The Pursuit of Pleasure (4 page)

Lizzie was not at all affected by nostalgia. She rolled her eyes heavenward and scrunched up her nose. She crooked a finger at him and silently headed down the hallway. He ignored her. Just for fun.

“Aren’t you going to permit me to pay my respects to your parents, or am I to be dismissed and sent away quietly, like the tradesmen?”

That marmalade eyebrow rose in exasperation.

“Have it your way.”

She slid across the hall and opened the door with her back, slouching against the portal, her hands hidden behind her. She simply angled her head to invite him into the room where Squire Paxton and Lady Theodora were quietly engaged, she at her embroidery, and he reading the London papers.

Squire Paxton laid down his newspaper and made to rise along with his eyebrows, but Lizzie sailed on, cutting him out at his mooring.

“Mama, Papa, you remember Jamie Marlowe? Well, he’s Captain Jameson Marlowe of His Majesty’s Royal Navy now. He’s come to propose, so I’m taking him out to the garden so he can do it properly.” She cast a saucy glance at his tight, fawn-colored buckskin breeches. “You’ll have to mind those kicks on the grass.”

And off Lizzie went, unmindful of her mother’s strangled protestation at her nearly vulgar, cant mention of his unmentionables. Never mind her cavalier description of his proposal.

Marlowe swallowed his laughter and made a formal bow to her parents, whose mouths were gaping like mackerels. He might have followed their daughter, as he always had done, but those days were over, even if Lizzie hadn’t quite realized it yet.

“Good afternoon, Lady Theodora, Squire Paxton.”

Lady Theodora Paxton instantly came forward to take his hand. “My dear boy. How wonderful to see you again after all this time.”

The lady was as he had remembered: a small, light-haired woman of genial countenance. The daughter of an earl, she had been a great beauty in her day. Time had softened and blurred the edges that were still sharp on her daughter, but Lady Theodora, warm, kind, and generous, was mostly unchanged.

He turned his eyes upon the squire and stood for a long moment, letting him take the full measure of his potential son-in-law. Marlowe was surprised to find the squire diminished, smaller and not at all the intimidating Lord of the Manor of his memory. His gingery hair was liberally streaked with white, and his florid complexion looked strained and tired. Lizzie seemed to have been doing her work rather too well.

Squire Paxton made a very small bow. “How d’ye do,
Captain
Marlowe.”

His emphasis was only just short of insulting. How nice to still engender such alarm and bristling hostility after ten years. It had been a long wait.

Marlowe bared his teeth like a smiling dog. It had a wonderful effect upon the squire: his mottled face paled, leaving a spiderweb of purple veins crawling down his nose and cheeks. The years had not been kind to the squire.

“If you will excuse me.” Marlowe made a gracious bow, smooth as water, his fine manners well displayed to Lady Theodora. “I have an appointment with your lovely daughter, and I had best not keep the lady waiting.”

Another very small bow to Squire Paxton, and Marlowe took himself down the hall after Lizzie.

She was slouched back against French doors leading out to a terrace, waiting for him with every appearance of nonchalance. Not exactly the picture of the ardent bride-to-be.

“What astonishing cheek, Miss Paxton. Where on earth did you learn such disreputable language?”

“Why, Cap’n Marlowe,” she drawled in answer. “There’s a big, brawling world out there. Didn’t you know?”

He most certainly did. God, she was irresistible. Even in that hideous sack of a gown.

“No wonder they want you off their hands. And no wonder there are no other takers.”

She shot him a superior little glance, all narrow eyes and pleated, lush lips.

“Crying off already, are we?”

“Not on your life.” No, he was in for as long as she would let him.

“No,” she corrected with a sideways glance at him, “not on
your
life.”

Once again, she led the way without looking back to see if he followed, her loose-limbed stride taking them out of doors, past a well-tended expanse of lawn and down through the terraced garden set out along the hillside.

As they progressed through the yew hedges, a little flash under her plain gown caught his eye. She wore a pair of very old, but beautifully made, heeled court shoes of the last era, all bejeweled and embroidered, and totally inappropriate for walks out of doors. How like her.

“Don’t you think we’ve gone far enough? You can’t put me off forever.”

