Whirlwind Wedding (4 page)

He tossed a broad wink at Austin. "Those are the most fun."

Frustration welled up and Austin fought to keep his temper in check.

"The young lady I wish to know about is a Miss Elizabeth Matthews."

Miles's brows rose. "Lady Penbroke's American niece?"

Austin schooled his features into a blandness he did not feel. "You've met her?"

"On several occasions. Unlike
some
unsociable sorts we know, I attended dozens of balls this Season—balls Lady Penbroke and Miss Matthews attended. In fact, Miss Matthews is here this evening. Do you wish me to introduce you?"

"We met, earlier, in the garden."

"I see." Although a dozen questions clearly flashed in Miles's eyes, he merely asked "What do you want to know about her?"

Everything.
"As you've met her, tell me your impressions."

Miles took his time before answering, settling himself in an overstuffed wing chair by the fireplace, then swirling his brandy in his snifter with a leisure that had Austin gritting his teeth with impatience.

"I think," Miles finally said, "that she is a fine young woman, intelligent, with a clever wit. Unfortunately, she's somewhat awkward in social situations, tongue-tied and shy one moment, outspoken the next. In truth I thought her rather a breath of fresh air, but based on the gossip I hear, I possibly stand alone in that opinion."

"What gossip? Anything scandalous?"

Miles waved his hand in dismissal. "No, nothing of that sort. Indeed I don't see how the woman could find herself caught in a scandal when nearly everyone shuns her."

An image of a disheveled, smiling woman flashed in Austin's mind.

"Why is she shunned?"

Miles shrugged. "Who can say how these things start? The women twitter behind their fans at her awkwardness on the dance floor and her lack of conversation. Several branded her a bluestocking after she engaged a group of lords in a discussion regarding the benefits of herbal healing. The instant
one
person labels her unacceptable, the rest follow."

"Doesn't Lady Penbroke lend her niece support?"

"I haven't paid particular attention, but no doubt the worst snubs are conducted away from the countess's sharp eyes. But even her formidable support cannot singlehandedly ensure gaining the
ton's
favor."

"Do you know how long she's been in England?"

Miles stroked his chin. "I believe she arrived soon after Boxing Day, so she'd be here about six months."

"I'd like you to find out exactly when she arrived and on what ship. I also want to know if this is her first trip to England."

"Why don't you simply ask her?"

"I did. She claims she arrived six months ago and that this is her first visit here."

Miles's eyes sharpened with interest. "And you don't believe her? May I ask why?"

Forcing nonchalance into his voice, Austin said "It's possible she may have been acquainted with William. I want to know for certain. If she was, I want to know how, when, and where they met."

"Again, why don't you simply ask her?"

Austin suppressed the urge to rake his hands through his hair in frustration. "I cannot say until I know more. I also want to know about her past. Why she left America. Her financial situation. Her family status.

Anything you can find."

"Perhaps you should hire a Bow Street Runner. They—"

"No." The razor-sharp word sliced off Miles's suggestion. He'd already engaged a Runner a fortnight ago to locate the Frenchman named Gaspard —the man he'd seen with William that last time . . . the man Austin suspected knew something about the letter now locked in his desk. He had no wish to involve Bow Street in this matter. "I need complete discretion from someone I trust. Now, will you make the necessary inquiries? You'll most likely need to travel to London."

Miles studied him for several long seconds. "This is important to you."

An image of William rose in his mind. "Yes."

A silent look passed between them, a look born of years of friendship.

"I'll leave in the morning," Miles said. "In the meantime, I'll begin investigating immediately by feeling out some of the party guests about the lady in question."

"An excellent idea. Needless to say, I want any and all information as soon as possible."

"Understood." Miles finished his brandy and stood. "I suppose you know that Miss Matthews and Lady Penbroke are staying here for the next several weeks as your mother's guests."

"Yes. By sending
you
to London, I am able to remain here and keep my eye on Miss Matthews."

