Educating Elizabeth (12 page)

"I assure you that I have no intention of spoiling Mary's London Season." Elizabeth hesitated, as her mother showed no reaction to her conciliatory words. "I'm more concerned with providing continuing care for Michael."

"Michael is not your concern. I had hoped that by lowering yourself to occupy the duke's bed, you might have adopted a little humility and respect for your elders." She flapped her lace handkerchief in Elizabeth's direction. "Instead, you still pretend to be better than us. I can only wonder how the duke puts up with you."

Elizabeth clamped down on her anger. "Mother, I'm not the duke's mistress. We have come to a mutually acceptable business arrangement. It's true that I'm living in his house and working for him, but not in the capacity of his mistress."

"Ha! I'm not a fool. Do you expect me to believe that the notorious Duke of Diable Delamere can keep his hands off you?" Mrs. Forester snorted. "I grant that you are not much to look at, Elizabeth, but the duke is not known for being particularly fastidious."

Elizabeth pressed her lips firmly together and exhaled through her nose. "May we get back to the subject of Michael? With my salary from the duke, I will be able to pay for his care."

Elizabeth opened her reticule and withdrew a small purse of money. She had reluctantly decided to squander a small part of her earnings to bribe her mother. Mrs. Forester's eyes gleamed, her fingers uncurled, and she attempted to snatch the money from Elizabeth's grasp.

Elizabeth refused to release the purse until her mother looked her in the eye. "I've engaged a nurse to come in during the day and care for Michael." She passed a sheaf of papers across with the money. "The man I hired, Sergeant Jack Llewelyn, is an ex-army man and his references are excellent."

She closed her bag with a decisive snap. "Understand me, mother. I will pay Jack Llewelyn's salary and he will report to me. I would hate to think that any money I gave him to aid Michael would be used for any other purpose."

Mrs. Forester returned the papers she hadn't bothered to read. As she watched her mother secrete the money in her pocket with all the care of a squirrel storing nuts, it occurred to Elizabeth that, if her mother caused trouble, she could also threaten the woman with the duke's intervention. Emboldened by this thought, she gave her mother a brilliant smile.

"I promise not to sully Mary's ears with any details of my supposedly degenerate life. I will simply tell her the truth: that I'm employed by the duke and need to reside at his house. She is used to my being away helping Mr. Forester's acquaintances, so why let her think this is any different?"

Mrs. Forester sipped at her tea. "All right, Elizabeth, I will make Jack Llewelyn welcome and ensure that no one interferes with his duties." She brought her napkin to her pursed lips and dabbed at them. "Although why you should feel it necessary to waste your ill-gotten money on a helpless cripple is beyond me. But you have never been rational on that subject now, have you?"

Elizabeth's hands clenched into fists. "That helpless cripple is your son. How can you speak of Michael like that when he has served his King and his country?"

"I tell anyone who inquires that he is dead. Better that he had died than come back as he did."

Her mother's callousness shocked her, but she refused to let it ruin her sense of achievement. For the first time in her life she had a modicum of control over her mother. It was an exhilarating feeling and one she refused to relinquish even as her mother set about her favorite occupation of bewailing her fate and belittling Elizabeth.

Elizabeth's patience was rewarded when Mary arrived back from her walk, a becoming color on her cheeks and a warm welcome for Elizabeth despite her mother's dark looks. Mrs. Forester revived sufficiently to order more tea and Elizabeth settled down for a comfortable coze with her half-sister, who was full of stories about her upcoming debut.

Even as Elizabeth enjoyed her sister's chatter, she could not help but wonder how Mr. Forester intended to pay for Mary's debut. She knew from her perusal of the ladies' journals that a London Season was ruinously expensive. As the tea arrived, Elizabeth resolved not to aggravate her mother by asking such an indelicate question. Her instincts told her she would be shown the door whatever the duke might have to say about it.

"Elizabeth? Have you returned for good?" Mary asked as she handed Elizabeth a fresh cup of tea and a plate of dainty pastries. "Mama will not tell me anything. It is most vexing."

