The Wagered Bride (23 page)

"See
here, now. Let's not go as far as that. This was just a brotherly talk. It
certainly did not pertain to me."

She
glanced over her shoulder as she climbed the stairs toward the gaming salon, her
blue eyes gleaming with promise. "I will not forget. You will have a lady
worthy of your love and there will be no substitute."

She
planned to tell her father and Stephen that she had had enough of their
foolishness. This would be settled once and for all, and she would ask Stephen
point blank if he loved her or not.

Marcus
stood at the bottom of the stairs, staring at the vacant hallway. 

"Problem,
Marcus?" He turned at the sound of Roderick's amused voice. "Misplace
something?" the duke asked.

Marcus
scowled. "You could say that"

"And
what, pray tell, have you misplaced on this grand night of diversion?" The
duke raised a right brow in mock inquiry.

"My
mind, Roderick. My blasted mind."

The door
to the blue room eased open just as a servant departed, carrying a silver tea
set. Elizabeth stood in the hall, not intending to eavesdrop, but the sudden
sound of her father's voice kept her frozen in place.

"You
must be mad. I cannot hold you to that amount. The duke would call me out, my
dear boy."

"Shelby,
if you continue to call me dear boy, I will call you out myself." The
crisp sardonic response belonged to Stephen.

"Very
well, then. If you insist, my lord. But Lizzie ain't going to be happy about
this."

There
was a slight scrape of a chair, the clearing of her father's throat, the
cracking of knuckles.

Elizabeth
was about to step inside and put a stop to the game when she thought better of
it. She rested her forehead against the wall outside the salon.

How
could her father treat Stephen so, knowing his weakness at cards? And how could
she humiliate Stephen by breaking into the game? She realized with a start that
he needed her. Needed her to take care of him, save him from himself.

She
picked her head up and straightened. She could do it for the man she loved. She
could.

Stephen
stared at his cards, knowing that unless Shelby produced a miracle, the man was
going to lose.

"Vingt-et-un,
Shelby. Knave and an ace."

Shelby's
face turned crimson. "But how?"

Stephen
did not rejoice in seeing the man sweat. But it was something that had to be
done.

The
older man flipped out his hand. "You surprised me, my lord. You find me a
bit indisposed." He threw out his purse. "I can pay the remainder of
my reckoning tomorrow."

Stephen
leaned back in his chair. "Sorry, old boy. But the rules of the game, you
know. I will have to call you on it."

Shelby
swallowed. "A note perhaps. Tomorrow, the bank—"

Stephen
leaned forward, a gleam of determination in his gaze. "No tomorrow, sir.
You owe me the sum. Now."

Shelby's
Adam's apple gave a pronounced bob. "I find myself at a loss."

Stephen
finally poured himself a glass of port and sipped, peering over the rim of the
glass. "Of course, there is something else that may be used instead of
your purse. I could call the matter even if you wish."

Shelby
knitted his bushy white brows in confusion. "Exactly what are you saying,
my lord?"

Stephen
shot the man a cool deliberate smile. "Do you not remember, one daughter
for one debt?"

Shelby
rose unsteadily from his chair. "I fail to see how that applies
here."

Silence
thickened the air between them.

Stephen's
chair scraped back as he stood. "You may have her back."

"I
beg your pardon?" the older man asked, his face beet red.

"Elizabeth.
Your eldest. You may have her back. I don't want her. We are even now."

Shelby
looked shocked. "This is maddening! I won't do it!"

"Oh,
won't you?" Stephen said, throwing the man's purse back at him. "But
it is done. I believe I will still keep Creighton Hall, though. However, fair
is fair, my good man. In fact, I believe I have been more than fair in handling
your debts."

"I
won't have it. You hear me. She will be the laughingstock of all London."

Stephen's
lips thinned as he took his seat. "Then you should have thought of that
when you made the deal with me, sir. You have made Elizabeth a pawn and now you
have been checked."

"Checkmated,
my lord," Shelby said between gritted teeth. "You have me cornered.
Always knew you were a smart one."

