Stolen Love (24 page)

She did not like uncertainty, and now that she was here, things seemed more uncertain than ever. She believed her uncle when he told her Nicholas did not love her, and she had spent the entire journey to Kent reconciling herself to the fact. All of her resolve to feel nothing but friendship for Nicholas had dissolved the moment she saw him. And to make matters worse, Nicholas had not acted as though there were any understanding between him and Amelia. It was impossible to stifle her hope.

Though she had thought of taking a walk before it was dark, the clouds that had been gathering while they drove to Witchford Runs were now dark and heavy with moisture. As she watched, the first drops of rain began to fall. Even the weather seemed to be conspiring against her peace of mind. She resigned herself to staying inside, but after a few minutes more of staring out the window, she decided she had better find something to take her mind off Nicholas and what this invitation to Witchford Runs might mean. She exchanged her cloak for a shawl and went to find a servant to tell her where the library was. Before long she was sitting in an armchair turning the pages of a travel book without having the faintest idea of what she seeing. The sound of the door opening made her look up.

"Good afternoon, Elizabeth," Nicholas said. "Forgive me if I startled you."

"No, you haven't." She placed the book on the table next to her and wished she could make her heart stop pounding.

"Do you mind if I join you?"

"No."

He approached the table and reached for the book. He smiled, but she could not do the same. There was so much she wanted to say to him, but the thought of his being in love with Amelia paralyzed her. She could not bear to hear him tell her so.

"Have you ever been to Italy?" he asked when he had seated himself with her book open in his lap.

"I have not." She was surprised at the question, since he knew full well she had never been out of England.

"Perhaps you will go there one day." He shut the book and tossed it on the table. "Elizabeth…" He leaped from his chair and began pacing. "Elizabeth, it seems to me something is troubling you." His hair fell over his forehead, and he pushed it away brusquely.

"Perhaps there is," she said softly.

"I wish you would talk to me about it." He stopped pacing. "We must talk." He took a breath and waited, but she said nothing. "You are special to me." He scowled. "You always have been. You're not like other women at all."

"Is that true?" Her heart was in her mouth.

"Of course it's true. I have always thought of you as a dear friend, surely you know that." He sat down again, leaning far back in the chair.

"I am glad for your friendship, Nicholas, but—"

"Your future happiness is of great concern to me," he went on. "I should hate to see you do anything to jeopardize that."

Her gaze on him was half-puzzled, half-hopeful. "Do you think that I will?"

"I have reason to believe so."

"Did Uncle Havoc ask you to speak to me about Mr. Latchley?" she asked suddenly.

He looked at her sharply. "Why would you think that?"

"I thought he might have asked you to talk to me about him. He wants me to marry him."

"And will you?" He sat forward.

"I have made up my mind."

"You, marry Beaufort Latchley?" He scowled even more furiously than before. "You would wither married to a man like him. It's unthinkable, Elizabeth!"

"It does not signify. I will not marry Mr. Latchley."

"He isn't good enough for you, Elizabeth."

"Have you come to tell me who is?" She smiled, but he did not seem to notice it.

"Certainly Latchley is not," he snorted. "But why are you even thinking of marrying, Elizabeth?" The tenseness in his manner was back. "You are too young to be married. You had better wait until you are older."

He was acting as if it were inconceivable that someone might want to marry her, and she was suddenly angry at him. "How much older should I be? I am twenty years old," she snapped.

He waved a hand at her. "I did not have good sense when I was twenty either."

"Twenty is more than old enough for a woman to marry."

"Be that as it may, it does not mean you're old enough to be wise in choosing a husband."

"Don't you dare patronize me, Nicholas Villines."

His eyebrows lifted in amazement. "No," he drawled, "you had much better wait to get married, I think."

She jumped up. "I am not a little girl, Nicholas. And you're the only one who seems not to have noticed."

"I happen to know very well you've grown up, Elizabeth."

"Then why do you think I'm not old enough to choose a husband? I'm older than Amelia, yet I've never heard you say she's too young to be married."

"We had best leave Amelia out of this conversation."

"Why?"

