Let Me Be The One Page 8

  More to herself than to her companions, Elizabeth said, "It seems odd they would come this way."

  "We did, didn't we?" Northam said.

  A small crease appeared between Elizabeth's brows. She had the impression that Northam meant his statement as something more than a mere observation, as if the arrival of the others was no mere chance occurrence. When the baron's party had crossed half the distance toward them, Elizabeth steadied Becket. For no reason that she could determine, Battenburn suddenly veered to his right and headed toward the stable. The others in his group responded in kind, taking the sharp turn in direction with rather less skill than the baron had demonstrated on his mount.

  "I believe they are playing at following the leader," said Elizabeth.

  Northam and the others did not disabuse her of that notion. She was correct, after a fashion. Elizabeth Penrose seemed to have no idea that she had been the leader. "We may as well set our own pace," Northam said, bringing his mare around. "We are sadly out of the chase now."

  "There's still the matter of my shilling," Southerton said, pointing at Eastlyn.

  Before the marquess could reply, Elizabeth held up her hand. "Oh, I beg you, please allow me to settle the matter as you asked. I declare the race a tie and will give you each a shilling upon our return." She saw immediately that the men were inordinately pleased by her decision, and she could not help but laugh at the sly, mischievous exchange between them. It was not as if Northam had not warned her. "I take it you two have been quite successful in emptying the pockets of women in this manner for some time. It is really too bad of you."

  Southerton nodded agreeably. "We are scoundrels, Lady Elizabeth. It is just as well you know the truth at the outset."

  "The trick," Northam said, a wry twist to his mouth, "is to pay them no attention."

  "And you?" she asked. "Do you count yourself as one of them?"

  "Most definitely. But I will not be ignored."

  Elizabeth's beautifully arched brows lifted a fraction. It occurred to her to wonder how she had come to this pass. In reluctantly accepting the attentions of one, it seemed she had come under the scrutiny of all. She could only think it was a fortunate thing that Mr. Marchman's business had taken him off. She was quite certain she could not have managed a fourth pair of eyes watching her.

  Contrary to Northam's last words, Elizabeth deliberately turned away from him. She heard him chuckle under his breath and ignored this also."I understand, Lord Southerton, that a snuffbox in your possession has come up missing. Lady Battenburn is distressed that it might have been stolen."

  Southerton waved that concern aside. "I never suggested such. Indeed, I had not entertained the notion myself. I hope you will do whatever you can to influence Lady Battenburn that this is not the case."

  "More likely he misplaced the thing," said Eastlyn. "It will turn up directly."

  "Which is precisely why I mentioned it to the baroness. In the event that it is discovered following my departure, it can be returned to me."

  "Of course," said Elizabeth. "It is of some sentimental value, I gather."

  Southerton nodded. "It belonged to my grandfather."

  "Then, save for finding the box, I don't know what I can do to ease Louise's distress. You'll let us know, won't you, if the box is recovered elsewhere?"

  "Of course."

  Eastlyn removed his hat long enough to rake back his chestnut hair. "I hadn't considered the possibility of theft myself," he said, thoughtful now."Plain to see why it would occur to Lady Battenburn, though. This rascal, the one they call the Gentleman Thief in the Gazette, could be in our midst. Stands to reason with the plethora of activity in the country estates right now, he would move from London to where the pickings are more to his fancy."

  Southerton considered this. "The Gentleman Thief, eh? It bears some thinking. He is credited with lifting Lady Carver's diamond brooch at the Winthrop ball last winter. As I understand it, Lady Carver was wearing the brooch at the time." In deference to Elizabeth's presence, the viscount did not laugh and was careful not to catch the eye of either Eastlyn or North. It was known to each of them, as well as the ton, that the lady was possessed of such an ample bosom, the thief could have found shelter beneath it for the entire evening without fear of discovery. When Southerton was certain the urge for ribald humor had passed him by, he met Elizabeth's eyes and saw they were troubled. "Do not concern yourself," he said. "The box will reappear. It is highly unlikely the Gentleman Thief is among Battenburn's guests."

