as if she had no choice. This would not be the first risk she had ever taken in her life. Nor was it likely to be the last. But if she did not go after Nicholas, she - and her entire family - might very well regret it.
The only question was, how would she go about stopping him? Then she remembered that there were few things that Nicholas liked better than seduction. Last night, he had seduced her. Tonight, she would return the favor. Only this time, she had an ulterior motive. She wanted him to stop his investigation into Stephen's identity. She was satisfied, but knowing Nicholas as she did, she was just as certain that he would not be.
Very well. Seduction it would be.
Chapter Eighteen
From his seat near the hearth, Nicholas could observe all of the persons coming and going from the inn's common room. And there were plenty of people from the absolute lowest dregs of humanity to observe. It was yet another reason why he was relieved that his old friend, the Duke of Enwright, had been able to accommodate him for a brief overnight stay at his nearby estate, the perfectly named Fairhaven. Nicholas was afraid that if he was forced to spend the night here in this grubby, wretched inn, his body might never be clean again.
Shortly after he had almost forcibly removed both Frost and Rayne from his study, Nicholas had begun preparing for the short trip north. The ride to the inn was not long, especially on Apollo, but the storm clouds were gathering once more and the heavens threatened to open up and pour rain at any minute. He had learned long ago that traveling in inclement weather was not generally a good idea if it could be avoided, so he had made certain to depart well before the skies darkened further.
Now Nicholas had been at the bloody inn for nearly four hours and still nothing. The common room was emptying as the clock approached midnight and he was about to give up. Outside, he could hear the whistle of the late spring winds, most likely blowing in the rain. If he wanted to make it to the safe confines of Fairhaven before it began to pour, he should depart now.
Except that he could not. Not just yet, at any rate. For in the far corner of the room sat two men, both of the unsavory sort, who were becoming more and more inebriated as the night wore on. Normally, Nicholas would have assumed them nothing more than two local drunkards. Except that one of them, the one a little less foxed, had uttered the name "Underhill" just as Nicholas had been about to depart. Not quite an hour ago.
In the time since, the other man, already well into his cups, had become progressively louder as well. And he had spoken the name "Framingham" along with the word "echo." Alone, those words meant nothing. But all together? They actually meant quite a bit. And Nicholas was not about to leave until he discovered whether or not the two fools knew something of value or whether they were simply spouting nonsense.
He had just asked the serving wench for another tankard of ale - only his second one that evening - when he heard the exterior door of the inn open and then close again quickly, accompanied by a low howl of the wind. Another visitor. He prayed it wasn't some gregarious fool like the last one had been. Managing to put the blithering idiot - who seemed to wish to make Nicholas his new best friend - into a hold designed to render the man unconscious had not been easy. Nor had it been easy to hide his actions from the already suspicious owner of the inn. Or his serving wench of a daughter. Who was more than a little put out with Nicholas already, especially since he had made it clear that he would not bed her.
When the unknown man had slipped into what appeared to be a deep sleep only a scant quarter hour after sitting down at Nicholas' table, it had appeared suspicious to all. However, even though the innkeeper had no idea of Nicholas' true identity, he was also intelligent enough to recognize a man that should not be crossed when he saw one. But not quite intelligent enough, for he, too, began to pester Nicholas with all manner of questions. When Nicholas had uttered the words "bloody duke," however, the innkeeper had quickly disappeared, lugging the sleeping man's body behind him.
The hold, one Nicholas had picked up during his study of the French fighting style known as Savate, was rather effective at putting a man out for several hours. He had hoped to be long gone from this wretched inn by then. But that was before the two fools in the corner had begun speaking up as only drunkards could do.
In truth, Nicholas very much wanted to give up this entire bloody charade and simply court Eliza until the end of the Season when they would amicably part ways. If the man claiming to be Stephen Deaver was not truly Lord Underhill, then Nicholas had no idea who in the bloody hell he truly was. Nor did it possibly matter.
After making the decision to use the pretext of a courtship wi
th Eliza to remain close to the family, Nicholas had begun his own private investigation into the man. Between legitimate sources like the Bow Street Runners and his own, more shadowy connections - including Frost and Rayne - Nicholas had turned up nothing. Not a damnable thing. Which made him wonder if there was anything to uncover at all.
If there was untruth in the man's story, it was likely buried so deep that a lifetime of investigation still might not lead to the truth. In Nicholas' experience, there were times when the truth simply did not wish to be found. Perhaps this was one of those times.
Now, as a shadow fell across the entrance to the common room, Nicholas wondered what sort of fresh hell was about to be unleashed upon him. All he truly wanted to do was go to bed. But then he looked up and saw an all-too-familiar feminine shape in the doorway. And he cursed under his breath. Damn the chit! Would she never do as she was told? Was she looking to either ruin herself or die at the hand of some highwayman? Or worse? If she was, she was doing a bang-up job on both counts.
Then he looked again, and Nicholas felt both his anger and his cock begin to rise.
In a too-tight, too-worn gown, Eliza looked like a whore. A prostitute. In the battered cape she wore, her golden hair peeking out from beneath it like some sort of temptress, she also appeared a part of the very night itself, a goddess sent from Hell to torment him for all of his many sins. Then she pushed her hood back to reveal those flashing turquoise eyes and he knew she wasn't a goddess but rather an avenging angel. And she was intent upon revenge.
"Izzy." The word slipped from his lips before he could even think. "What in God's name are you doing here?" Nicholas kept his voice low, but loud enough so that she could hear him easily as she sauntered across the room, all slink and seductive curves. Not proper at all. Her family would be appalled. Hell, he was appalled! And very, very aroused as well.
The Secret Seduction of Lady Eliza Page 23