"We
are even, then. You owe me nothing and I owe you nothing."

"And
I owe neither of you." The voice was a bare whisper beyond the door, but
when Stephen heard it, it was like a blast of cold air to his soul. She took a
step inside.

"Elizabeth,"
Stephen said, shocked.

"I
am not a pawn," she said calmly. "I am a person."

Stephen
rose slowly, his face white. "I—"

"No.
No more. I don't know how I ever thought I loved you. And, Papa, I am ashamed.
I am ashamed of both of you." Blue eyes peered at Stephen with such
disgust he felt ill.

"You
don't understand," he said, starting toward her.

She put
up her hand. "I understand everything now. I am a female with no rights
except the ones you two deem necessary to bestow upon me. I cannot stand the
sight of either of you. I am leaving now and don't you dare follow me."

A sob
broke out and she turned from the room, her head held high, her chin wobbling,
her footsteps echoing the hall in patchy thwacks of pain until they could no
longer be heard at all. Stephen's lungs ached from holding his breath.

Shelby
threw his hands to his face. "Goodness knows I tried. Tried to give her
everything. And somehow I failed."

"We
were both wrong," Stephen replied, as he stalked across the floor and
threw open the door. Instantly he felt a sinking in the pit of his stomach,
worse than he had felt when his father died, worse than he had felt at
Waterloo. She was gone.

Elizabeth
ran down the hall and staggered into the first room she came to around the
corner. Hot tears pooled in her eyes. She hurried to the window seat, hiding
behind the curtains, pressing a hand to her mouth.

How
could they play her like a fool? How could Stephen throw her back to her father
as if she were a piece of property?

She had
been ready to confront the two most important men in her life and forgive them,
but they had betrayed her again.

Footsteps
stopped near the door and she stilled. Her heart pounded as if the hounds of
hell were after her.

"Elizabeth?"

She held
her breath.

"Lose
something, little brother?"

Elizabeth's
stomach knotted as Clayton's voice sounded only a few feet from her hiding
place.

"No,
I did not lose something," Stephen snapped. "I am merely looking for
my fiancée."

"Ah,
a lover's rendezvous?"

"I
don't have time to entertain your sick mind. If you see Elizabeth, tell her I
am looking for her. Can you do that?"

"I
believe I can follow those instructions."

"I
won't even ask why you are lying prone on that sofa."

"Three
words, Stephen. Miss Briana Garland."

"The
one with the mother that looks like a penguin?"

"The
very one. Now, if you would be so kind as to shut that door, I can return back
to the book I was reading."

With a
groan, Stephen shut the door and Elizabeth crumpled to her knees, too ashamed
to face anyone.

The next
moment Clayton was at her side. "Are you ill?"

"No."

He
helped her to the sofa and locked the door.

Walking
back, he stood over her and frowned. "Then it is my duty to my brother to
tell you that he is looking for you."

Her
response was a strangled laugh. "Well done of you, my lord."

He
cleared his throat. "Being a gentleman I won't ask why you are weeping.
But if you have any need of my services ..."

She
looked up. "Could you obtain a carriage for me?"

His dark
brows rose about an inch. "Zeus, Miss Shelby, Stephen would have my
head."

A lonely
tear dropped to the carpet. "I understand."

Clayton
winced. "Oh, very well. The carriage will be waiting around back. But I
must know where you are going."

"My
Aunt Polly's. That is where I have been residing since I left here."

Though
Elizabeth liked Clayton, she certainly was not going to divulge her plans to
him, either. He was a Clearbrook after all. Moreover, he wanted to help her,
but she knew that as soon as she left, he would tell his brother of her
departure.

"Ah,
a lovers' spat?" he said dryly.

"Your
brother and I are not lovers," she blurted out and immediately realized
her faux pas.

He gave
a little chuckle. "Hmmm. My brother must be losing his touch with the
women, then."

"I
truly do not wish to discuss your brother. I would merely like accommodations
for travel back to my aunt's home. If you would be so kind as to help me, I
would forever be in your debt."

