Stolen Love (10 page)

Lady Lewesfield briefly lost interest in Amelia. "Good afternoon, Mr. Latchley," she said, pressing Beaufort's hand warmly. "Have you met these two young ladies?" She placed her other hand on Amelia's shoulder.

"Indeed, Lady Lewesfield, I have had the pleasure.' Beaufort turned to Mrs. Willard and bowed. Amelia was amazed to see how friendly he was with the countess, and she gave him a brilliant smile.

"Mr. Latchley is fast becoming a favorite at Portsmouth Square," said Lady Lewesfield. "We only wish he came more often."

"I might have known Mr. Latchley would make straight away for the loveliest women in the room." Ripton managed a sideways glance at Amelia while he bent over the countess's hand.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Rutherford," said the countess. She looked past Ripton. "Ah, Mr. Villines, you've come after all. Tell me, how is Eversleigh?" Lady Lewesfield extended her hand to Nicholas. "Lewesfield was asking after your grandfather just this morning. We had hoped we might see you both here."

"He has just left for Witchford Runs, my lady. He claims that not even the presence of women as charming as you can induce him to stay in London past November."

"I cannot blame him." The countess shook her head. "Dear Mr. Latchley," she said, briefly grasping Nicholas's hand to prevent him from leaving her side, "do you not think Miss Amelia Willard would like to see Lady Charles's garden?"

"I would be delighted to escort you." Beaufort turned to Amelia and bowed stiffly.

"It would be an honor, Mr. Latchley," Amelia said with a giggle.

Nicholas glanced at Amelia, and when she giggled again, the corner of his mouth curled into what might have been a smile. Elizabeth would have given anything to understand the meaning of the glint in his black eyes when he looked at Amelia.

Amelia, conscious that she was the center of attention, tossed her curls, curtsied to Her Ladyship, and was gone. Ripton stared after them forlornly, wincing when Amelia placed her hand on Mr. Latchley's arm just before they were out of sight.

"Surely, Mr. Villines, you might take Miss Elizabeth out to see the gardens," said Lady Charles.

Nicholas nodded his assent and was turning to Elizabeth when the countess put a hand on his arm. "I promised myself I would have Mr. Villines for a partner at cards," she said. "Perhaps Mr. Rutherford will take Miss Willard around the gardens?"

"It would be a pleasure." Ripton looked at Elizabeth. "Shall we?" he asked.

"Certainly."

"I'll find you later," Nicholas said as Ripton led Elizabeth away.

"Which one of us do you suppose he was talking to?" Ripton asked.

"You, of course."

"Such a diplomat."

They were silent while they made their way through the room; the crowd prevented any further attempt at conversation. When they stepped out into the garden, Ripton looked at Elizabeth, who blinked in the sunlight and adjusted her hat to shadow her face. "Dashed bad luck, don't you think?" he asked, lifting his eyebrows quizzically.

Naturally, thought Elizabeth, he had really wanted to walk with Amelia, and here he was, stuck escorting the plain cousin. "We don't have to walk for long, Mr. Rutherford," she consoled him.

He looked startled. "Miss Elizabeth, I was referring to my arriving at the same time as Mr. Latchley. I can't abide the man. I assure you," he protested, "I consider walking with you to be a stroke of good fortune."

"Never mind, Mr. Rutherford." She patted his arm, sorry to have embarrassed him. "I wouldn't worry too much about Mr. Latchley. Amelia is so excited at the prospect of meeting Lord and Lady Lewesfield, I can assure you she's not thinking much about Mr. Latchley," she said.

"If he is the one who introduces her to Lord Lewesfield, she will think him a hero." He feigned dejection. "And I might as well have stayed home. Heroic men are the bane of my existence."

"One is hardly heroic simply because one introduces another to an aristocrat. Until Mr. Latchley saves someone from a burning building, he can hardly be a hero."

"Miss Elizabeth," he said after looking at her for a moment, "you really mustn't put up with such bad behavior from me." He shook his head slowly. "A gentleman ought not to carry on about another woman when he is already with a lovely young lady. Will you accept my apology?"

"Oh, I don't think that's necessary."

"But it is." He stopped walking and grasped her hand. "I do apologize, Miss Elizabeth." He bent to kiss her hand.

