The Wagered Bride (15 page)

Her eyes
widened. "Oh! How could you say such a thing?"

She shot
off his lap, wiping the tears from her face. "L-leave, before I
scream."

He
stiffened. "Scream? You must be joking."

"I
am not j-joking." Her teeth started to chatter and she sank against her
bed with a hiccupping sob.

Milli
came running into the room and glared at him. "What have you done to my
sister?"

Stephen
took one last look at Elizabeth, turned, and strode from the room.

Chapter Nine

H
e weighs hardly anything at
all," Stephen said as he sat on a bedside chair in Emily's chambers,
holding the newborn in his arms. "The little imp. Richard is a fine name,
Em."

Emily
sank against her pillow and smiled as she picked at her breakfast. "He may
be small, but he has terrific lungs. My only concern was getting him into the
world. Once he was here, I knew all would be fine. Elizabeth was wonderful,
trying to soothe my nerves when I was in so much pain. I don't know what I
would have done without her before the doctor arrived. But I must say, you
amaze me. When did you ever hold a baby?"

The baby
cooed and Stephen softly patted the blanketed bundle. Elizabeth was wonderful.
He never should have brought up Fennington's name last evening. It had ruined
everything.

"Don't
you know? My friend Harry has had three of these. I am not without some
education, Em. In fact, I have held some of Pearson's brood when they were only
weeks old."

Emily
paused. "Hmmmm. If I didn't know better, I would think you wanted one of
those little imps."

Stephen
stood, smiling as he rocked the baby in his arms. "One thing at a
time."

"Have
you seen Jared this morning?" Emily asked.

Stephen
grimaced. "Your husband, madam, is inspecting the baby linens for
cleanliness as we speak. The man is a veritable ninny when it comes to you and
this babe."

"Yes,
he is," Emily sighed, her lips curving upward.

Stephen's
brows snapped together. "The man is also giving me advice that I would
rather shove ... oh, never mind." The baby snuggled closer to Stephen's
chest and let out a whimpering cry. "Jupiter, Em. He ... the ... my chest
is soaked."

Emily
laughed. "So much for bravery. Call in Betsy, the nanny. She will change
him. No need for a soldier like you to attend to such a dastardly job. Uncles
do not attend to such weighty matters of everyday life. Clayton certainly would
never do it. I am not certain about Marcus or Roderick either."

Stephen's
dark eyes danced. "You underestimate me. If I can ride into battle, I can
certainly change a wee little infant. Just watch me and see how it is done by a
master. But you are not to tell a soul, mind you. I would never live it
down."

Elizabeth
stood in the hall, unexpectedly overhearing the conversation between brother
and sister while catching a glimpse of Stephen holding the baby.

"By
Jove, Em, I didn't know a little thing could do so much damage. Er, perhaps we
should call in Betsy after all."

Elizabeth's
heart swelled with tenderness for the man. This was the real Stephen
Clearbrook. A man who loved his sister, his family, his nephew. For a moment
last night, he had almost led her to believe a marriage between them would
work.

But he
didn't love her. He was a man who needed her father's money. It was done all
the time. The birth of his nephew was the joy she had seen in his eyes, not
anything to do with herself. Her happiness had been shattered the minute he had
mentioned Fennington's name.

Tears
pricked the back of her lids as she fought the emotions swirling inside her. As
quietly as she could, she turned and made her way back to her room.

His
charm was her undoing. Lord Stephen had wrapped himself around her heart, and
she didn't know how to extricate him.

With
just one smile from that rogue, her insides melted like snow on a summer day.
And when he held her last night, her thoughts had spun like a windmill, making
her forget the incident with Lady Odette. But the more she dwelled on it, the
more she thought that perhaps Milli had misunderstood his instructions about
Odette's drink. None of it made sense.

Still,
his charms were so remarkable he could hide almost any flaw in his character
and it would be hard to detect.

But
there was one thing she would never forget. He wanted to marry her for her
father's money and there was no changing that undeniable fact, charm or not.

