Emily Hendrickson (13 page)

“Ah, Elizabeth. I have the good fortune to escort you to dinner. One of the times I appreciate my rank,” David joked as he offered his arm.

“My lord, you do like to tease.”

“You have mentioned that before. I know you have a sense of humor. Could it be
my
wit that you fail to appreciate?” He arched a wicked brow in mock dismay.

“My, the chit does have taste,” Egbert murmured just loud enough for Elizabeth to overhear.

Dinner proved singularly uneventful. Seated at David’s side, Elizabeth managed to do the food credit, although she felt the dishes lacked originality or taste. Several were overdone, others tasted most peculiar. Overcooked roast beef and bland apple pie, with other equally ordinary fare, must be to their liking, she thought, for all ate without complaint.

Following the meal, David excused them from the others, saying they wished to check on his father. Once up the flight of stairs, he paused before the door to the first of the rooms.

“This is not your father’s room.”

“Filpot just brought word that Father is sleeping nicely. I thought we might search this room while the others are below.”

Suspicion flared up. “Whose room is this?”

“Jeremy’s.”

“Of all the foolish things to do, this is prime. If you
must
search here, do so when he is away from home. He could decide to come up at any moment.”

“Quite so. Stand by the door and listen, I’ll do a quick check.” He placed his hand on the lever.

“I shall do no such thing. Come.” She tugged his arm, to his obvious amusement.

He quickly walked with her from the room, then on down the hall to the’ end.

“This is your room, sirrah. I hardly think we need look here.”

“More’s the pity. I wondered if you needed to have a look at my wound.”

She pursed her mouth in speculation, then chided herself for a suspicious mind. Of course his wound needed inspection. She ought to have thought of it without his prompting.

He whisked her inside even as he pulled off his coat.

Elizabeth sighed inwardly when she observed how well formed Lord Leighton was. He certainly stripped to advantage, as Geoffrey would say.

Once David’s shirt lay discarded on the chair, she efficiently removed the bandage to study the injury. Thank heaven she had only put in three-quarters of the powder normally used in the gun. Not only had it lessened the force of the bullet, but it meant that the wound had healed better, with less tearing of the skin.

It took but a short time to make her examination, gently smear some of Purvis’s compound on his arm, then bind the wound once again. She concentrated on her task, determined to ignore his proximity and the feelings he stirred within her. She glanced at the open door. Why that ought to make her more assured, she didn’t know. She felt quite certain that if he wished to make improper advances to her, whether the door stood ajar or not wouldn’t affect him in the least.

She gave the finished bandage a light touch. “There, now, it looks much better today. You heal well, my lord. In time the scar will scarcely be noticeable.”

“I trust my wife will not mind it, then.” He pulled his fine cambric shirt over his head, wincing at the strain on his arm. He managed the three buttons concealed beneath a modest frill. Fortunately, his collar points were not as high as Egbert favored.

Elizabeth knew she ought to leave the room, but she had never been privileged to observe a gentleman in the process of dressing before, and it fascinated her. He fumbled with his cravat, then gave up, tossing it aside.

“Shall I call Hadlow?” she offered.

He nodded regretfully. “I cannot manage yet. But soon.” His eyes held a message, but it was one she was reluctant to read. “I shall see you downstairs.”

Put totally out of countenance by his quite proper observation, Elizabeth blushingly escaped, pausing to check on the earl. Leaving Rose capably standing guard over his lordship, she returned to the library. Her face burned with embarrassment at her behavior. Why, a lady simply did not stand by while a gentleman restored his attire. She knew better.

While she waited, she perused the shelves again for some sort of herbal. She wanted to help if she could.

By the time David joined her, Elizabeth’s equanimity was somewhat restored, and it improved by the simple matter that he did not tease her about her folly.

When David entered, he closed the door carefully behind him. The familiar twinkle returned to his eyes as he surveyed Elizabeth perched precariously on the library steps.

“I am discouraged,” she admitted, wiping a stray hair from her forehead while surveying the area she had managed to cover. She reached to replace a book, offering him a scandalous view of a neat pair of ankles. When she realized what she had done, she moved suddenly, and the library steps tilted to a perilous degree.