"Mr. Rutherford," she said in a low voice, feeling her cheeks begin to warm. She put her hand over his arm and continued walking.

"Nicholas tells me you've been to see his conservatory," he said after a few moments' silence.

"Yes, it was quite beautiful. I'd never seen orchids before."

"They are magnificent, aren't they? But to tell you the truth," he said in a confidential tone, "I prefer an uncomplicated flower. I limit myself to pruning the occasional rosebush, and then only when the gardener isn't looking. I do believe I'd come to some harm if the man caught me mucking about in his flower beds."

"I never knew gardening could be a dangerous hobby."

"It is at my house, I assure you," he said, returning her smile. He raised an eyebrow when she laughed. They had passed the roses and were walking on the grass toward a large elm. "Would you care to sit down?" He indicated a bench in the shade of the tree.

"Yes, thank you, I would. It's rather warm out."

Ripton sat down next to her and crossed his long legs at the ankles. "Now, tell me, Miss Elizabeth, do you still like London?" he asked.

"Yes, I suppose so."

"You don't sound certain."

"I don't know." She sighed, and Ripton looked at her quizzically. "It seems that everyone attaches such a lot of importance to the silliest things. I never knew how complicated choosing a pair of gloves could be until I came to London." She shook her head. "Do you know how often I find myself agonizing over such a silly thing, when I really ought to be worrying about a poor man who must steal in order to feed his children?"

"It's much easier to decide whether one is wearing the right gloves than it is to determine how one is going to help others."

"Well, I'm not doing enough." She bent to pick up a leaf. "And what is worse, Mr. Rutherford," she said sadly, "is that sometimes I don't care." She was aware of him watching her examine the leaf.

"You seem to care a good deal more than most."

"Then I think most people must not care at all."

"They don't." Even he sounded faintly bitter.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Rutherford." She put a hand on his arm. "Forgive me for being so gloomy, will you?"

"There's nothing to forgive, Miss Willard."

"Anyway, I like London most of the time." She smiled up at him. "It's certainly a good deal more interesting than Miss Langford's School." She let the leaf fall to her lap.

"I imagine it must be," he replied, leaning against the back of the bench and clasping his hands behind his head. The ensuing silence was a comfortable one, and Elizabeth closed her eyes to listen to the birds in the tree above them. She was half-asleep when Nicholas found them.

"There you are, Rip," she heard him say. She opened her eyes. He was still several feet from where they sat. "I've been looking for you. Lady Charles is just about to give us a tour of the house and show us her painting." He looked at Elizabeth. "Has Ripton behaved himself?" he asked.

"Behaved myself?" Ripton said in insulted tones. 'I've been a perfect gentleman, haven't I, Miss Elizabeth?"

"Yes, you have, Mr. Rutherford." She handed him the leaf, and he took it as though it were a tribute, tucking it away into the pocket of his waistcoat.

"I confess, I'm eager to see this painting of Sir Jaspar's," Ripton said as he helped her to her feet.

"Come along, then."

She took Ripton's arm again, and they followed Nicholas across the lawn and into the house.

The painting was in a drawing room, where it hung on a wall reserved for it alone. Several people were already standing before it, and there was some shuffling to make room. She lost sight of Nicholas when Ripton grabbed her hand and bullied his way to the front. He stood before the painting, paced about, and examined it from all angles. "Well," he said, turning to her, "what do you think of it?"

"It's lovely."

"Agreed."

"What do you think, Mr. Rutherford?"

"I think Sir Jaspar has gotten himself a bargain. He's been deuced lucky to get such a nice painting to go with this extraordinary frame."

More people came into the room, Amelia among them, and Elizabeth no longer had the undivided attention of Ripton Rutherford. As she made her way to the back of the room in order to leave the way clear for Ripton, someone jostled her, and in trying to recover her balance, she backed into what she assumed was an umbrella stand. It overturned, and she bent down to set it to rights. A cylindrical paper-wrapped package fell out of the stand, and she had to reach for it quickly to prevent it from rolling away and being stepped on. It was surprisingly heavy when she picked it up.

"Allow me, Elizabeth."

She looked up to see Nicholas setting the stand out of harm's way. "Thank you," she said when he took the package from her and carefully placed it back inside. He held out his hand and helped her to rise.

