Midnight Bride (7 page)

In her safe world of warmth and semidarkness, Elizabeth tried to relax. He was gone. No one knew that he had been in her room or in her bed. The last thought made her shiver. Once again she saw that arm, those legs, that chest, and those smiling blue eyes. Now she was trembling. How had he gotten into her room without her realizing what had happened?

Over and over again Elizabeth reviewed the morning's events, always stopping when she saw him on the floor with the pillow as his only covering. He had been as surprised as she. He had simply sat there, shocked. Her mind had a vivid picture of him imprinted on it. His chest was so broad, and his legs had seemed to go on forever. The way they had poked out of her feminine lace and silk bed hangings brought a smile to her face for a moment, a very brief moment.

"At least I will never forget his name," she whis
pered quietly. The knowledge did her little good. She would never be able to look at him again. How would she get through the next few days? Had Charles told her how long his guests were staying?

Charles! If he ever found out what had happened, he would kill the man. And everyone else would know what had happened, she thought ruefully, remembering her brother's habit of speaking before thinking. He would never know, she promised herself. She pulled the covers from around her head and straightened her body until she was lying as precisely positioned as if she were in a coffin. Then she laughed quietly. If Dunstan had reached his room successfully, Charles would never know. They were safe. She smoothed the silk coverlet as though she were petting a cat.

But how had he gotten into her room? Remembering how she had been plagued by fortune hunters during her first Season, Elizabeth could not help wondering if Dunstan's gambling debts had led him to her room. A rich wife would solve many problems. Then why would he have left so easily?

"He didn't." She sat up straight in bed as she said it, her eyes flashing. "I agreed to meet him at eleven. I gave my pledge." She lay back down and began to close her eyes when another thought brought her out of bed completely. "What if someone has seen him?"

Too agitated to be still, Elizabeth paced from one end of the room to another. Dire scenes filled her head. Dunstan planned to trap her in marriage, get his hands on her money, and gamble it away. She could see herself in a few years, penniless and living on her brother's generosity. "And Charles's wife probably will not like me," she said to herself. "Even Cousin Louisa has a better life than I will have." She whirled around, a hand over her mouth. "Cousin Louisa!" How would her cousin ever be able to hold her head up in town again? She would feel as though she had failed the family. Big tears began to form in Elizabeth's eyes as she thought of the consequences the morning might have.

Then her eyes grew wider. He had been in bed with her—with no clothes on. Could he have—? Hastily she ran her hands over her body. She climbed back into bed, looking for the signs that gossips said always followed that type of action. She could find nothing. The lack did not reassure as it should have. She wasn't sure what she was looking for. She felt much the same as she had the evening before. In fact, with her headache finally gone, she felt better. The thought made her more nervous.

What was she going to do? One trip across the room brought her close to the clock on the mantel. It was only eight o'clock. How would she ever get through the morning? She crossed the room to her bed, climbed the steps, and lay down again. This time her chill did not dissipate with the warmth of the covers. She had to meet him at eleven. She had no choice if she wished to avoid a scandal.

A scandal—the words sent her back under the covers again. After her last experience of being the object of scorn for society, Elizabeth wanted nothing more to do with scandal. She remembered the day as clearly as though it had happened six minutes ago instead of six years. Only the evening before her
fiancé,
Cousin Louisa, and she had been to a ball, leaving early because Jack had said he had an early morning engage
ment
he wanted to be fresh for. She had laughed and teased him about it, trying to get him to explain, coaxing him to stay for one more dance. But even her sweetest smiles and softest words had not swayed him. He had found Cousin Louisa and sent for their cloaks, putting her
pomona
green velvet over that lovely white muslin sprigged with a matching green. She shook slightly as she remembered how Jack's hands had caressed her
shoulders,
his kiss had brushed her cheek lightly. She could not force herself to wear that shade of green
again,
a shade she connected with betrayal.

Their carriage ride home had been quiet except for Louisa's chatter. Jack had sat across from her, his dark brown eyes fixed on hers and a smile on his lips. He had escorted them inside and waited, seemingly impatiently, for Louisa to say her good nights, waited for the brief minutes that an engaged couple were allowed. He had gathered her into his arms, kissing her so passionately that she had protested a little, her eyes frightened but sparkling. Then he had gone, leaving her to dream of him and their life together.

It was the last time she had seen him. On her breakfast tray the next morning there had been a note explaining that he had to leave England unexpectedly. He would not be returning for some time. He was certain she would want to place an announcement ending their engagement in the papers. She had stared at the note, stunned. Tears poured out. The maid, returning for the tray, found her crying so hard the girl was frightened. Hurriedly she had sent for Elizabeth's stepmother.

For that week Elizabeth had stayed in her room. The announcement appeared in the papers, adding fuel to what was already a hotbed of gossip. Not until Elizabeth made her first foray into pub
lic again did she learn the rest of the story. Several of her acquaintances were only too happy to tell her. Her
fiancé
had not left alone; the ladybird over
whom
he had fought a duel and killed a man had gone with him. After learning that, Elizabeth noticed how a buzz began when her name was announced, followed by a dead silence and then renewed buzzing. People watched her. After the second ball when she sat out every dance, Elizabeth refused to leave the house. She had not wanted to go to the second ball, but her stepmother had persuaded her.

