“I will speak with James tomorrow, you best get some sleep.”
Elizabeth’s face blistered with heat. Good Lord, what would he think of her? And worse yet, what would he do? “James will not-not—”
Missy’s countenance softened and a teasing smile transformed her beautiful face to nothing short of breathtaking. “Don’t worry, my dear, my husband is not a violent man. Moreover, he is terribly fond of Lord Creswell, as are we all.”
“Oh no, I didn’t mean—”
The soft lilting sound of Missy’s laughter cut off Elizabeth’s stricken protest. “Be assured, James will know precisely how to handle this situation. He’s a very gifted arbitrator. Jason and Jessica are as malleable as clay in his hands,” she said, speaking of her and James’s two-year-old twins.
Elizabeth smiled faintly. She could well imagine. The earl had that kind of effect on people.
“But I don’t want him to be forced to marry me if he is opposed.”
“The viscount should consider himself very fortunate to have you as his wife.”
Now would be the time to tell Missy about the less than amiable past they shared, but after seeing the hope and confidence in her cousin’s eyes, Elizabeth couldn’t bring herself to heap yet another bit of misery upon her tonight. Perhaps, when the morning dawned clear and bright, her future wouldn’t appear quite so miserable and gray.
~*~*~
Gray skies and a misty rain greeted the morning. Derek didn’t so much mind the gloomy weather for he hadn’t any pressing plans that required him to leave his residence that day.
He was taking breakfast in the dining room when he heard the doorbell chime. Surprised, he shot a glance at the cherry, long-case clock by the far wall. Nine o’clock. Like many of his peers, he owned a well-appointed flat in Mayfair, but he did not normally receive callers before noon. On Sundays, no one called.
A minute later his manservant entered and inquired if he was in for Lord Alex Cartwright and Lord Windmere.
Curious but not alarmed, he instructed Paulson to have the men await him in the drawing room.
When he joined them, ten minutes later, Rutherford prowled the room. Cartwright stood in front of a narrow paned window that stretched the length of wall, his back to him, hands thrust deep into his trouser pockets as he looked out into small yard at the back. Both men turned at his entry.
Taking in the grim set of Cartwright’s mouth and a somber Lord Windmere, Derek immediately evinced this wasn’t to be a pleasure call.
“Good morning, gentlemen. I can see from your expressions you aren’t here for the want of my company.” Derek smiled in an attempt to ease the sudden tension in the room. Surely whatever the news, it couldn’t be all that bad.
Cartwright shook his head, a move that held suppressed fury. “You couldn’t just leave well enough alone could you? Damn it man, why couldn’t you leave her alone when I expressly told you she isn’t the type to dally with.”
Bloody hell, they obviously knew about the kiss. But how? Miss Smith hadn’t seemed the type to run and tell tales the moment his back was turned.
While Derek grappled with just how he should respond, Rutherford stalked toward him, his footsteps muffled by the rug underfoot. He looked menacing and severe. He halted in front of him.
Was he sizing him up? He and Rutherford were approximately the same height, an inch above six feet, and possessed similar frames. In a fight, neither would have an innate advantage.
“You must marry her,” the earl said evenly.
What the devil had she told them?
“She’s demanding I marry her because I kissed her?”
“Your embrace with Miss Smith did not go unobserved,” Cartwright practically growled from behind Rutherford.
“Observed by whom?” Derek would not begin to panic just yet. Things may not be looking altogether rosy but surely they couldn’t have already reached the catastrophic stage.
“At present, Lady Danvers doesn’t know it was you with Miss Smith in the garden,” Rutherford said grimly. “Despite her advancing years, her hearing is still as sharp as ever and it would appear you failed to keep your goings on strictly between Miss Smith and yourself. I don’t believe I need to tell you how much this has distressed my wife.”
Derek suppressed the groan that had built up in his throat and the string of curses that sprang to his lips. The whole bloody thing was a mess.
While he admitted Elizabeth Smith heated his blood like no woman had in quite some time, that didn’t mean he wanted to take her as his wife. To be forced to do so was even worse.
“I don’t even know the woman.” It was a weak argument but was all he had to offer.
“Well it appears you’ve received enough intimate knowledge of her to see her ruined.” Cartwright ran his hand through his hair. “In any case, whether you know her sufficiently or not, you have to marry. She’s in this fix because of you.”
Like hell she is!
“I’ll have you know, she was the one who followed me out to the garden. She was the one who sought me out. She is—” Derek broke off.
She’d set out to trap him.
Following him out to the garden. Crashing into him. Although, he’d known she had deliberately sought him out, he hadn’t known how far she intended to take it. She must have known the dowager had been there, ears primed to hear all Miss Smith had set in motion.
The last time he’d had to deal with a female this treacherous and conniving, it had cost his father one thousand pounds to avoid the threat of a scandal. What would this one cost him today? His freedom?
“I did not pursue her. She pursued me.”
“Whether she pursued you or you pursued her is irrelevant. What matters is that you have a duty to her now. She is my wife’s cousin and under our care while she resides with us.” It was clear Rutherford would not countenance a refusal, his voice firm and final.
The unwelcome and unfamiliar feeling of helplessness made his limbs feel heavy and useless. He’d prided himself as being a man who solved problems, a man who remained level-headed in trying situations. At the moment, he felt as if he’d been knocked sideways and then pushed into a corner as the walls closed in around him.
Without saying a word, he crossed the room, picked up a glass tumbler from the sideboard and poured himself two fingers of whiskey. He downed it like a man who’d walked the length of the Sahara Desert without a drop of water. The burn in his throat remained when he turned back to face Rutherford and Cartwright.
“So where am I to find my dearest betrothed?”
Chapter Four
As good as her word, Missy had immediately informed her husband of the situation. Precisely what had occurred thereafter, Elizabeth wasn’t certain. No doubt it entailed a talk with the viscount, and it appeared the earl had wasted no time about it because Lord Creswell arrived at the house just before midday the following day requesting an audience with her.
With more than a little reluctance, Elizabeth entered the morning room. The windows were abundant there, permitting lots of natural light. Truth be told, she was terrified. Her terror grew along with an engulfing dismay when he turned from the window to acknowledge her.
Her mind went blank for an instant. Her breath hitched at the sight of him. She had only seen him in his evening black and whites. She hadn’t imagined less formal clothes would come close to doing him—his body—justice. She was wrong.
Clad in tan trousers, a cream waistcoat piped around the hem and collar and a sage single-breasted jacket, the term dashing was too staid a word to describe the viscount. Everything about him was male; his broad shoulders, the breadth of his chest, the sheer strength of him that one didn’t need to witness to know he possessed in abundance.
While she tried not to be obvious in her admiration, he watched her, still and silent. Elizabeth had never been on the receiving end of a stare like the one he submitted her to. His attire may have consisted of warm soothing neutrals, but his eyes—said to be mirrors to the soul—were the cold of icebergs and north England winters.