  "I hope you are right," Elizabeth said softly.

  Northam moved abreast of her and explained to the others, "Lady Elizabeth was responsible for writing out the invitations. No doubt she believes it makes her accountable for the thief's behavior, if it should be discovered there really is a thief at Battenburn. The idea that it is this particular Gentleman Thief is fanciful, I think. There are more likely suspects."

  Elizabeth bristled. "I take it you mean the servants. That is very unfair of you, my lord."

  Northam took no offense. "Not unfair; merely a practical observation. I would be surprised if Lady Battenburn has not already called the staff into account and ordered a search of their quarters." One of his dark brows kicked up as he regarded Elizabeth's faint flush. "Aaah, then she has done so, and you were the one charged with communicating this unpleasantness to the staff."

  "I spoke with Jennings," she said quietly. "As butler, it became his unpleasant task."

  Southerton sighed. "I regret I mentioned the matter of the snuffbox at all. It seems to have caused an inordinate amount of trouble."

  Eastlyn chuckled, pointing a finger at him. "And you'll look every bit the cake when it turns up in your St. James residence. Don't think we won't have some fun with you then."

  Northam saw that Elizabeth did not share their humor. He changed the subject. "Did you notice, South, that we were observed during the hunt from the parapet? I believe Lady Powell was among those watching. She would have had no trouble picking you out on that spawn of Satan."

  Southerton snorted. "I see you are bent on having fun with me now, but please do not disparage this fine animal." He patted the neck of the great black beast he was riding. His mount's nature was in every way the opposite of his imposing size and strength. Under Southerton's attention the stallion shook his head and showed off his thick mane. "Griffin has tender feelings and a gentle temperament." He looked up at the parapet and saw Lady Powell was leaning forward through a notch in the wall. He recognized the instrument in her hand as a spyglass. "Lord," he said under his breath, "she is watching me." Southerton smiled wanly, still not certain he wanted to encourage her interest.

  Elizabeth raised her own face to the roof. This time she did not wave. "It must be a splendid view."

  Northam was struck by this. "Do you mean to say you have never been up there?"

  "Never."

  "Then we should—"

  She stopped him, shaking her head firmly. "If you mean to include me, then I must disabuse you of that notion."

  Eastlyn glanced up and saw Lady Powell's spyglass was still riveted on them. "I shouldn't wonder if she topples head over bucket," he observed mildly. "Quite a distance to the ground." He looked back at Elizabeth. "Do you have some fear of heights?"

  "No," she said with a certain ironic nuance in her voice. "A fear of falling." Elizabeth did not miss Eastlyn's stricken look or the way his dark eyes darted to her hip. She would not let him be embarrassed for inadvertently calling attention to her infirmity."It would be so much easier if people would simply ask what happened. One assumes after a while that everyone knows, then someone, like yourself, steps into it and reminds me that my ungainly gait is often a matter of speculation. On no account should you be chagrined. It is a simple enough tale: I fell from the ladder in the library at Rosemont. It was an accident that did not need to happen, and would not have happened if I had shown any patience. I did not fall far, but I landed hard and awkwardly. It has been five years and t
he bones have set as they will." She shrugged. "I do not climb ladders or step out onto parapets and I am not in demand as a dance partner, but this, perhaps, is fortunate, since I was ever at cross purposes with my dancing master. It is more important to me that my fears have not prevented me from riding and for that I am grateful."

  "As am I," Eastlyn said. It was not gallantry that gave rise to the comment, or the need to make some amends, but the simple expression of sincerity. He offered the ultimate compliment. "You are a bruising rider, Lady Elizabeth."

  Though he spoke no more than the truth, Elizabeth could feel herself flushing. "Perhaps you would allow me the opportunity to win back my shilling." With no more warning than that, she and Becket were off like a shot in the direction of the stable.

