Stolen Love (6 page)

"I don't believe that," Elizabeth said. "And anyway, Mr. Rutherford, whom Nicholas falls in love with is none of our business."

"True enough."

"And," she added, "if Amelia is lovely enough to attract your notice, do you not think she might attract his?"

Ripton sighed. "A point, Miss Willard. A point."

"May I give you a piece of advice, Mr. Rutherford?"

"You may."

"You should think less about Mr. Latchley's name and more about Amelia. A woman notices what a man does more than what he says."

"Wise advice, Miss Willard. And like most advice, difficult to practice."

"Amelia, more than anything, craves attention. You should not ignore her, Mr. Rutherford."

"Now, here is something of practical use."

They were close enough to their party that Elizabeth could see Lady Charles strolling with another woman. She felt a pang of remorse at her hasty departure. "Will you excuse me, Mr. Rutherford?" she asked. "I must speak to Lady Charles. I'm afraid I owe her an apology." She ought to face up to the unpleasant, or she would never be deserving of Lady Charles's friendship.

"You are excused," he said, nodding his blond head. He watched her for a moment before rejoining Amelia and Mr. Latchley.

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N
icholas was sitting in the drawing room at Fitzroy Square enjoying the fuss his aunt always made over him when he was back in London after an absence. He was, therefore, mildly disappointed when the butler came in to announce the arrival of visitors.

Mrs. Villines stood up. "Mary, how wonderful that you've come today." She held out her hands to Mrs. Willard. "Do make yourselves comfortable," she said. "Nicholas is here." She turned to make sure he was coming. "Nicholas!"

He rose. "A pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Willard." He took her hand and pressed it briefly. Upon seeing Amelia, he paused for a beat before lifting her hand to his lips. "A true pleasure, Miss Willard, to see you again." He could not help putting just a small emphasis on the "you." Since he had last seen her, she had gone from pretty to strikingly lovely.

"Thank you, Mr. Villines," she said as she curtsied. "I was so terribly sorry to learn you were not in London when we arrived. I am sure it will be grandly amusing now that you are." She ended the sentence with a small giggle.

The corner of Nicholas's mouth lifted when Amelia laughed, and he acknowledged the compliment with a slight nod of his head. He turned to follow Mrs. Willard and Amelia into the center of the room, thinking as he did so that Amelia Willard was far lovelier than any woman had a right to be. Mrs. Villines put a hand on his arm to stop him, and from the corner of his eye he saw that someone else had come in. He turned. The girl was plainly dressed and at first glance not at all stunning. An oval face, chin slightly pointed, eyes of an unremarkable color. Her full lips parted in a hesitant smile. Yet her every feature was so perfectly and delicately drawn, she might have been a statue come to life. He did not look away. Her dark hair, pulled back from her face and fastened at the nape of her neck, only emphasized pale, flawless skin. She was tall and quite slender, but then, he liked slender women. Even as he wondered who she was, he thought that if she was half as innocent as she looked, she would likely drive him to distraction. That shy smile was entrancing.

"I thought for a moment you hadn't come, Elizabeth," he heard his aunt say.

He recovered himself quickly. "Elizabeth!" He took the hand she extended to him and held it. "How are you? I've missed you, you know." He hardly knew what he was saying in his struggle to see the Elizabeth he remembered. "We've a great deal to talk about." His Elizabeth was a girl still in pigtails!

"Good afternoon, Nicholas," she said. Her smile was no longer hesitant. "I've missed you, too."

The voice, though a little deeper now, was the same.

"She's hardly changed at all, has she, Mr. Villines?" Amelia said. "Except she's immensely tall." He glanced down at Amelia when she put a hand on his arm.

"Allow me to show you to a seat, Miss Willard," he said, almost relieved to have an excuse to look away from Elizabeth. It was unthinkable that he could have such a visceral response to a girl he thought of as a sister.

"Your aunt tells us you have been traveling," Amelia said when he had helped her to a seat near his. "I hope you will tell us of your adventures, Mr. Villines."

"I should be delighted to." He sat down and discovered Elizabeth was sitting directly across him on a chair next to his aunt.

"Nicholas," Mrs. Villines said, "was just telling me about his sojourn in Italy. He has been to the excavations at Herculaneum."