"There certainly are a dashed lot of people here," he said. "Are you all right?" He gripped her elbow.

"Yes."

"Let's walk. It's far too crowded in here." Elizabeth was happy to follow him outside. "Did you and Ripton enjoy your walk?" he asked when they were clear of the crowd.

"Of course."

"You were very quiet when I found you. I was afraid you had quarreled."

"Oh, no. I imagine he was plotting how to get Amelia away from Mr. Latchley."

"Oh?"

"He was afraid Amelia would fall in love with Mr. Latchley should he be first to introduce her to Lord Lewesfield."

"Do you think she will?"

Belatedly she realized that Nicholas and Ripton were in all likelihood rivals for Amelia. "If she does," she said hastily, hoping he did not notice her pink cheeks, "it will only be for an hour or two at the most. She admires you a great deal, Nicholas."

"Does she?" He took something out of his pocket and handed it to her without waiting for an answer. It was the Rousseau. "I remembered it just as I was leaving home," he said. "I wanted to give it to you before I left."

"Are you leaving so soon?" She fingered the ridges of the spine as she watched him, puzzled at the hardness of his eyes.

"Yes. I've a few things to attend to this afternoon that cannot be put off any longer." He stopped walking and turned to face her. 'Read it, and when you've finished we'll talk about what you think." For a moment the hardness of his gaze was gone, and she saw the Nicholas she loved. She was surprised when he suddenly grasped her hands. "Don't forget me, Elizabeth," he said.

"Forget you! Why do you say such a thing?"

"It's just that you look very pretty today, I suppose."

"Oh!"

"Soon enough, you won't want to spend any time with your old friend Nicholas."

"If you believe that, you do not think much of me."

"On the contrary, Elizabeth. Only, one day you'll be as grown-up as Amelia, and then I'll seem like rather dull company to you. I wish you would stay a little girl forever."

"Oh."

"Are we still friends?"

"You know we are."

"Are you sure?"

"Nicholas, we will always be friends."

Even after Nicholas had left her, it was some time before she went inside.

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N
icholas arrived at Regent's Park shortly after nine o'clock. Amelia and Elizabeth were with Miss Lincoln, and he waved as he rode up. At Sir Jaspar's, Amelia had urged him to join them this morning. He had not promised he would come, and it irked him that Amelia had obviously never doubted he would.

"Good morning," he said. "Miss Willard." He nodded at Amelia, who acknowledged his greeting by smiling and lifting her riding whip. He was certain it had taken her no small effort to achieve her look of casual elegance. She always looked polished, with never a hair out of place, unless it was artfully so. "Elizabeth." He nodded to her. Her riding habit was stylishly cut, very much suiting her slender figure. She looked fresh, with her clear skin glowing from the ride from Tavistock Square. The morning air, Nicholas concluded, agreed with her.

"What a pleasant surprise to see you, Nicholas," she said.

Evidently Amelia had not told Elizabeth she had invited him on this morning ride.

"It isn't actually a surprise, Beth," Amelia said. "I asked Mr. Villines to join us."

"Well, then, I'm glad you came."

"Where shall we ride?" Nicholas asked.

"We usually go this direction." Amelia inclined her head to the right. She held back her horse until Nicholas was even with her.

"Let us go, then," he said just before they trotted off. He could not see Elizabeth, though he was aware of her riding a little to one side of them, hanging back with Miss Lincoln while Amelia looked at him archly.

"I was disappointed to discover you left Sir Jaspar's party so early," she said, gazing at him through lowered eyelashes.

"I'm surprise you noticed, Miss Willard.' He suppressed a smile at what he was certain was not genuine bashfulness.

"Of course I noticed!" Her blue eyes fixed on him. "I looked for you," she said, "but you were simply nowhere to be found."

"I'm sorry now that I left," he answered, returning her gaze automatically. He wondered if there was anything behind those soft, perfectly shaped eyes that would not become boring after a time. She was interesting now, but would she still be after even a year?

"And I, too," she said softly.

"You seemed occupied without my attentions."

"How little you notice, then, Mr. Villines," she said accusingly.

"Defend me, Elizabeth," he cried, turning to her. "Was she not constantly occupied?"

"You must admit, Amelia, there is something to what Nicholas says. But I wouldn't be disheartened. He did trouble himself to notice you were occupied."