Closing
the door to her room, Elizabeth sat at a small corner desk and penned a letter
to Mr. Fennington. She would post it when she went into Town. After last night
and especially this morning, she knew she had to do something. She had tried to
keep her distance from Stephen, but it was all for naught because nearness or
not, she still wanted him to love her. Seeing him holding the baby so tenderly
touched her deeply. She had to leave.

"What
are you doing?" Milli popped her head into the room.

Elizabeth
quickly stuffed the letter into the drawer and turned to her sister. "I am
writing a letter, Miss Nosy."

The girl
peeked over Elizabeth's shoulder. "To whom?"

Elizabeth
knew that Milli had taken a liking to Stephen, and the girl could easily drop a
hint to that very man a letter was being sent to Mr. Fennington and that would
ruin everything.

"It's
none of your affair to whom I write, Milli. But since our visit to the
dressmaker's has been postponed for at least a few days, you might want to set
aside some time and do the same. I would think your friend Grace would like to
hear from you."

"Yes,
she is so lonely since her parents died. I shall write to her." Milli
paused. "Good gracious, what is that horrid squeaking?"

Elizabeth
tipped her head to listen, her eyes twinkling. "I do believe that is Lady
Bringston singing. The woman hovers over that baby as if it were her own. Lord
Stonebridge has begged me to ride with his mother-in-law somewhere before she
drives him insane. But for now, we are stuck here, so you had best gather your
writing utensils and go to work."

Milli's
lids fluttered closed as she fell onto the bed with a silly smile. "The
dressmaker. How utterly romantic. More romantic than writing letters. Perhaps
Lord Stephen will see you in a gown of gold and fall to his knees, begging for
a scrap of your love."

Elizabeth
doubted she would ever see the handsome lord on his knees for anybody, let
alone her. He had too much pride.

"Someday
your acting will cause you trouble, Milli. Mark my words."

Fine
gray eyes stared back at Elizabeth. "Someday I will marry a prince who has
fallen in love with me at first sight."

"If
you want a prince, you had best practice those dancing lessons Papa paid for
and practice your writing."

"Dancing?"
Milli frowned and slid off the bed, heading for the door. "I am not a ballerina,
you know. Oh, by the way, the duke was wondering how well you knew Mr. Fennington.
He believes the man is only after money from rich heiresses, and he is very
concerned about your relationship with the man, even though you are engaged to
his handsome brother. And Lord Stonebridge—well, he evidently loathes the
man."

Elizabeth's
face colored. "What did you say to the duke?"

Milli
huffed. "Well, I certainly did not tell him you fell out of that tree and
onto his brother while you waited for Mr. Fennington to sweep you into the
carriage and ride to Gretna Green, if that is what you meant."

"Millicent,
sometimes I would like to throttle you."

Milli
laughed, running from the room. "You would have to catch me first."

Elizabeth
pulled out her letter and stuffed it into her reticule. Obviously, this
household had something against Mr. Fennington. And how could she believe
anything Lord Stephen said? She would have asked Emily if her condition were
not so delicate. The lady would surely know if the stories were true.

But
Elizabeth knew Mr. Fennington to be a fine man. He loved her. He did not love
her money. Now Lord Stephen Clearbrook, with his devil-may-care attitude,
wanted only her money. That charm of his was lethal to her well-being. Love was
what mattered most in a marriage. Love and truth.

Scowling,
Stephen stood in the library and threw one boot onto the hearthstone, nursing a
glass of sherry in his hand while Roderick hovered over him like some vulture
picking at his prey.

"And
another thing, if you were not so thick in the skull, you would see what a gem
you have on your hands."

Stephen's
cool gaze lifted. "Gem or not, Your Grace, I should be the one to choose
my own wife."

"Who
the hell cares what you want? Do you have any idea how well she handled the
situation with Emily? You cannot jilt her."

"You
think I don't know what Miss Shelby did by keeping Emily calm until the doctor
arrived? I am not stupid!"