“I’ve come all this way for privacy. It will take Papa some time to find us here.”

Yes, Lizzie always liked to do things on her own time and in her own way. Which brought his eyes back to the beautiful old shoes.

“Aren’t they a bit much for a walk?”

“My shoes? Perhaps, but I always feel much better about life when I’m wearing pretty shoes.”

“Why?”

“Why?
Because,
that’s why. Because I just do. Why do you wear blue coats?”

“Because I’m navy.”

“If you’re a naval man, why aren’t you wearing your uniform? You weren’t wearing one at the assembly. Or the other day, in town.”

Again, he should have known. Trust Lizzie’s sharp little brain to home in on the pertinent details. This was only the second time he’d seen her, but she’d seen him somewhere else. Devil take her. It would be an interesting few days if she took him on.

“Naval custom prohibits me from wearing my uniform while on leave, but I wear fashionable blue coats because my valet insists they match my eyes.”

“You don’t have a valet.”

“No? How would you know such a personal and intimate detail about a man’s life? Spying on me, Lizzie?”

“Your boots are scuffed, your hair is disreputable, and your cravat has a tiny little pinprick hole no self-respecting valet would have let you wear in public.”

“So very observant, Lizzie.”

“Yes, well, I can also observe that you are standing far too close.” Her wrist made a disdainful little flick to shoo him back.

He took a step closer. “How else am I to observe you?”

“From a distance.” But a blush was spreading up her neck like apricot jam. He wondered how far it spread down.

“But then I wouldn’t know you smell of citrus, like sunshine.”

“You smell of whisky.”

“That’s bay rum. Where else did you see me, Lizzie?”

She made another languid flick of her wrist.

“Here or there, about the town, perhaps. With that tall, grave-looking blond fellow. He wore a brown coat.”

McAlden. They would have to be more careful.

“But you like blue coats better. Admit it.”

“They’ll do. I suppose they might match your eyes, though I’ve always thought they were gray, not blue.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment you noticed my eyes at all. But tell me, why should you need to make yourself feel better by wearing your shoes? Thought I’d renege?”

“Perhaps you will yet. Perhaps you won’t die like you’ve engaged to?”

“Then you’ve made up your mind? You’ll do it?”

She looked away, gazing out over the fore cliff and across the river for a very long time. His self-control battered itself against the cage of his chest while he forced himself to stand still and wait.

“Why not?” she said at last. “You just might be the antidote I need. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

The tense heat in his chest expanded into satisfied elation. He swooped in to give her a kiss, but she shied away.

“You’ll have to get a special license.”

“Special license? They’re expensive.” He was teasing her. He already had one in his breast coat pocket as insurance. One of the perks of being the son of a rector who was also a Doctor of Theology—he knew all the right people in Doctors’ Commons.

“You did say you were leaving in a few days? There simply isn’t time for the banns to be read, and I can’t be bothered with all the trouble of eloping.”

When he laughed, she frowned. “It will never do. I must tell you, I couldn’t stand all the silly fuss of an elopement, and besides, I can’t abide a closed carriage ride.”

“Then you shall have your special license.” He handed it to her with a flourish. “Does my lady require anything else?”

“Really?”

He had astonished her. But only for a moment.

“Well, yes. I find I
would
like to see the settlements. Papa will make all sorts of noise about taking them up, but I’d like to begin as I mean to go on. Independently.”

He didn’t laugh, even at the image of a pampered pet like Lizzie imagining herself independent. While she had always been a self-sufficient little thing, there was a vast difference between her confident expectations and the demands of the world. But she was a clever girl—she would learn soon enough.

“If you like.” He pulled out a folded piece of foolscap. “I’ve taken the liberty of drawing up a draft—time being of the essence. Once you’ve approved these amounts, all you’ll need to do is fill in the amount of your dowry, which, I might add, you’ll have control of immediately.”

As if on cue at the mention of money, Squire Paxton puffed his way through the yew hedges and across the lawn. He was steaming like a Christmas pudding.

He began before he’d reached them. “Elizabeth, there you are. Now, kindly explain the meaning of all this.” His tone was abrupt and the eye he bent on Marlowe sharp and demanding.