"How interesting!" Amelia cried.

"I have always longed to go there," Elizabeth said.

"Did you see any skeletons?" Amelia broke in. "It would be simply too horrid to see a skeleton. I cannot imagine anything more frightening."

"Not precisely skeletons, Miss Willard." He was rewarded with a small screech of horror.

"How terrible!" she said, raising a hand to her lips. "How could you stand to look at something so terrible?"

He deliberately devoted himself to making Amelia screech, and his attention was not significantly distracted from the endeavor until one of the maids came in with more cakes. He watched Elizabeth accept a plate. Because his aunt was between her and the table, there was nowhere for her to place it except on her lap. She actually managed it quite well, back erect, knees pressed tightly together, plate balanced, all the while holding her cup and saucer. She had been keeping those big gray eyes of hers steadily on him while he was speaking, but now every so often she glanced nervously at her lap. At last he could see his Elizabeth; the familiar mannerisms were still there. Not a girl anymore, but certainly not quite the mature woman he had seen at first, either.

"Enough about Italy," he said. "I don't want to tell all my tales at one sitting. Tell me what's happened in London while I've been gone." He looked to his aunt to provide the news.

"Your grandfather writes that Henry has gotten himself into trouble again."

"Good old Henry," Nicholas said, shaking his head. "What's he done this time?"

"Young Henry is likely to be a disgrace to the title when he inherits."

"He's still young, Aunt Winifred."

"He's old enough to know better. I've written to Eversleigh and told him to stop coddling the boy."

"Aunt Winifred maintains my cousin should learn the meaning of responsibility before he inherits the family honor," Nicholas said. "I happen to disagree. He shall have so much money when he does, he shall have no need to."

"Nicholas!"

He grinned at his aunt. Besides Elizabeth, his aunt was the only woman in world he loved to tease.

"I should think a young man in his position ought to be responsible!" Amelia exclaimed.

"You're quite right, of course," he said, leaning toward her once again but keeping one eye on Elizabeth, who was trying without success to suppress a smile. "However, I find the subject of my cousin tedious." He waved a hand to dismiss the topic. "Aunt Winifred, what have you done for the Willards since they've been here?" He was listening to Mrs. Villines tell him about a dinner party when Elizabeth shifted on her seat and nearly lost her untouched plate of cakes.

"Beth," Amelia said, "why don't you put down your tea?"

"Perhaps, Elizabeth, you would change seats with me?" Nicholas offered at almost the same time Amelia spoke.

Elizabeth was so intent on rebalancing the plate, she did not hear either of them. She gave a sigh of relief and looked up to find everyone staring at her. She blushed. "Oh, dear, have I missed something?"

"Beth, dear," said Mrs. Willard, "Mr. Villines has offered to change seats with you."

"How kind of you. But I'm not uncomfortable at all." She was looking directly at Nicholas, and, her attention diverted, the plate began to slide off her lap. She grasped for it but missed. The plate hit the floor hard enough to break into pieces and scatter cakes over the rug.

"Oh, Beth!" Mrs. Willard exclaimed.

"It is nothing," Mrs. Villines said, rising to ring for a servant.

"I am so sorry." Elizabeth repeated the apology to the maid who came to clean to mess.

Every bit the girl he remembered, Nicholas thought.

"My dear little Elizabeth," Mrs. Villines said, "there is positively nothing to be sorry for." She patted her arm, taking her cup of tea as she did so. "Let Nicholas give you his seat. He's been terribly selfish to make you sit here while all the time he's had a comfortable chair by the table."

"Perhaps I'd better." She glanced at him and stood when she saw him stand up. "Thank you," she said when he reached her side. "Someone must protect your aunt's china."

Nicholas was disappointed when the Willards left soon afterward. He turned to his aunt when they were gone. "I'm glad they're in London. Have they said how long they'll be here?"

"Likely until Amelia and Elizabeth are married."

"Elizabeth married? Don't be absurd, she's still a girl."

"She is just back from school," Mrs. Villines said on Elizabeth's behalf. "Give her time to adjust to London."

"Schoolgirls," said Nicholas, his tone expressing a full range of contempt for the limited charms of schoolgirls. "They giggle in a most annoying fashion."