"Because Amelia is exactly the kind of woman who ought to be married, and the sooner the better for everyone concerned. She will be an ideal wife."

"And I would not be? How is it that I am so deficient? What's so horribly wrong with me? I daresay if I married, I would make my husband a very good wife!"

"Elizabeth—"

"Uncle Havoc thinks I am old enough to marry Mr. Latchley. And Aunt Mary often says it is better for a woman to be married unhappily than not to be married at all."

"And I think it is better not to marry at all than to be married unhappily."

"Aunt Mary says that I had better get married if I do not want to be poor my whole life."

Nicholas stood up. "She doesn't care whom you marry as long as you don't make a better match than Amelia."

"Aunt Mary says a rich woman can choose not to marry and be none the worse for the decision, but a poor one would not wisely make such a choice."

"Oh, blast your aunt Mary, Elizabeth!"

"But she's right. Even Uncle Havoc agrees. I don't want to be a burden to him, Nicholas. And what will I do when they are gone? I might try to support myself, but at what am I permitted to make a living? Your sex prevents mine from any work that might support me into my old age. I have been making inquiries, and I have not been encouraged. In service I might make twenty-five pounds a year and still have nothing when I am no longer able to work. I have no wish to be both poor and old." She shook her head sadly. "If a rich man wants to marry me, a man whom I happen to hold in the highest regard, should I refuse him?" She stood up and met his gaze.

"I thought you said you wouldn't marry Latchley."

"Mr. Latchley is not the only man who thinks I am old enough to be married."

"Elizabeth," Nicholas said when the silence between them was almost unbearable, "you know that Ripton is my dearest friend."

"Yes. And you are his."

"Then you must believe me when I tell you he once declared to me your cousin was the woman he wanted for his wife."

"I am perfectly aware of what his feelings for Amelia were," she said stiffly. "I believe him when he tells me he does not love her anymore. And anyway, Amelia does not love
him. "

"One does not fall in love in a moment, you know," Nicholas said, ignoring her last comment. "This proposal of his, it seems to me, is rather sudden. Can you love a man who is so inconstant?"

"I have not said I love Ripton."

He seemed to relax a little. "Then you will not accept him, either?"

"Ripton is kind, and I believe he loves me."

"Surely you wouldn't marry him for his money?"

"A woman who has not loved more wisely than I had better marry for money than not at all."

"Ripton deserves better than that, Elizabeth. He deserves a woman who loves him."

"Ripton is perfectly aware of the state of my heart."

"All right! Marry Ripton, then!"

"I wasn't aware I needed your permission to do anything," she said as scornfully as she could.

He rolled his eyes in disgust. "Far be it from me to talk you out of your infatuation with Ripton."

"I'm not a child, damn you, Nicholas. I am perfectly capable of making up my own mind."

"Then I suggest you do it before Ripton falls in love with someone entirely new."

"I do believe I have made up my mind." She walked past him, pausing when she reached the door. "It is only a pity that you and Amelia will not be as happy as Ripton and I will be. Good day, Nicholas."

It was not an auspicious start to their stay at Witchford Runs, but it was at supper that evening that Elizabeth began to get a sense of how difficult it was going to be. Before, she had not thought there was an understanding between Nicholas and Amelia, but it certainly seemed so now. He did everything but call Amelia his dearest. To Elizabeth, he hardly spoke five words. That, combined with the fact that Lord Eversleigh clearly regarded her with suspicion, if not downright disapproval, made Elizabeth long to leave Kent and return to London.

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T
he day after the Willards arrived at Witchford Runs, Mrs. Villines and Elizabeth sat in one of the drawing rooms enjoying the warmth of a fire. They were talking amiably when they were joined by Lord Eversleigh.

"Good afternoon, Winifred," he said cheerfully, taking the seat next to Mrs. Villines. Elizabeth was surprised to see him smile.

"Good afternoon, Eversleigh."

"Miss Willard." He nodded at Elizabeth and smiled again, but the salutation seemed stern all the same.

"Good afternoon, my lord."

"Shall I call a servant to build up the fire, Eversleigh?"