"Oh,
not that, my dear. If you are in my debt, Stephen would call for pistols at
dawn. But I will help you. And being the gentleman I am, I will accompany you
to your destination."

She
narrowed her eyes. "You think I have cause to lie to you?"

The
older brother smiled, the rakish expression reminding her too much of Stephen.

"Oh,
no, my dear Miss Shelby. But Stephen would never forgive me for letting you
travel without an escort."

She gave
him a wary look. "Very well."

He
walked back toward the door, glancing over his shoulder. "Do not open this
door for anyone. I will return with your wrap in five minutes. And if perchance
a certain Miss Briana Garland or a dowager penguin breaks down this mighty oak
barrier to see me, tell them I have died and gone to gaming hell." His
eyes twinkled. "Understand?

Elizabeth
smiled faintly as he closed the door. He thought he was helping her. But a wrap
would do nothing to stop the icy grief seeping into every pore of her soul.

Chapter Seventeen

“W
hat do you mean she took the
carriage?"

Stephen
stared in disbelief as Clayton sat in the library, his shoes on the desk,
sipping his wine as if nothing were amiss.

"I
took her home," his brother said calmly. "And you will be pleased to
know I did mention you were looking for her."

With one
quick move, Stephen swiped his brother's feet off the desk. "You are more
stupid than I remembered."

Clayton
lowered his gaze to the spot of red wine sprinkled upon his shirt. "No, I
believe you are the stupid one here. You threw her back to her father like some
cursed toy."

"It
wasn't like that at all. Blast it! I love her!"

"Fine
way of showing it, little brother."

Stephen's
hands fisted at his side. "I only meant to give her back to her father so
I could marry her free and clear."

"You
should have told her."

"Hell
and thunderation, you stupid idiot! I wanted to, but it seems you went about
hiding her from me."

"I
have had about enough of you."

"And
I have had about enough of you. Reading Byron while escaping Miss Garland. Or
is it her mother that terrifies you? Never knew I had a coward for a
brother."

Clayton's
eyes shot daggers. "If you weren't so mad over your dealings with Miss
Shelby, I would box your ears. I won't try to talk to you in this state, but I
daresay your fiancée has had enough of you as well. Sleep it off, and tomorrow
morning, fetch her back."

Clayton
had barely a second before he was spun around and thrown to the floor with
Stephen's fists pummeling his face.

Fifteen
minutes later, the duke found Stephen slouched against an overturned chair,
breathing hard. Across the room, Clayton held his handkerchief to his bleeding
nose.

"Do
you want to tell me what the hell is going on here?"

Stephen
glared at the duke.

"We
were fighting over who is the biggest idiot," Stephen said sarcastically,
"and as you can see, Clayton won."

Aunt
Polly sat primly on her sofa, sipping her tea and eyeing Stephen over the rim
of the cup as she contemplated answering his question. "She is gone."

Exasperated,
Stephen tried to control his anger. "Well, I know that, but where has she
gone to?"

"That
is not for your ears, my lord."

Stephen
gripped the side of the chair, his knuckles turning white. "Madam, I am
fully aware of Elizabeth's feelings toward me, but yesterday was not what it
seemed."

Polly
set her cup down and let her gaze linger over him as if he were last night's
supper, spoiling in the pantry. "You and William have bounced my girl's
heart around as if it were nothing at all. I fail to see what good it will do
for her to meet with you again. She wants her privacy and I will give it to
her."

"Enough
of this piddling talk!" William Shelby strode into the room, his cravat
askew, his jacket rumpled.

Clenching
his jaw, Stephen regarded the man. It looked as if Shelby had not slept a wink
either. The notion was little consolation compared to the loss of Elizabeth.

A flash
of pained recognition glittered in Shelby's eye as he acknowledged Stephen
before he shifted his gaze back to the lady. "Now, madam, you will tell me
where my daughter is. This is not the time to trifle with me."

Polly
Crimmons laughed. "La, William. Surely you cannot think me such a fool.
Your daughter has no wish to let anyone know where she is. But since you are
her father, I can assure you she is quite fine. Not that you have anything to
do with that, you half-witted idiot. She needs time to heal from what you two
have done to her."