"Unfortunately, I cannot remain here." Elizabeth smiled. "I've secured paid employment with the Duke of Diable Delamere." Elizabeth gave her mother a bland look. "Mother has given me permission to visit with you, once a week. And, since the duke has also agreed to allow me the afternoon off, I suspect that you will soon grow bored of seeing me."

"Oh never, never," Mary cried and flung her arms around Elizabeth's neck. Elizabeth returned the hug and ignored her mother's frown when Mary released her. Her sister was as sweet as she looked and always eager to see the best in everyone.

For once, Elizabeth was glad that Mary's innocence protected her from delving deeper into Elizabeth's true purpose at the duke's. It amazed Elizabeth that Mary had turned out so well considering the example set by her parents. It seemed as though she had inherited her father's charm without his deceit and her mother's beauty without her shallowness. Elizabeth prayed that, whatever scheme Mr. Forester had hatched to enable Mary to have a London Season, it would prove successful. She would hate to see her sister disappointed.

"Oh, Elizabeth, I meant to tell you when I came in," Mary exclaimed. "I spied that nice red-headed man who accompanied you shopping outside our door in a carriage with a crest on the side." She clasped her hands to her bosom and heaved a dramatic sigh. "Is he the duke? He looked most amiable and bowed to me as I ascended the steps."

"That is Mr. Nicholas Gallion, a relative of the duke's and another of his employees. He offered to accompany me here and see me safely home."

Mary looked disappointed. "Mama informed me that the duke is a widower and has an immense fortune. I'm sure he must be on the look out for another wife. He must be so lonely." Her gaze became pensive. "Wouldn't it be wonderful if he took one look at me and fell head over heels in love?" She clasped her hands and twirled about on the faded carpet, her pale lilac skirts floating around her like silken flower petals.

Elizabeth tried to look encouraging. Gervase would be regarded as quite a matrimonial catch for a seventeen-year-old, but Elizabeth couldn't imagine him falling in love with Mary. She was far too young and sweet for a man of the duke's forbidding, capricious nature and sharp intelligence. She suspected he would grow bored with Mary within a week and then scolded herself for her uncharitable thoughts.

"How old is the duke, Elizabeth?" Mary said. "And is he as handsome as Mr. Gallion?" Mary danced across and squeezed into the seat beside Elizabeth.

"I believe the duke is generally regarded as a handsome man and I understand his age to be four and thirty this year," Elizabeth replied primly and then almost laughed at Mary's look of horror.

"He is positively ancient???how can he possibly be handsome if he is so old?"

Unbidden, Elizabeth pictured the duke's naked, muscled chest and the crisp feel of his black hair against her skin. She choked on her pastry and had to suffer Mary pounding her on the back until she begged her to stop.

When she managed to look up again, her stepfather had joined them. He stood at his ease on the hearthrug in front of the meager fire and smiled at Elizabeth.

She could detect no hint of remorse for his behavior. Elizabeth raised her chin and didn't bother to try and hide her loathing. She had learned, to her cost, that nothing pierced the thickness of his skin.

When he had first insisted she work to pay off his debts she had pleaded with him not to make her. He had threatened to throw Michael out into the streets and she never begged again.

Mr. Forester accepted a cup of tea from Mary and turned his attention to Elizabeth.

"Well, my dear? How are you faring at the duke's?" He raised his teacup in her direction with a suggestion of a leer. "You have obviously pleased him and I've heard he is not an easy man to satisfy." He gave her a broad wink.

Elizabeth stared back at him. "Indeed, the duke is a difficult man." She paused for effect. "I would certainly hate to anger him. Would you not agree, Mr. Forester?" She enjoyed the flicker of alarm her veiled threat produced more than she would have thought possible. Determined to retire on a triumphant note, she rose from her seat, brushed the crumbs from her lap and headed for the door.

"I will take my leave of you and go and visit Michael." She glanced out of the grimy window. "It is starting to rain and it doesn't seem fair to leave Mr. Gallion out there in the cold for too much longer."

Mary jumped to her feet and clapped her hands. "Why not ask Mr. Gallion to join us? We could quiz him about the duke and my chances of marrying him."