Finally her father called her into his study. "What are we to do, Elizabeth?" he
asked,
his voice soft.

She was only able to cry at first. Then she managed to whisper, "Let me go home."

Her father looked at her sharply. Then his eyes narrowed as they did when he was considering an idea. "But your mother wishes to stay in London."

"Cousin Louisa will go with me."

"Is it fair to ask her to do so?" her father asked quietly.

She hung her head, ashamed. "No," she said, her face sad.

Her father looked at her, the stern look disappearing as he noted the way her mouth turned down. "I suppose we could ask what she thinks of the idea," he said reluctantly.

Of course, Louisa, as determined as anyone to save Elizabeth pain, had agreed. Within a week they were at home. Charles, sent down from Eton because of fisticuffs with someone who laughed at Elizabeth, tried to cheer her up. But she spent most days alone in her room. At last Louisa had enough. Elizabeth smiled as she remembered the way her cousin had attacked her, calling her a
layabout
, a person with no bottom. She needed to
remember who she was, hold her head proudly, and show the world she could not be affected by the scandal.

Elizabeth tried, she really did. But she would burst into sobs at the most inconvenient times. Even Amelia was almost ready to let her drown in her tears. She was the talk of the country.

Finally she learned to put a shell around herself when she went into public. She danced with people and even gossiped a little during the Christmas holidays that year. She reluctantly returned to London for the Season. To her parents' dismay, however, she had become ill after only one ball, and the doctor suggested removing her to the country to allow her to recover. She never returned to the capital.

Later that year her father bought the manor and established
Carstairs
there. She spent the fall helping her stepmother redecorate the place. When her father died suddenly that winter, Elizabeth was not at all surprised to learn that he had left her a life interest in the manor. With most of his property entailed he had ensured her independence in the only way he knew. When her stepmother returned to society after her mourning, Elizabeth moved to the manor. Gradually she was accepted by the country gentry. And all might be lost because of one night.

Too restless to remain in bed any longer, she reached for the bell pull to summon Miller. She would dress, perhaps in the new apricot sprigged muslin; she was not going to let Dunstan see that she was worried. She had learned something from her earlier brush with scandal—presenting a calm exterior helped quiet the gossiping tongues. Somewhere deep inside another motive was lurking. She wanted Dunstan to see her at her best.

Had she known it, as far as Dunstan was con-
cerned
he had already seen her at her best, her hair tousled, the morning sun shining through her nightgown and illuminating her figure. It was that picture that kept recurring as he lay in his bed waiting for eleven. She had to marry him.

But like Elizabeth, Dunstan was worried. As far as he knew no one had seen him as he made his way to the room assigned him. But he wasn't sure. What if a servant had come into the hallway behind him? It would not be the first time someone had tried to trap him into marriage.

Since he had inherited his title eighteen months earlier, he had been astonished to find himself the object of matchmaking mothers as well as his own matchmaking grandfather. But remembering Elizabeth's shocked face, he had to acquit her of trying to trap him. Her innocence did not absolve others, though.
Her cousin?
He shook his head slightly; the lady had been too busy questioning Charles and flirting lightheartedly with her captive audience to plot something so devious. Charles? The thought gave him pause for a moment. Then he shook his head again. Charles had been so castaway by early in the evening he would have been unable to think of it.

Or had he? Once again Dunstan tried to review the events of the previous evening. They had dined early, keeping country house. The meal, since Elizabeth had not been there to plan the menus, was a simple one, only three removes. The chef, determined to reveal his expertise to a more varied audience, had prepared crimped cod and smelts, cutlets
à
la
Mainteon
, beef
Tremalon
, oyster loaves, and black caps served with fresh spring vegetables from the forcing house. Remembering how much they had eaten the evening before made Dunstan's stomach feel queasy. But he would have to get the recipe for black caps from the cook, he
reminded himself. His grandfather enjoyed apple desserts, especially if they were made with apples from their own orchards.

The thought of his grandfather made Dunstan stiffen. Had the man been so lost to propriety to somehow arrange this? No, he had to admit that even to see him married, his grandfather would not use those methods. Besides, he knew the girl his grandfather had in mind. Because of her he had not been to the country estate since Christmas. Briefly he compared his grandfather's choice to Elizabeth: the girl was pretty in a typical sort of way—blonde, blue eyed, angelic; Elizabeth was stunning, everything a man could want in a wife. Dunstan laughed as he remembered the look on her face when he had refused to leave. He settled back more comfortably into his pillows, his face calm. No matter who had arranged this, he was going to marry her. There would be no scandal.

Scandal was something he had lived with for most of his life—not his own but his father's and elder brother's. They had run with the Prince of Wales's cohorts. There was nothing they would not try. After his mother's death, his uncle, his mother's brother, had grown tired of Dunstan's father and his constant borrowing. His father's scandalous behavior had made him turn them off the estate. Dunstan remembered the last interview with his uncle. After the gentleman had given the viscount his notice to quit the place, he turned to Dunstan. "You are welcome to stay, Robert," his uncle assured him. "I will send you to school and will treat you as though you were my own son."