Red-faced,
the older man pulled at his cravat. "Listen here, Polly, you will tell me
her direction."

"I
will, will I?” the lady said haughtily. "How dare you tell me what I
should do when it was you who shoved that poor girl off on this roguish
gamester."

Stephen
swallowed a curse. "If you would do me the honor of giving me your niece's
direction, I would be forever in your debt."

"An
interesting prospect but why should I divulge such confidential information to
you, my lord?"

Stephen's
brows snapped. "Why? Is this the Spanish Inquisition? Because I love her,
that's why!"

"I believe
you do," Polly said. "But I gave Elizabeth my word that I would not
disclose her destination. She needs time to think, time you two have obviously
not given her."

"Now
see here," William blurted out, "This ain't seemly."

Stephen's
piercing gaze settled on the lady. "Are you going to tell me where she has
gone or must I follow her trail myself?"

"I
fear my lips are sealed, my lord."

Stephen
gave her a stiff bow and retreated from the room.

William
followed in his shadow. "By Jove, you do love her. Been thinking about
last night. You deliberately gave her back to me, did you not my lord? An
interesting maneuver."

Stephen
grabbed his hat from the hall table. "Yes, well. Napoleon had interesting
maneuvers and look where that led him."

William
looked penitent but Stephen's blood was pounding so hard he thought he might
plant Shelby a facer right there.

Shelby
colored. "Yes, I know you would like to box my ears. And rightly so."
Tears glittered in the man's eyes. "But you find her. She needs you. I
only did what I thought best. I chose you because I thought you would make her
the best of husbands, not some wastrel wanting to spend my money."

With a
sniff, Shelby pulled out a starched white handkerchief and started down the
hall.

Stephen
felt a twinge of pity for the man, but before he could think of something to
say, he was distracted.

“Psssst."

Raising
his gaze, Stephen found Milli hanging over the banister with Cleopatra and
Pharaoh tucked inside the folds of her gown. "Come down from there, you
imp. You might fall."

Milli's
eyes flashed as she pulled away from the banister and started down the stairs.
"You cannot tell me what to do."

"May
I remind you, you called me, not the other way around."

Instantly,
she threw a hand to her head and sighed. "La, I fear all is lost in love
if one does not follow one's heart"

Stephen
rolled his eyes. "What is it Milli?"

"I
know where she is."

"Elizabeth?"

"She
will not like it if I tell."

"I
love her, Milli. I will make her happy if it takes me a hundred years. You have
my solemn word."

Tears
pooled in Milli's eyes. "If you take her, I will have no one. Papa is
always leaving and I don't like it at that stupid Seminary for Females. And
governesses are horrid creatures."

"You
will have someone, Milli. You will have a brother-in-law. And I would never
take your sister from you."

Her
delicate lips folded together as she absorbed his words. "May I come live
with you and Lizzie then?"

"Your
father will have to approve. But you must tell me where your sister is. You
must trust me."

The girl
walked down the last of the steps. "Elizabeth is staying at my aunt's
cottage in the country. I have the direction since I told Lizzie I wanted to
write to her, but all the time I knew you would want it." Her eyes
sparkled with a devilish gleam as she handed him a paper with the information.

"You
little minx."

"I
am that, am I not?" she answered wickedly. "Here, take Pharaoh. Tell
Elizabeth he has not been eating or sleeping."

Stephen
frowned, examining the black-and-white ball of fur in his hands. "Is that
true? He looks healthy enough."

"'Course
it's not true. But if your kisses do not work, you will need another plan. You
cannot be that stupid."

Stephen
laughed, tucking the kitten gently into his coat. "I hope I do not have to
resort to plan B, but just in case, I'll be fully armed."

And
armed he would be. One special license, one kitten, and a few passionate kisses
of undying love should do it. But he would rather face Napoleon than face
Elizabeth's rejection.