"Hell's
teeth. Can you not even call the lady by her Christian name? You are
engaged!"

Stephen knew
very well he was still engaged to the lady. The problem was she was in love
with someone else. "Elizabeth. There! Are you satisfied?"

He
folded his body into the nearby chair, his gaze hard and unforgiving as he
stared into the flames.

Roderick
slapped the fireplace mantel with his hand. "If I were not your brother, I
would call you out."

Stephen
slowly lifted his head. "Why the devil don't you, then? It would make my
life easier."

The
duke's eyes turned black. "You hurt that innocent angel and you will
answer to me."

Stephen
laughed. "Oh, this is grand. She now has you in her corner, too. As well
as Clayton and Marcus."

His
gallant brothers had made a point of pulling him aside after breakfast, telling
him he was one lucky fellow to have a woman with a head on her shoulders.

"Why
do you dislike her so?"

Stephen's
lips thinned. "You don't understand, do you?"

"You
were always the cocky child, Stephen. It's time you took responsibility for
your actions."

Stephen
shot from his seat, his finger stabbing the air. "Oh, I see. You wish to
become my father, telling me what to do. Well, don't you dare try to interfere
in my life. I can handle everything myself. As a matter of fact, if I ever come
to you asking for money or a favor again, you may well deduce that I am at
death's door with a bayonet in my back."

"Then
I give you fair warning," the duke replied, his tone sharp, "you'd
best not hurt that girl."

"Yes,
you have already told me you were her champion. Well, hell, Roderick. Where was
Mother's champion when she needed him?"

"What
the blazes are you talking about?"

"Don't
be an idiot! Where was Mother's help when she married our father? Where the
hell was the love he was supposed to give her? Were you too blind to see how it
was? How could she have fallen in love with a man who did not love her? Did you
know her heart ached for his love every day he lived with her?"

Roderick's
face paled. "Let it go, Stephen."

"Truly,
do you think me a peagoose? Ask Mother if you do not believe me. But believe
this, I will not enter into a marriage without love between both parties. I
will not enter into a life like mother did and while the time away with a
broken heart. Do you take my meaning?"

"I
take your meaning, little brother. The question is, do you take mine?"

"Indeed,
Roderick. I have eyes and ears. But do not fight me on this. You have a wife
who loves you. How dare you interfere in my life."

"No,
Stephen. That is where you are wrong. It is two lives—yours and
Elizabeth's."

Stephen
knew Roderick was right. And plague take it, if he were not a gentleman he
would leave for the Continent first thing tomorrow morning. But truth be told,
he was falling for Miss Elizabeth Shelby, and the crux of the matter was, the
lady could not stand the sight of him.

A week
later, with the duchess by her side, Elizabeth stood inside a fitting room at
the dressmaker's shop and bit back a groan of discomfort as the French
seamstress pinned and tucked her until she felt like an overstuffed sofa cushion.

"You
will look wonderful in silvers and blues," the dressmaker said, her
smiling eyes taking in Elizabeth's proportions. "For the engagement ball
you will be a diamond of the first water."

"We
have postponed the ball for another week, but we must have these gowns as soon
as possible," Jane added as she stood beside the dressmaker, offering her
own opinions on Elizabeth’s apparel.

Elizabeth
managed a smile. Her engagement ball. The entire situation with Lord Stephen
was making her extremely nervous. Something had to be done soon.

The
young duchess gave her a sly wink. "I know you are tired, dear, but if we
want Emily to have any peace at all, we must keep my mother-in-law away from
the house as long as possible. I declare, Jared was ready to throw his fist
through the wall. My dear mother-in-law has been cooing and fluttering about
that baby as if it were one of Egypt's kittens."

Elizabeth
chuckled, recalling one of the kittens that was to be given to Milli when it
was ready to leave the litter. The kitten was solid black with almond-shaped
amber eyes and a speck of white at the end of its tail. Milli called it Cleopatra.
The name suited the small feline perfectly. The kitten already acted as if it
were queen of the litter, making its own way in the world.