Part 23 (1/2)
Elizabeth let herself be drawn forward a few steps and hesitated. ”This is a mistake. Everyone will see us and think we've started it allover again-”
”No, they won't,” he promised. ”There's a rumor spreading like fire in there that I tried to get you in my clutches two years ago, but without a t.i.tle to tempt you I didn't have a chance. Since acquiring a t.i.tle is a holy crusade for most of them, they'll admire your sense. Now that I have a t.i.tle, I'm expected to use it to try to succeed where I failed before-as a way of bolstering my wounded male pride.” Reaching up to brush a wisp of hair from her soft cheek, he said, ”I'm sorry. It was the best I could do with what I had to work with-we were seen together in compromising circ.u.mstances. Since they'd never believe nothing happened, I could only make them think I was in pursuit and you were evading.”
She flinched from his touch but didn't shove his hand away. ”You don't understand. What's happening to me in there is no less than I deserve. I knew what the rules were, and I broke them when I stayed with you at the cottage. You didn't force me to stay. I broke the rules, and-”
”Elizabeth,” he interrupted in a voice edged with harsh remorse, ”if you won't do anything else for me, at least stop exonerating me for that weekend. I can't bear it. I exerted more force on you than you understand.”
Longing to kiss her, Ian had to be satisfied instead with trying to convince her his plan would work, because he now needed her help to ensure its success. In a teasing voice he said, ”I think you're underrating my gift for strategy and subtlety. Come and dance with me, and I'll prove to you how easily most of the male minds in there have been manipulated.”
She nodded, but without any real interest or enthusiasm, and allowed him to guide her back through the French doors.
Despite his confidence, moments after they entered the ballroom Ian noticed the increasing coldness of the looks being directed at them, and he knew a moment of real alarm-until he glanced at Elizabeth as he took her in his arms for a waltz and realized the cause of it. ”Elizabeth,” he said in a low, urgent voice, gazing down at her bent head, ”stop looking meek! Put your nose in the air and cut me dead or flirt with me, but do not on any account look humble, because these people will interpret it as guilt.”
Elizabeth, who had been staring at his shoulder, as she'd done with her other dancing partners, tipped her head back and looked at him in confusion. ”What?”
Ian's heart turned over when the chandeliers overhead revealed the wounded look in her glorious green eyes. Realizing logic and lectures weren't going to help her give the performance he badly needed her to give, he tried the tack that had, in Scotland, made her stop crying and begin to laugh. He tried to tease her. Casting about for a subject, he said quickly, ”Belhaven is certainly in fine looks tonight -pink satin pantaloons. I asked him for the name of his tailor so that I could order a pair for myself.”
Elizabeth looked at him as if he'd taken leave of his senses; then his warning about looking meek hit home, and she began to understand what he wanted her to do. That added to the comic image of Ian's tall, masculine frame in those absurd pink pantaloons enabled her to manage a weak smile. ”I have greatly admired those pantaloons myself,” she said. ”Will you also order a yellow satin coat to complement the look?”
He smiled. ”I thought-puce.”
”An unusual combination,” she averred softly, ”but one that I am sure will make you the envy of all who behold you.”
Pride swelled in him at how valiantly she was rallying. To stop himself from saying things he wanted to say to her tomorrow, in private, Ian looked around for another topic to keep her talking. He mentioned the first one he saw. ”Am I to a.s.sume the Valerie I was introduced to earlier was the Valerie of our greenhouse notes.” He realized his mistake the instant her eyes clouded over and she glanced in the direction he'd looked.
”Yes.” ”Shall I ask Willington to clear his ballroom so you have the requisite twenty paces? Naturally, I'll stand as your second.”
Elizabeth drew a shaky breath, and a smile curved her lips. ”Is she wearing a bow?”
Ian looked and shook his head. ”I'm afraid not.” ”Does she have an earring?”
He glanced again and frowned. ”I think that's a wart.” Her smile finally reached her eyes. ”Its not a large target, but I suppose-”
”Allow me,” he gravely replied, and she laughed.
The last strains of their waltz were dying away, and as they left the dance floor Ian watched Mondevale making his way toward the Townsendes, who'd returned to the ballroom.
”Now that you're a marquess,” Elizabeth asked, ”will you live in Scotland or in England?”
”I only accepted the t.i.tle, not the money or the lands,” he replied absently, watching Mondevale. ”I'll explain everything to you tomorrow morning at your house. Mondevale is going to ask you to dance as soon as we reach the Townsendes, so listen closely-I'm going to ask you to dance again later. Turn me down.”
She sent him a puzzled look, but she nodded. ”Is there anything else?” she asked when he was about to relinquish her to her friends.
”There's a great deal else, but it will have to wait until tomorrow.”
Mystified, Elizabeth turned her attention to Viscount Mondevale.