David left his place by the door and rushed to steady her, both arms reaching for her lest she tumble.

Embarrassed at her silly display, she averted her face.

Fortunately, he said nothing about her impropriety.

“After studying that book you found, I have been over most of the rooms in the house,” he said. “I hoped to find evidence, but all I find are cobwebs and dust.”

“It must be very discouraging for you.” She felt her face lose some of its heat as he ignored her display of ankles.

“However, since he appears to respond well to the tonic Purvis sent and the broth you brought, I am convinced we are on the right track. If we can just keep the would-be poisoner from finding out that Father is well on the mend. Let him think the progress is nil, or very slow. What do you think?”

“I am not skilled in dissembling, but I could try. This cannot help but worry you.”

“Indeed,” he said wearily. “I believe we owe ourselves a respite, since he improves. Tomorrow, providing the cold weather holds, we ought to try a bit of skating. Do you indulge in that sort of thing?” He ran his fingers through his hair, the baffled expression replaced by one she thought calculating.

“I cannot say I have,” she replied cautiously. “Hyacinth and Lady Chloe spoke of a skating party.”

“Then, by all means I shall teach you. I am reckoned to be a dab hand at skates,” he said with modest pride.

“Even with one hand?” she teased. Let him have a taste of what he did so well.

“Still at it, you two?” Egbert’s sneering voice cut between them like a knife. “I should like to know what attracts you to this particular room.” He gazed about as though searching for the clue. “Although I have heard a library is a favorite place for lovemaking among betrothed couples. So much can be conveyed across the pages of an open book, don’t you know?”

Utterly outraged at his assumptions, although she knew she invited such by her behavior, Elizabeth straightened and prepared to give him a blistering set-down. A nudge in her back stopped her.

“We have been merely looking through the books. Did you find something to read. Miss Elizabeth?”

She smiled. “As a matter of fact, I did. ‘Tis a book I have long wished to read,
Self-Control
by Mary Brunton. It is reputed to be a good tale of the triumph of virtue over passion.” With that crisp statement she whirled about and pulled the volume in question from the shelf where she had seen it earlier. Then she marched from the room, head up, chin firm, and a saucy gleam in her eyes.

The soft chuckle that followed her departure brought a grin to her lips. His lordship appreciated her ridicule of Egbert’s pompous attitude. Not but what he was right.

* * * *

Morning saw a light sifting of snow, but Elizabeth believed the weather looked as though it might change for the better later on, and she grew hopeful.

Rose entered bearing a cup of chocolate, full of news of the day.

“His lordship’s ever so much better, miss. Purvis will be that puffed up when she learns how effective her tonic is, and that’s the truth.” Rose set about drawing back the curtains and shaking out the warm kerseymere gown Elizabeth had brought to wear.

“What a relief. You and Filpot managed to come to terms over the night nursing, I gather.” Elizabeth downed her chocolate in a rush, then slid from the warmth of her bed with reluctance.

“His lordship said that if it pleased you, he would take you skating after breakfast.” Rose looked round-eyed at her mistress. “What do you wear to skate?”

“Something warm and sensible, I gather from what I have heard of it. I shall put on my stout half-boots. And do not forget my fur muff.” She exchanged a look with her maid, one that said she doubted the outcome as much as Rose.

When she met Lord Leighton in the large hall, she still held doubts but thought she hid them successfully. In her favorite aquamarine pelisse and bonnet, she braved the day.

“Come, the wind is down and ‘tis a fine day for skating, as the temperature looks to rise. I tested the ice, and it seems to be fine.”

Tucking her hands inside her muff, Elizabeth walked with him along the path leading down the hill. Below, she could make out a pond, one with little inlets and pretty knolls above upon which to view the scene.

“I believe I ought to stand there to watch you, sir,” she said primly.

“And not skate?” he replied, scandalized.

“I shall fall, most likely.”

“But I will be at your side to assist you.”

She darted a dubious look at him then, wondering if this was some sort of ruse to tease her.