  * * *

  Lady Battenburn rested her head against the back of the tub. A folded towel supported her nape. Her throat was exposed and droplets of water had pooled in the hollow at its base. Ribbons of steam spiraled from the tub. Her fair skin glowed in the candlelight like the petals of a rose damp with morning dew. Her eyes were closed, the dark lashes making faint shadows on her cheeks.

  "I noticed your dance card was filled this evening," she said. "That is certainly a good sign."

  Elizabeth sat in the same wing chair she had occupied the previous night. She had removed her slippers and rested her heels on the stool. Her toes twitched inside her stockings. She stretched and curled deliberately, easing the ache in her feet. "It is a sign they feel pity for me," she said. "This afternoon I had cause to tell Eastlyn the story of how I was injured. Lord Northam and Southerton heard it also. I would not put too much stock in their attentions this evening."

  Lady Battenburn pooh-poohed this comment with a dilatory wave of her hand. "It was not only those three who attended you. Why, you danced with Rutherford, Lord Heathering, Framingham, and..." Her voice trailed off. "I shall have to review your dance card to refresh my memory, the list was so long. I do not believe you completed a single set with Harrison. He sulked in the card room again, I think."

  "Hardly sulking. He must have been relieved not to do his duty dance with me." In any event, the baron needed no encouragement to retire to the card room. "As for the others who asked me to dance, they were merely following in Eastlyn's wake. The marquess and his friends set certain expectations without giving voice to a single word. I said as much to Lord Northam tonight, but he was having none of it."

  "I am not surprised, since it was very nearly insulting for you to have said so." Louise touched a finger to her mouth and tapped her lips lightly. "It is too bad Eastlyn is leaving on Friday. I must say I was devastated by the news. He will miss the treasure hunt, and I had thought after seeing you with him on the dance floor that I would make you his partner."

  Then it was a very good thing the marquess was leaving. "I think if you set your mind to it, you can make a proper match of Lady Powell and Lord Southerton. There is interest there, to be sure."

  Louise would not be moved from her course. She flicked water in Elizabeth's direction, not caring that she made the carpet damp. "What about the earl? He rode with you at the hunt." When Elizabeth did not reply, the baroness thrust out her lower lip. "You intend to be difficult, don't you? Then I am going to concentrate my efforts on bringing Northam around. You should do the same, Libby. Harrison says the earl would make a most suitable partner for you."

  "Are you looking for me to leave?" Elizabeth asked.

  Louise's lashes flew open. Her head swiveled in Elizabeth's direction and she took measure of the seriousness of the question. "Leave? I do hope you know by now that it is impossible for you to leave us. Harrison and I could not possibly countenance such a thing. It is only that we are trying to set you up properly. It is fitting that you take a husband, Libby. You can leave our nest, as it were, and still be under our wing."

  The stool tipped as Elizabeth stood with a speed and force that spoke to her agitation. She made no effort to right it before she turned her back on Louise and crossed the room to the window. Had she always known this day would come? she wondered. She didn't like to think so."It is calculating," she said quietly.

  "Of course it is," Louise said flatly. "How naive you would be if you believed otherwise. Proposals invariably turn on matters of mutual benefit. Money. Title. Power. Influence. These things are always considered. Love matches, to the extent they exist at all, are formed when the interests of all parties are in equilibrium."

  "That is very cynical."

  "It is true."

  Elizabeth pressed her forehead to a windowpane. The glass was cool against her skin. "I do not think I can do it."

  "What's that?" Louise sat up in the tub. The towel behind her neck slipped into the water. She retrieved it and slapped it on the carpet with all the flair of laying down a gauntlet.

  The sound startled Elizabeth and she spun around.

  "Speak up, Elizabeth," Louise said sternly. "You know I cannot abide mulishness."

  Elizabeth's nostrils flared slightly as she took a steadying breath. She let it out slowly, calming herself so she could think clearly. "I said, I do not think I can do it."

  "Do what?" Louise exclaimed. "Pray, do not be such a child. There is nothing for you to do. Northam will be brought around, just as I said. It shall all be accomplished so skillfully that he will think it was his idea. Men really have no sense of how they are led about and it would only subvert our interests to rub their noses in it. You will leave the particulars up to me. I shall see to everything."