"In a moment, perhaps. I want Miss Willard to tell me how she likes Witchford Runs."

This time his smile seemed almost friendly. "I think it is a romantic place."

"Romantic, eh? In what way do you mean that?"

"Well—"

"Here you all are." Everyone turned to the door. Nicholas took a step inside, then stopped. In spite of the dreary weather he was wearing his riding clothes. "Grandfather, Aunt Winifred." He glanced at Elizabeth but said nothing.

"Surely you're not going out, Nicholas?" asked Mrs. Villines.

"It's not raining." He shrugged. "And I am tired of being cooped up inside."

"You mean it's not raining
yet, "
she said.

"I only wanted to ask if anyone knew where Amelia has gone. We were going to ride together."

"She's gone into town with Aunt Mary and Uncle Havoc," Elizabeth answered.

Nicholas glanced at Elizabeth. "Do you know when they'll be back, Aunt Winifred?" he asked.

Elizabeth suppressed a gasp at the rebuke. Not even when she tried to catch his eye did he look her way again. Her heart sank, as it did whenever she began to think that the rift between them might be permanent.

"No," Mrs. Villines answered with a quick look at her, "but perhaps you might ride with Elizabeth instead. I'm sure she would love to see the estate."

Nicholas at last met her eyes, and when she saw the hardness in his gaze, she thought her heart would break. "Oh, no," she said softly.

He looked away. "I would prefer to go alone, thank you. If you will excuse me." He nodded curtly.

She rose seconds after Nicholas was gone. "If you will also excuse me." She was blinking rapidly so they would not see her tears. "My lord." She curtseyed. "Mrs. Villines."

There was a moment of silence after Elizabeth was gone, then the viscount sighed. "I thought bringing them here would improve the boy's mood. It appears to have worsened it."

There was an answering sigh from Mrs. Villines.

"Is she not the same Elizabeth he always talked about?"

"Yes. He's known her since they were children."

"And the other Miss Willard as well, of course?"

"Yes, but it was Elizabeth and Nicholas who were always together."

"The attachment, whatever it was, appears to have worn off," said Lord Eversleigh.

"I don't know what's happened." She shook her head sadly. "Eversleigh, it breaks my heart to see him driving away the only woman who could possibly make him happy."

He looked thoughtfully at the door. "Does she deserve as strong a recommendation as that?"

"Yes, she does."

"Miss Willard!" The viscount found Elizabeth in the library, and he stood in the doorway as he called out to her.

"Yes, my lord?" She put down her book and jumped up to curtsy. She stood stiffly, afraid she'd done something to anger him, for he was looking at her very sternly.

"I am given to understand you have an interest in gardening."

"Yes, sir." She breathed a sigh of relief at such an innocent statement.

"I thought perhaps you would like a tour of my conservatory. I am going there now."

"Thank you, my lord." If it were possible to refuse the request, she would have done so, but instead she meekly assented.

"Come along, then." He had a walking stick, and he placed both hands on top of it while he waited for Elizabeth to reach him. "I should appreciate the company of a lovely young lady." Elizabeth shook off the notion that his voice was less disapproving. "Shall we go?"

The first thing she noticed when Lord Eversleigh opened the door to the conservatory was the scent of roses. "Oh! It smells heavenly, my lord," she said in a half whisper. He held the door open for her, and when she stepped inside she exclaimed, "Why, it's just exactly as Nicholas described it."

"When did he do such a thing?" he demanded, letting the door shut behind him with a bang.

"You often took him here when he was a boy, my lord. He wrote to me about it." She felt as if she were speaking of something that had happened a hundred years ago. "You once told him gardening was a very gentlemanly habit to have, but that even if he never took it up, he must never forget to give a woman roses. And he said he did not know about gardening, but he was sure to follow the advice about giving roses to women." To her chagrin, she ended sounding quite mournful.

"And has he?"

"Yes, he has, as I'm sure you know. I have one of his orchids, as an experiment, to see if I can make it flower. He says we shall become famous if we succeed." She managed to put a more cheerful note in her voice, though there was no chance of any such thing now. She supposed she ought to send the plant back.