Miles quirked a brow. "Is that what you intend to keep on her? Only your eye?"

Austin chilled his already frosty expression to a narrow-eyed iciness.

"Are you quite finished?"

Miles wisely took note of the suddenly arctic air. "Very finished." His expression sobered and he placed a comforting hand on Austin's shoulder.

"Don't worry, my friend. Between the two of us, we'll find out everything there is to know about Miss Elizabeth Matthews."

After the door closed behind Miles, Austin slipped a silver key from his waistcoat pocket and unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk. He withdrew the letter he'd received two weeks ago and reread the words that were already burned in his brain.

Your brother William was a traitor to England. I have the proof, signed by his
own hand. I will remain silent, but it will cost you. You will go to London by
July first. You will receive further instructions there.

Just before dawn the next morning, Elizabeth tiptoed from her room carrying her knapsack.

"Where are you off to so early, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth nearly jumped out of her skin. "Good heavens, Aunt Joanna, you startled me." She smiled at the woman who had opened her heart and her home to her without question. "I thought I'd walk the grounds and do some sketching. Would you care to join me?"

A horrified expression crossed her aunt's plump face. "Thank you, dear, but no. The early morning dew would completely wilt my feathers." She lovingly patted the long ostrich plumes protruding from her chartreuse turban. "I'm going to read in the library until breakfast." Aunt Joanna cocked her head to one side and Elizabeth leaned back to avoid the feathers. "Are you feeling better?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"His grace informed me last evening that you'd retired due to the headache."

Warmth crept up Elizabeth's neck. "Oh! Yes, I'm feeling much improved."

Her aunt eyed her with open curiosity. "Obviously you had an opportunity to speak with the duke. What did you think of him?"

He is devastatingly attractive. And lonely. And he thinks I'm a liar.
"He was very . . . charming. Did you enjoy the party, Aunt Joanna?"

An unladylike snort erupted from between her aunt's lips. "I was having a merry time until Lady Digby and her dreadful daughters surrounded me and I couldn't escape. Never in my life have I encountered such a gaggle of twittering fools. I'll be stunned if she manages to marry off even one of those buttertoothed harpies." She reached out and patted Elizabeth's cheek.

"She is green with envy that my niece is so lovely. We won't have any trouble finding you a husband."

"In case you haven't noticed, Aunt Joanna, we can barely find me a gentleman to dance with."

Her aunt waved a dismissive hand. "Pish posh. You're simply unknown.

No doubt some gentlemen are put off because you're American, what with last century's Rebellion and this most recent series of skirmishes. But things have settled down again, so it's only a matter of time."

"A matter of time for what?"

"Why, until some nice young man takes notice of you."

Elizabeth refrained from pointing out that so far nearly everyone who had taken notice of her had found her lacking. Holding her bag aloft, she said, "I've packed a snack, so I'll see you after breakfast."

A frown puckered her aunt's brow. "Perhaps I should ask a footman to accompany you." Before Elizabeth could protest, her aunt rushed on, "Oh, I suppose it's not necessary. You go along, dear, and enjoy yourself. After all, no one except us is even awake. Who on earth would you meet at this ungodly hour?"

Elizabeth strolled along, relishing the quiet that was broken only by the rustle of leaves and the ravens' caws. She chose paths at random, not particularly caring where she went, just happy to be outdoors. After a while, the forest thinned out to a wide meadow where bees hummed hovering around sweet-smelling honeysuckle. Colorful butterflies flitted over clumps of red and yellow wildflowers.

She soon reached a picturesque lake. Pale shafts of hesitant gold light peeped down between leafy tree branches, offering a dawn-kissed shady retreat. Removing her sketch pad from her knapsack, she sank down on the grass and propped her back against the trunk of a huge oak tree.

A frisky squirrel peeked at her from a nearby tree branch and she quickly sketched him. A family of timid rabbits made another subject before they hopped away to the safety of the tall grass. She drew a detailed picture of Patch, her heart pinching as she thought of her beloved dog. She'd wanted desperately to bring him to England but he was old and infirm and she knew he wouldn't have survived the rigorous ocean journey. She'd left him behind along with a piece of her heart, with people who loved him almost as much as she did.