"It was not Elizabeth I heard giggling."

"She restrained herself quite admirably from that vice. Elizabeth, thank goodness, is too sensible to giggle."

"Mark my words, Nicholas, she will be noticed."

"I do not calculate her career will be a very brilliant one if she goes about dropping things on all the carpets in London."

"Do you not think she is lovely?"

For some reason, it was important that his aunt not guess how Elizabeth had first affected him. "She was pretty when she was a little girl, too, you know." He shrugged. "But it is Amelia who has grown into a beauty."

Mrs. Villines dismissed the comment by shaking her head. "Surely you will allow Elizabeth is more than just pretty?"

"All right, Aunt Winifred, I will allow Elizabeth is very pretty. One day—when she is grown up, that is—she might even be exceedingly pretty."

"Elizabeth has something that Amelia, for all her beauty, does not have," Mrs. Villines persisted.

"And what is that?"

"Character," Mrs. Villines said firmly. "And character combined with beauty is a formidable thing for a woman to have."

"Well, I suppose, Aunt Winifred, that Elizabeth might have some small amount of beauty."

Mrs. Villines smiled and shook her head at her nephew.

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E
veryone who knew Mrs. Smithwayne agreed that she was a commanding personage. She was widely admired for her firmness of character, and her devotion to the poor and downtrodden was really an inspiration to others; she made no bones about it. No one could possibly be more sure of God's intentions for the world—nor more devotedly go about seeing they were carried out—than Annabelle Smithwayne. One could count on her to know without hesitation what was right and proper and when it was that someone had not done it. She was stultifyingly correct; even the smallest failure of deportment was grounds for her thorough and unmerciful disapproval.

Jane Smithwayne, who went everywhere with her mother, looked nothing like her. She was slender, for one thing, and for another, her coloring was precisely the opposite. With her milk-white complexion, pale green eyes, and ash blond hair, she was pretty in a wistful sort of way that completely escaped the notice of her mother, who thought her daughter's lack of heartiness only one of many shortcomings. Much to the dismay of Mrs. Smithwayne, Jane's mind was quick and her penetration often acute. Fortunately her lack of education generally disguised the defect. Jane herself bemoaned what she felt to be her alarming ignorance, though she had, in fact, made the most of what little education her parents had felt was necessary for a daughter. Jane had many good qualities that even her mother could not dismiss. She was tenderhearted, gracious, and always conscious of the feelings of others, even to the detriment of her own. She knew, because her mother told her so, that when she married and had children she would have fulfilled her sole purpose in life. Perfect obedience was required of Jane because her husband would expect it from her. Jane tried her best to be obedient, but sometimes she felt as though she might suffocate under the tremendous burden of making herself spiritually perfect for the man who would one day be her husband.

It was not until the second time Mrs. Smithwayne called on the Willards that Elizabeth and Jane became friends. When they came in Elizabeth was sitting on the floor near the fire petting the kitten Beaufort Latchley had given to Amelia. Mrs. Willard and Amelia straightened up from their perusal of a fashion magazine. Mrs. Smithwayne frowned when she saw it, as she considered such occupations to be frivolous.

"Elizabeth." Mrs. Willard waved her hand in the direction of the fireplace. "Do get up and say good afternoon to the Smithwaynes."

"Oh, please don't," Jane cried when she saw the kitten curled up in Elizabeth's lap. She quickly sat down next to her and stroked the kitten's back. "What's its name?"

"Charlotte."

"She's so tiny."

"Jane is never more happy than when she may make the acquaintance of some small animal," her mother said, looking dourly at where the two girls were sitting.

Jane said nothing but reached to scratch the kitten's chin. "Such a ball of white fluff you are, Charlotte," she murmured to it.

Elizabeth decided Jane had just proved she possessed a great deal of sensitivity by knowing where to scratch and exactly the pressure to apply to make the kitten purr even more loudly. She'd already suspected that she might like Jane Smithwayne more than a little, and now she was certain of it. The two talked quietly while Mrs. Smithwayne kept up a one-sided conversation with Mrs. Willard and Amelia. By the time Mrs. Smithwayne rose to leave, Elizabeth and Jane had discovered they had enough in common to sustain a friendship.