*** *** ***

After his soft-voiced response to her knock, Elizabeth entered Michael's room. To her relief, he was out of bed, sitting in a chair by the window, an open book on his covered knees. The room held little furniture and reminded her of a monk's cell, but it seemed to suit Michael's personality. He reminded her of the pictures of the archangel he had been named for--a warrior saint still fighting for his beliefs. After a swift glance around, she was relieved to see he had apparently been well cared in her absence.

She sank down beside Michael, rested her forehead against his useless legs and took one of his long-fingered hands into her own. He was only a year older than her and in her youth had been her constant companion and the reluctant recipient of all her girlish confidences. For a long while, she did nothing but lean against him and enjoy the peace that emanated from his calm presence.

He had not always been so peaceful. In the first year of his return from the battlefields of Europe, wounded and distraught, he had tried to end his own existence. It had been Elizabeth who forced him to live and forced him to adapt to his new life. She remembered their endless fights and her struggle to involve her disinterested mother in his care.

She drew in a deep breath and sat up to face him. His gray eyes held none of the silver glitter of the duke's. They were as deep and serene as the oldest stone or the thickest wolf pelt. He was too pale for Elizabeth's liking and too thin, but she had learned that there was little she could do to change that, given his current existence.

He smiled down at her and brushed a lock of hair away from her nose. "Where on earth have you been? I've heard such tales from the kitchen staff I've had difficulty sleeping."

Elizabeth squeezed his fingers and tried to sound unconcerned. "I wish I had something exciting to tell you, but I'm merely carrying out another of Mr. Forester's commandments. You know the one, 'thou shalt leave thy own house and go and pay off your stepfather's debts in another.'"

Michael's fingers tightened on hers. "I hear it is the house of the Duke of Diable Delamere, surely not a safe place for a young unmarried female." He paused, but she refused to meet his gaze. "Lizzie, he is a notorious gamester and womanizer. I'm concerned for your safety."

Elizabeth finally met his searching stare. "If I told you that the duke is more of a gentleman than our stepfather will ever be, will you stop worrying?"

"But what kind of work can he offer you? I fear for your reputation."

"What reputation?" Elizabeth came up on her knees and placed her hands on his, like a supplicant. "I'm not in any danger and I'm not being forced to do anything I don't wish to do." In this, at least she could give him the truth. "Indeed, I'm glad to be away from Mr. Forester and his tricks. Can you accept that and be happy for me?"

She raised her gaze to meet Michael's and saw her hesitation mirrored there. His cold dislike for Mr. Forester and his mother far exceeded her own.

"I wish my translation work paid well enough to keep us both." He shared Elizabeth's ability with languages. "Unfortunately the income is scarcely enough to clothe and feed me, let alone you, otherwise I would leave here and wish the Forester's in hell." He paused and shot Elizabeth an innocent look. "Of course it would help if you had the decency to eat like a bird."

Elizabeth ignored his teasing and rose to her feet. She wondered what Michael would think of her much-vaunted common sense if he could see how eagerly she kissed the duke.

"I came to talk about you, Michael. Do you remember we discussed finding you a full-time companion?"

Michael's lips twitched. "There is no need to worry about wounding my delicate sensibilities. You mean a nurse, not a companion."

Elizabeth reached into her reticule and passed the sheaf of papers she had shown her mother over to Michael. "I hope this man will prove to be both. His name is Jack Llewelyn and he left the army to take care of his commanding officer. The officer recently died and Sergeant Llewelyn is looking for a new position."

She waited anxiously as he leafed through the character references but he said nothing. She gathered her resolve and said briskly, "I've engaged him for a three month trial. If you find him satisfactory, we can extend the arrangement."

Michael lifted his head and regarded her evenly. "Of course, I'm grateful. I assume that our revered parents are not going to pay for this. So how are you intending to finance it?"

"I'm paying for it." She glared back at him and lifted her chin, prepared to do battle if necessary.

"Out of your wages from the Duke of Diable Delamere?" Michael crossed his arms over his chest and sat back, his keen eyes never leaving hers.

"Yes."

Michael cocked an eyebrow at her, the harsh beauty of his face at odds with his unconvinced expression. "Well, I hope that whatever it is you are doing to earn these wages sits well on your conscience. I would hate to have to call out the Duke of Diable Delamere to avenge your honor."