Forcing aside the melancholy that thoughts of Patch evoked she drew a likeness of Gadzooks. When she finished however, she quickly banished the kitten from her mind. If she thought about the furry beast, she'd recall the rest of her time in the garden . .. and the man she'd met there. The man whose hidden sadness and loneliness had touched her heart, a man she knew had secrets that tore at his soul.

She'd offered to help him, but she'd spent half the night wondering if she'd been too hasty. The Duke of Bradford obviously did not believe in her second sight.

Could she somehow convince him? After last evening, it did not appear so, but she wanted, needed to help him. Wanted to erase the shadows she'd felt darkening his happiness. And needed, for herself, to try and make up for the havoc she'd caused in America. Surely her guilt would ease if she could somehow reunite the duke with the brother he believed dead.

No, she had not been too hasty in offering to help him. In fact, she was determined to do so, whether he wanted her to or not. All she needed to do was provide some sort of definite proof that his brother was indeed alive.

To do that, however, she'd need to touch him again.

Heat shot through her at the thought. He'd haunted her sleep, his handsome face, his intense eyes, his strong body. He'd made her wish, for one useless instant, that she'd looked beautiful and elegant, and that a man like him might actually be interested in her for more than a fleeting moment. And he had been interested as she'd discovered when he'd touched her hand. He had wanted to kiss her.

His thoughts had come to her so clearly, so unexpectedly. Her breath caught at the thought of his lips caressing hers, his strong arms pulling her close, pressing her against his body. What would it feel like to be kissed by such a man? Touched and held by him?
Heaven . . . It would feel like heaven.

A sigh escaped her, the sort of feminine sigh she'd thought herself incapable of. Shifting herself to a more comfortable position, she gave in to her longing, closed her eyes, and imagined what his kiss would feel like.

*

Austin caught sight of a yellow skirt fluttering in the breeze and reined Myst to a halt. Bloody hell, was he
never
to find himself alone?

He would have turned back, but he'd ridden Myst hard for the last hour and the gelding needed a rest and a drink.

Resigned to making idle conversation for a few moments with one of his mother's houseguests, he approached the lake. As he rounded the huge oak tree, he drew up short.

It was her. The woman who had disrupted his sleep and invaded his every thought since he awoke. The woman he needed to find out more about. She sat beneath the shady tree, her eyes closed a half smile touching her lips.

He dismounted and walked quietly toward her, studying her all the while. Shiny auburn curls surrounded her face in windblown disarray. He scrutinized her in an unhurried fashion, taking in her porcelain skin, long lashes, and those remarkable, tempting lips.

His gaze continued downward drawn to her slender throat and the creamy skin that glowed above her modest bodice. Her legs appeared impossibly long under her muslin gown.

The breeze dislodged another curl from her somewhat haphazard chignon, and it brushed across her mouth. Her lips twitched several times and her eyes peeked open a crack as she flicked the bothersome lock aside.

Austin knew the exact instant she saw his black riding boots in front of her. She stiffened and blinked. Then her gaze traveled upward and she gasped.

"Your grace!" She bounded to her feet and performed a curtsy that most would have labeled graceless, but that he found utterly charming.

"Good morning, Miss Matthews. It seems you were correct when you predicted you would not be hard to find. I seem to run into you everywhere I go."

Heat flashed in Elizabeth's cheeks. How disconcerting to be daydreaming of a man kissing you breathless only to open your eyes and find that very man watching you. And good heavens, what a wildly attractive man he was.

The filtered light from the rising sun shimmered on his raven hair. A single, windblown lock fell across his forehead lending him an almost boyish appeal completely at odds with the compelling intensity of his gray eyes. Aristocratic bearing and masculine strength all but oozed from his tall, rugged frame.