Alex watched the byplay between Elizabeth and Ian but her mind was elsewhere. While the couple danced, Alex had told her husband exactly what she thought of Ian Thornton who'd first ruined Elizabeth's reputation and now deceived her into thinking he was still a man of very modest means. Instead of agreeing that Thornton was completely without principles, Jordan had calmly insisted that Ian intended to set matters aright in the morning, and then he'd made her, and his grandmother ,promise not to tell Elizabeth anything until Ian had been given the opportunity to do so himself. Dragging her thoughts back to the ballroom, Alex hoped more than anything that Ian Thornton would do nothing more to hurt her good friend.
By the end of the evening a majority of the guests at the Willington ball had drawn several conclusions: first, that Ian Thornton was definitely the natural grandson of the Duke of Stanhope (which everyone claimed to have always believed); second, that Elizabeth Cameron had very probably rebuffed his scandalous advances two years ago (which everyone claimed to have always believed); third, that since she had rejected his second request for a dance tonight, she might actually prefer her former suitor Viscount Mondevale (which hardly anyone could really believe).
Chapter 22.
Bentner carried a covered platter of scones into the morning room and placed it before Elizabeth and Alex, who were seated at the table discussing last night's ball. Lucinda, who rarely ate breakfast, was sitting upon a narrow window cus.h.i.+on, calmly applying herself to her needlework while she listened to their conversation.
The morning room, like all the other rooms in the s.p.a.cious house on Promenade Street. was furnished in what Julius Cameron called ”serviceable colors”-browns and grays. This morning, however, there was a bright rainbow of color in the center of it where the girls were seated at a table covered with a maize linen cloth, Alex in a dusty-pink day dress, Elizabeth in a mint-green morning gown.
Normally, Bentner would have beamed approvingly at the pretty portrait the girls made, but this morning, as he put out b.u.t.ter and jam, he had grim news to impart and a confession to make. As he swept the cover off the scones he gave his news and made his confession.
”We had a guest last night,” he told Elizabeth. ”I slammed the door on him.”
”Who was it?” ”A Mr. Ian Thornton.”
Elizabeth stifled a horrified chuckle at the image that called to mind, but before she could comment Bentner said fiercely, ”I regretted my actions afterward! I should have invited him inside, offered him refreshment, and slipped some of that purgative powder into his drink. He'd have had a bellyache that lasted a month.”
”Bentner,” Alex sputtered. ”you are a treasure!” ”Do not encourage him in these fantasies,” Elizabeth warned wryly. ”Bentner is so addicted to mystery novels that he occasionally forgets that what one does in a novel cannot always be done in real life. He actually did a similar thing to my uncle last year.”
”Yes, and he didn't return for six months,” Bentner told Alex proudly.
”And when he does come,” Elizabeth reminded him with a frown to sound severe, ” he refuses to eat or drink anything.”
”Which is why he never stays long,” Bentner countered, undaunted. As was his habit whenever his mistress's future was being discussed, as it was now, Bentner hung about to make suggestions as they occurred to him. Since Elizabeth had always seemed to appreciate his advice and a.s.sistance, he found nothing odd about a butler sitting down at the table and contributing to the conversation when the only guest was someone he'd known since she was a girl.
”It's that odious Belhaven we have to rid you of first,” Alexandra said, returning to their earlier conversation. ”He hung about last night, glowering at anyone who might have approached you.” She shuddered. ”And the way he ogles you. It's revolting. It's worse than that; he's almost frightening.”
Bentner heard that, and his elderly eyes grew thoughtful as he recalled something he'd read about in one of his novels. ”As a solution it is a trifle extreme,” he said. ”but as a last resort it could work.”
Two pairs of eyes turned to him with interest, and he continued, ”I read it in The Nefarious Gentleman. We would have Aaron abduct this Belhaven in our carriage and bring him straightaway to the docks, where we'll sell him to the press gangs.”
Shaking her head in amused affection, Elizabeth said, ”I daresay he wouldn't just meekly go along with Aaron.”
”And I don't think,” Alex added, her smiling gaze meeting Elizabeth's, ”a press gang would take him. They're not that desperate.”
”There's always black magic,” Bentner continued. ”In Deathly Endeavours there was a perpetrator of ancient rites who cast an evil spell. We would require some rats' tails, as I recall, and tongues of-”
”No,” Elizabeth said with finality. ”-lizards,” Bentner finished determinedly. ”Absolutely not,” his mistress returned.
”And fresh toad mold, but procuring that might be tricky. The novel didn't say how to tell fresh from-”
”Bentner!” Elizabeth exclaimed, laughing. ”You'll cast us all into a swoon if you don't desist at once.”
When Bentner had padded away to seek privacy for further contemplation of solutions, Elizabeth looked at Alex. ”Rats' tails and lizards' tongues,” she said, chuckling. ”No wonder Bentner insists on having a lighted candle in his room all night.”
”He must be afraid to close his eyes after reading such things,” Alex agreed, but her thoughts had returned to last night. ”One thing is certain-I was correct about having you go out in society. Last night was much harder than I imagined, but the rest will be easy. I have no doubt you'll be receiving offers within a sennight, so what we must do is decide whom you like and wish to encourage. I think,” she continued gently, ”that if you still want Mondevale-”
Elizabeth shook her head emphatically. ”I don't want anyone, Alex. I mean that.”