A Season for Love (3 page)

All in all, Isabella would suit, he supposed.

* * * *

“I think Lord Bingington really likes you,” Julianna chatted happily at breakfast the next morning. “He danced nearly every dance with you and hardly looked at another girl.”

Isabella smiled smugly. “I suspect he will be asking for my hand soon. Perhaps even before the Season begins.”

Elizabeth forced herself to swallow a suddenly tasteless lump of porridge and looked down at her plate. How could she have been so naïve to think Darian—
Lord Bingington
—was a commoner? He’d said his parents managed the estate. They
owned
it by right of the king. If being a duke’s heir weren’t bad enough, Darian’s—
Lord Bingington
—heroism at Vitoria would secure him the hand of any eligible lady of the peerage.

Julianna’s voice was much more subdued. “Does that mean you will not have a Season? Papa would never let me be presented this year if you did not go.”

“Of course I will have a Season! I am not about to be denied all the fun and social world of Town. I will just not say a definite ‘yes’ until later,” Isabella replied. “Besides, if I am going to be a marchioness, I want to integrate myself with the
ton
to ensure my own social standing. Our father is an earl, remember.”

Julianna giggled, happy again. “Do you think some handsome swain might seek my hand? Maybe Edward? His Grace said last night that Edward was due back any day.”

“Do not even think to be in his company alone,” Isabella exclaimed. “He is much too worldly for you and you would be disgraced before you even knew why.” She relented a little at Julianna’s fallen face. “You really are too young at six-and-ten. Papa is allowing you to get your feet wet. And, since Elizabeth is included, I am sure she was meant to act as your chaperone.”

Elizabeth put her fork down. She would cast up her accounts if she tried to eat another bite. Chaperone? Surely, she wasn’t
that
old. Besides which, she’d never been married or even courted. What did she know about being a chaperone?

“I am not sure I am suitable,” she said.

Isabella narrowed her eyes slightly as she studied Elizabeth. “You may be right,” she said. “You
did
swoon last night for no reason that I could see. Perhaps crowds are not the best thing.”

“Why
did
you swoon?” Julianna asked, concern in her voice. “It seems so not like you.”

What could she say? Certainly not that the man who had ‘rescued’ her from a mud puddle—the one she spent countless hours recounting the feel of his arms around her and the hardness his chest as she pressed against it—and whom she thought might make a suitable husband turned out to be the duke’s son. It was embarrassing enough that the earl had the carriage brought around and Aunt Catherine had sent her home.

“Perhaps my corset was laced too tightly,” she answered. “Isabella’s gown—lovely as it was—was a bit small for me.”

“Then you shall have new ones made,” Julianna responded promptly.

“Is it worth the effort?” Isabella asked. “I have several gowns that have only been worn once. After all, Elizabeth is a bit long in the tooth to come out.” She turned to Elizabeth. “Do not worry though. Papa will find a husband for you, since you are… related. A squire’s son perhaps. I think Tomas Delaney down the road has a son close to your age.”

Julianna widened her eyes. “Do you mean John? He must be over forty and cranky to boot.”

Isabella waved her hand airily. “A wife can cure crankiness.”

Elizabeth took a deep breath and stood up. She had to get out of the room before she said something she would regret. “Please do not concern yourself over my marital state. Before my parents…passed, I was going to assume a position as governess. It is something I will probably still do.” Actually, that was a brilliant idea. Getting away from here before Darian—
Lord Bingington
, she corrected for the umpteenth time—actually married Isabella. Elizabeth didn’t want to be present for that
.

Julianna looked horrified. “Papa would never allow a relative to work as a commoner.”

Elizabeth smiled at her. Julianna may be six-and-ten, but she’d been protected from the real world and was enthusiastically optimistic about most things. Unlike Isabella, who was ambitious and looked out for her own interests.

“But, my dear,” Elizabeth said to Julianna, “I am a commoner. My papa was your father’s brother, but he had no title and when he chose to become a vicar, the prince regent regained his lands.”

“Still,” Julianna retorted stubbornly, “you are living with us. I should like to have you as my chaperone. Please, please say you will stay…at least for the Season. I need you.”

Elizabeth took another deep breath. It was hard to deny the earnestness of the young girl’s plea. “I suspect you will have your beaus wrapped around your little finger,” she said with a smile.

“Does that mean you will stay? Please?”

She should say no. She should go to the earl tomorrow and tell him she wished to be a governess. She should get as far away from Stafford as possible. And yet…a part of her wanted to stay. To see Darian—
Lord Bingington
—again, if only from a distance. Such foolishness. She should listen to her head…

She sighed. “I will stay, at least for the Season.”

* * * *

Several days later, Elizabeth heard horses cantering through the gates and looked out the window of the parlor to see Darian dismounting in the courtyard. A man with light brown hair, bleached blonde by the sun, accompanied him.

Julianna leaned over her shoulder. “That is Edward. He is home!”

“Let me see.” Isabella moved quickly toward them. “Darian did not say he planned to call this morning.”

Elizabeth tried not to flinch at Isabella’s use of his familiar name. No doubt he’d asked her to use it.

“Do you not remember?” Julianna asked. “Lord Bingington told Papa at the ball that he wanted to see about breeding some horses.”

“A lady does not use that term,” Isabella admonished.

Julianna rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue. “Who is going to hear?”

“Ahem.” From the doorway, the butler cleared his throat and Julianna blushed, but he merely bowed and held out a card. “If you are receiving, the lords would like to call on you before they conduct their business.”

Isabella smoothed the sprigged muslin of her day dress and touched her curls. “It is somewhat ill-mannered, but this
is
the country. You may show them in.”