Placed close to the pond was a stone bench, and it was here that Lord Leighton urged Elizabeth to put on her skates. Or rather, to allow him to fit them on her boots.

“Your footwear is most practical for skates. I heartily approve.” That he also could not miss a glimpse of her shapely calves while adjusting those skates didn’t escape Elizabeth, and she thought him outrageous.

The iron-bladed runners were fixed to sturdy brass plates. He brought the leather straps about her boots to tightly fasten with a knot just over the instep. He screwed the heel peg into the sole of her boot and proclaimed her ready. He affixed his blades to his Hessians, and she thought he appeared smart in his blue tailcoat buttoned up with large brass buttons and a dark round hat set jauntily on his head.

“You are not wearing your sling. Dare you use your arm? I would not have you expose yourself to further injury just to amuse me.”

“I am not concerned,” he said in a typically masculine disdain for pampering.

When it came time to venture on the ice, Elizabeth put a tentative foot on the slippery stuff, then withdrew.

“What? Are you such a timid creature? Allow me.”

The wickedly handsome Lord Leighton proceeded to introduce Elizabeth to the delights of ice skating. Placing his arm firmly about her waist, with a look that told her not to quibble about his closeness, he led her forth. At first hesitant, she began to relax, and soon found herself able to perform simple gliding steps.

“I really believe you ought to permit me to guide you a bit longer,” he admonished as Elizabeth sailed past him toward the far end of the pond.

“Nonsense. I cannot see that this is so difficult after all,” she sang back gaily, enjoying the crisp air and faint sun that peeked through the clouds.

“It is possible to dance on ice with a partner,” he said in an aggravatingly appealing manner.

Absorbing this intriguing notion, Elizabeth returned to his side, tilting her head as she decided whether he was serious or not.

“Willing to try?” he dared her.

“On my headstone you may carve that here lies one who dared anything,” she quipped, even as she offered him her hand.

This time one of his strong arms went about her waist in a tantalizing way, and his other hand, of the arm that had been shot, firmly captured hers, letting her know he would not allow her to fall.

Had she paused to consider, she would have thought it most peculiar that he used that wounded limb so well. However, Elizabeth was lost in transports of delight, and far from reality.

With a taunting side glance, reminding her that he well recalled her inability to do the same, he hummed a gay waltz, then slowly guided them away from the bank.

She decided it lovely to be spinning around and around on the ice. Then it occurred to her, “The surface is remarkably smooth, my lord. I had always thought ice to be a bit bumpy when it formed.”

He actually looked chagrined at her words. “As to that, I went out last night with three of the men, and we sloshed water over much of it. Not that we covered it all, mind you.”

“I see.” But she didn’t, not really. That he should go to such lengths to please her seemed unlike him. Tease, yes. Please, no.

“You are a very clever pupil. Miss Elizabeth,” he said with approval.

His provoking grin and dancing eyes brought warmth to her cheeks. “I wonder that your cousins do not indulge in this delightful pastime.”

“Egbert might, if he ever gets out of bed in time. But Jeremy said he does not care for skating, or ice, for that matter. He insists he has business to attend.” He added as an afterthought, “I should like to see his account books.”

“Now,” she reproved, “do not be putting the poor man in a quake. You are rather good at disconcerting him.” And Jeremy was not the only one who found Lord Leighton intimidating at times.

“But not you, I think. Why, I could kiss you here, and you would not bat one of those delightful lashes at me.”

She pulled free of him, darting away with surprising speed for a novice. Although she wobbled a bit, she chuckled to herself. Kiss her, indeed.

“Elizabeth, wait!”

“Oh, no, I will not.” He had teased her once too often. Foolish man, he must learn that a lady has limits to her tolerance. Elizabeth wished for sensible conversation, not trifling.

“Elizabeth!”

Ignoring his call, she turned again to look ahead of her. Unfamiliar with the pond and skating, she really should have been paying attention to what she did.

An ominous creaking reached her ears, and she came to an uncertain stop. Little lines radiated out from where she stood. Not sure what it meant, she turned, her face serious, to gaze back at Lord Leighton. He approached warily, and even from here she could see his concern.