  Elizabeth knew Louise thought this settled the matter. She had only one card to play. "My father will—"

  "Will be delighted," said Louise. "Oh, that may be putting too pretty a bow on the thing, but you take my meaning. He will not protest, Elizabeth, and indeed, he may be relieved. The opportunity for you to begin a family of your own will offer him some respite, will it not?"

  Chilled of a sudden, her face drained of all color, Elizabeth moved away from the window. Even knowing the answer, she forced herself to ask, "You have spoken to him of this?"

  "Corresponded only. Not the particulars, naturally, but the idea of it all. I have leave to act as I think is best." Louise's voice took on a husky, soothing subtlety. "Poor Libby. Is it really so bad? Or is it just that you had permitted yourself to believe you held the reins of your own fate? One does not, you know. It is the nature of fate that it is done to you, not by you. Surely you can find some cause to rejoice that it is Northam that has been chosen. Harrison had been considering Mr. Rutherford, but there is only the slightest chance he will inherit someday. His prospects are little better than Mr. Marchman's."

  Elizabeth pressed one hand to her temple. Her head felt as if it had been stuffed with cotton batting. Louise's plan surpassed anything she had considered in regard to her future. That her father had been in agreement was not in itself surprising; that he had been apprised of this turn was.

  "It is all rather too much, isn't it?" Louise asked. She felt at a loss herself. It was difficult to console Elizabeth from her bath. "Get me my robe, dear. There's a good girl. You must know that I have the very best intentions where you are concerned. Have I not considered your feelings in so many ways over the years? But you are six and twenty, Elizabeth, and while the existence of your limp is unenviable, it is not tragic. It was not meant to protect you from the circumstances of living your life." Louise rose gracefully from the tub and slipped into the robe Elizabeth held out to her. She belted it tightly about her waist and the material clung tenaciously to her damp and voluptuous curves. "Is there someone else, Libby? Someone else who has struck you as more fitting? I have despaired of seeing you catch anyone's eye. You are so very good at keeping suitors at a distance."

  Elizabeth righted the overturned footstool. "I don't know what you mean." But she did, and she knew Louise knew it. Elizabeth almost wished the baroness would take her to task for her lie. She could accept these small cruelties. It was the little kindnesses she found unbearable. In
the face of Louise's tactical silence, Elizabeth said, "No. There is no one else."

  Louise nodded, pleased with this confirmation. "I observed you from the parapet this afternoon. It seemed that you engaged in a small flirtation with the earl. Did I mistake that?"

  For a moment Elizabeth thought she had been spied in the act of returning Northam's kiss. The memory of his mouth on hers, her tongue against his lips, stirred a response that ran under the surface of her skin from the back of her neck all the way to her toes. Reason asserted itself, and she suppressed the memory and the stirrings. It was not the kiss that had been seen, but her playful, spontaneous act of knocking Northam's hat off his head. He had run her to ground in the woods, and while Louise couldn't know for certain that anything untoward had occurred there, her fanciful, romantic, and ultimately shrewd notions were filling in for the facts she lacked.

  Elizabeth wanted to reach back in time and rub out a moment's recklessness. Regret nearly stilled her heart. At her sides her knuckles were white. She came to awareness gradually and realized that Louise was speaking to her again.

  "It is too bad that Northam's friends followed you into the woods. Harrison had cause to curse his regrettable luck that he could not have arrived sooner."

  Elizabeth's palms were clammy. She resisted the urge to open her fists and wipe them in the folds of her aqua silk gown. "Do you mean to say the baron and his friends deliberately followed us?"

  Louise thought she would lose all patience with Elizabeth's obtuseness. "I mean exactly that. If you are to be compromised, then it should be the baron who finds you and demands satisfaction on behalf of your father. It does no good at all for Northam's friends to come upon the scene first and drive you out as if they were beating rabbits from the thicket."