Elizabeth felt a flock of butterflies fluttering in her stomach. It was too late to make an escape. She would have to go through the door into the hallway. She moved to a corner, partially blocked from view by a Grecian urn and tried to be calm.

“Thank you for seeing us on such short notice,” Darian said as he and his brother came into the room and bowed in Isabella’s direction. “Edward returned home yesterday and insisted we ride over this morning.”

“I have been gone too long and you have only grown more beautiful.” Edward bent over Isabella’s hand and kissed it. Then he straightened and winked at Julianna. “Hello, Muffin. It looks like you’ve grown up too.”

“She would probably prefer Lady Julianna,” Darian said.

“I guess I cannot call you Ragamuffin anymore, can I?” Edward said. “I do not see a hair out of place or a tear in your dress anywhere.
Lady Julianna
.” But he winked again and she blushed.

“Where is Elizabeth?” Darian asked.

Drat
. She’d hoped she wouldn’t be noticed. “Here.” She stepped away from the shadows. He turned, his brilliant green gaze sweeping over her and her face grew warm. He strode over and took her hand, leading her into the center of the room. Just the simple touch of his bare hand covering hers sent tingles coursing through her arm. She extracted her hand before her entire body started to quiver.

“Why are you hiding back there?” he asked.

“Yes, indeed, why would you keep yourself hidden? Beauty should always be displayed and admired,” Edward said.

Darian grimaced. “May I present my brother, Edward?”

Elizabeth looked at him, expecting to find him impertinently scrutinizing her body as any rogue of his reputation would, but instead found him gazing into her face. His eyes were the color of whiskey and as clear. For a moment longer, he studied her and then he turned to his brother and grinned.

“Does she have a name or do I have to ask her myself?”

Darian stiffened. “Of course. Miss Elizabeth Townsend.”

“She is our cousin,” Julianna added, “and has come to live with us.”

“Well, I can see why you wanted to keep her to yourself, brother.”

Complete silence met his remark. Elizabeth wished she could crawl under the Aubusson carpet
.

Isabella stepped over and laid her hand on Darian’s arm. “Darian has asked Papa if he might court me.”

Elizabeth prayed that the floorboards would open and swallow her whole.

Edward’s grin faded. “I see.” His eyes held Isabella’s for a long moment and then he turned toward Elizabeth. “In that case, since I do not have to fear my brother will call me out when I have only just returned, I would like to request the pleasure of your company for a carriage ride tomorrow, if I may? With the proper footmen attending, of course.”

Could she refuse? Dare she? Or maybe more importantly, should she? Jumbled thoughts flew through her head like pigeons trying to avoid a hawk. She had no idea of why Darian’s brother would seek her company. Then she remembered what Julianna had said about Edward having a
tendre
for Isabella. He was trying to keep his pride after learning about her courtship. And Elizabeth needed to keep her pride too. Darian must never know how she had foolishly entertained thoughts of them together. She lifted her chin and smiled at Edward.

“I would be delighted.”

Chapter Three

Darian didn’t know why he felt out-of-sorts with his brother as they walked across the courtyard toward the earl’s stables. Edward had always been glib and women had always been attracted to him. So why was Darian surprised when Elizabeth—Miss Townsend—smiled and said she would be go on a carriage ride? “
I would be delighted to
,” she’d said. He had a sudden, unexplained urge to tell her she couldn’t go.

“Why so dour?” Edward said as they entered the barn. “Horse breeding used to be one of your passions.”

“It still is,” Darian answered as one of the Andalusians thrust her sleek head over the half-door and regarded them with intelligent, liquid eyes. He stroked her velvet muzzle absently.

“As I remember, Isabella cared not to be around horses,” Edward said.

Because she didn’t want to get her dresses dirty
. A picture of Elizabeth trying to stand in the road, her boots mired in mud and her habit wet with slushy snow came into Darian’s mind. She hadn’t even remarked on the condition of her clothes. She’d been more worried that the horse would return home lathered.

“She still doesn’t. Isabella does not care for the outdoors. I am sure she is looking forward to moving to Town for the Season.”

Edward grinned. “I am looking forward to everything London has to offer myself. Mornings at White’s, afternoons flirting with silly ingénues and nights…” He shrugged, his grin widening. “Nights with an enticing female old enough to reciprocate in pleasure.”

Darian looked at him sharply. “I hope you do not have any intentions of ruining Eliz—Miss Townsend’s reputation.”

Edward returned his look. “I have learned to be discreet. I dare say Miss Townsend is hardly a blushing innocent. She is well over twenty—”

“She is not some lonely widow, Ed!”

His brother arched a brow. “Do I discern some special interest on your part?”

No. Yes. What was it about Elizabeth
…? “She has lost her parents recently and has no brothers or sisters. I would not want to see you use her for a bit of sport and then discard her.”

  Edward managed to look insulted. “You give me little credit for maturing while I was in exile.”

Darian studied him. “So you are ready to settle down and marry? Start a family?”

“Good Lord, man! I did not say I wanted the parson’s noose around my neck! I meant that perhaps I have learned to appreciate certain qualities in a woman that I had not noticed before.”

A flash of red blurred Darian’s vision at the thought of a naked Elizabeth lying in his brother’s arms. “Like maturity?”

Edward shrugged again. “Perhaps.” Then he shifted the conversation. “When did you decide to court Isabella?”

The furious thunder of anger receded from Darian’s head. “As heir to the duchy, my responsibility is to marry into the peerage and have children. Even though Isabella craves the trappings of London’s
ton
much more than I do, the earl’s property borders ours. A good alliance.”