"Oh,
and my lord." The girl threw a hand to her heart. "Best tell her you
would die for her." She sighed dramatically. "Tell her your heart
aches for her. Tell her you would cross the ocean for her. Tell her no woman
could ever take her place."

Though
he was eager to find Elizabeth, Stephen could barely hold back his laughter.
"Milli, I am not an actor."

"Well,
if you do not want her running off with someone like Fennington, you had best
do something spectacular."

A muscle
twitched in his jaw at the sound of Fennington's name. And what the blazes did
that girl have in her hand? Hell's bells! It was Fennington's quizzing glass!

"A
knight on a white horse might do it," she said, the quizzing glass
swinging at her hip. "All girls dream of such things."

Stephen
had no idea what she was blabbering about. "Go bother Marcus with that
thing. Vexes him to no end, you know."

Her gray
eyes sparkled with delight. "No, I didn't know. Thank you for the
information, white knight."

Scowling,
Stephen turned on his heels. White knight, indeed.

Elizabeth
threw on her cloak and strolled down the stone walkway leading from the
cottage. A biting wind touched her cheeks, sending the red tulips at the edge
of the fence dancing against each other, reminding her all too well she was no
longer in London.

"Looks
like rain, Miss Shelby," the housekeeper called as she bent to pull a weed
from the flower garden. "Would you care for a ride to the village? Mr.
Baskers can have the hack ready in a few minutes."

Elizabeth
smiled at the plump, older lady. Poor Mrs. Baskers had been keeping a keen eye
on Elizabeth ever since she had showed up at the door. Aunt Polly's doing, no
doubt.

"I
do not believe a little rain will hurt me, Mrs. Baskers. And I do need the
exercise."

The
plump housekeeper frowned. "Mayhap you should take Mr. Baskers along with
you, my dear? A young thing like you should always take an escort into
town."

Elizabeth
laughed. The town included a quaint little inn, a church, a few shops, and a
blacksmith. "I won't be but a few hours. I am in need of some writing materials.
A good walk will help me gather my thoughts."

The
housekeeper shook her head. "A man, it is, then. I knew it the minute you
showed up at the door, all pale and unhappy looking."

Elizabeth
clutched her reticule, refusing to let her misfortunes show in her face.
"It was the ride on those bumpy roads, Mrs. Baskers. Nothing more."

The
elder lady tugged on another weed. "And 'tis a rose I just pulled."

"You
are too smart for your own good, Mrs. Baskers."

"I
be that and more, at least Mr. Baskers says so. As a matter of fact, good
husband that he is, he is cleaning that old shed right now. He's a pack rat,
did you know? Saves things from thirty years ago. Now, if it rains, you stay in
town. I'll be sending Mr. Baskers to fetch you."

Chuckling,
Elizabeth waved as she made her way down the graveled road. The lady's
protective streak was like a breath of fresh air. She frowned suddenly, looking
toward the village. Too bad everyone in life was not as good as Mrs. Baskers.

When
Stephen passed the soaked figure stumbling down the lane, his heart stilled. He
called to the driver to stop the carriage.

Pulling
the door open, he jumped down from the vehicle. "Elizabeth!"

She
turned to him, her surprised face a small oval inside the hood of her wet
cloak. Rain splattered against her pink cheeks. Blue eyes impaled him with such
pain he winced.

She
silently turned and kept walking.

Stephen
hurried alongside her, clutching her elbow. "Elizabeth. Talk to me."

She
avoided his gaze. "Please, unhand me, my lord."

He set
his teeth and let her go. "Oh, for the love of King George, at least get
inside the carriage. I can give you a lift."

She
pulled back her shoulders and ignored him.

Stubborn
was the only word that came to Stephen's mind. He kept pace alongside her.
"Very well, then. If this is what you wish."

"Do
not let me keep you from staying warm and dry, my lord."

"Would
you stop calling me 'my lord'? Use my Christian name."

Surprisingly,
she stopped and tilted her face to stare at him. She looked so delicate, so
vulnerable, he drew on all his strength not to haul her over his shoulder,
throw her into the carriage, and kiss her senseless.