“Congratulate me, Papa. I’m going to be married, as soon as can be arranged.”

Instead of beaming out his approval, the squire’s bushy gray brow beetled. Clearly, he still didn’t approve.

“Now, Elizabeth, I’ve had enough of your radical ideas and newfangled ways of doing things. This is something for your mother and I to decide. We hardly know the young man.” He nodded sharply in Marlowe’s direction.

“Of course. I’m quite at your service, sir.”

Lizzie’s curious cat eyes slid back and forth between them. Incredulity creased her ginger brows. “Goodness, Papa, you’ve known Jamie, and his family, all his life.”

“Of course, we know his father, excellent man, the Reverend Doctor Marlowe,” the Squire insisted, “but things must be settled correctly, between gentlemen, without this unseemly haste. You needn’t concern yourself, my dear.”

“Papa.” Her voice held a warning. “You know my feelings. I
shall
concern myself. It is my future we’re bartering here, and Jamie and I have already discussed the settlements. I should think you’d approve of our businesslike dealings—we’ve a draft right here.”

“Absolutely not. It just isn’t done. Now, I’ll just have Captain Marlowe up to the house to have a talk. I insist.”

At least he wasn’t foolish enough to forbid. Marlowe could only imagine how Lizzie would react to that. She appeared quite put out as it was.

“I’m of age, Papa. You know I’ll want to approve those settlements myself, or I’ll not marry at all,” she replied steadily, though he could see the tension flattening the corners of her mouth. Then she gave her head a little shake and changed her tone. “But by all means let us go up to the house. We’ll need your secretary at any rate.”

She kissed her father’s cheek and walked past, oblivious to the fact that the squire’s brow gathered like thunderclouds over the top of his spectacles.

“And we’ll need to get down to the rectory as soon as may be,” she continued, “if we’re to be married today.”

“Today?” The squire’s face colored like a stewed beet. “On
no
account can it be today.”

“Papa, you must understand, Jamie leaves for the Antipodes directly.”

Once Lizzie made up her mind about something, neither hell nor highly patronizing father would stop her. She sailedoff like a jib. Marlowe followed close in her wake, leaving the squire to trail behind, blowing like a noisy bellows in the rear guard.

She wanted to marry him. Even against parental disapproval. Perhaps even refusal. She wanted him. The feeling was very nearly heady.

She must not know what her father had done, or she would not be so anxious to put herself under his control. And he couldn’t imagine Lady Theodora knew either, or she never would have welcomed him so cordially.

“Lizzie,” Marlowe called quietly, catching her arm. It was a compulsion, this need he had to touch her. To feel her. To indulge himself in a different kind of triumph. For reasons other than the ones he had concocted at the assembly.

“As flattered as I am by your insistence on haste, perhaps it would be best if we give your parents a bit more time. Tomorrow is soon enough. You father’s consent—”

“No.” She cut him off, sliding out of his grasp. “I told you, I mean to go on indepen—”

“Independently. Yes, I know. But
you
can’t become independent until
he
signs that settlement.”

Lizzie closed her eyes and set her mouth. For the first time in his life, he saw an unrestrained look of raw frustration and real anger color her face. A blotch of heat rose on her chest beneath the transparent fabric of the fichu.

“Is it too much to ask to have some say in my own future?” Her voice was low and bitter.

“No. No, it’s not too much to ask, Lizzie. All you have to do is ask the right man.” It was startling, how little she knew of the world.

“Of course. But then, I still have to ask, don’t I?” Her liquid green gaze was resolute and at the same time astonishingly vulnerable. He instinctively reached out to touch her, startled by her intensity.

“We all do, Lizzie. No one in this world can expect to sail on his own tack all his life. No matter what, there are duties and responsibilities, and choices and yes, even loves that dictate what we can and cannot do. You’re just too used to getting your own way.” He passed over the draft, setting the paper into her clenched hands. “Read it over,” he ordered gently, “handsomely now, and I’ll make whatever changes you want before it’s presented to your father.”

She swiped the paper out of his hand, still full of resentment.

“Then why are
you
letting me have my own way? Have such control over your fortune?”