Already His (The Caversham Chronicles - Book Two) (6 page)

Yes, she would make some horse-mad fop a decent enough wife. And with a dowry as ample as hers, she’d be betrothed before the season ended.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were talking about yourself,” Ren stated, matter-of-factly as he met Michael’s gaze over the rim of his coffee cup. “But we do know better, don’t we?”

Michael turned his attention to the egg and sausage on his plate, determined to explore this peculiar feeling later. “Most certainly, Your Grace. I don’t need any added troubles under my roof. Have enough as it is, what with my mother and now my sisters pushing all these women at me—everything from barely-out-of-the-schoolroom misses to widows older than I.” He shook his head for emphasis. “I certainly don’t need your hellion sister sharpening her claws on my fair heart.” He sipped his coffee, and looked up into the sympathetic face of the duke. “No, my friend, the safe route’s the one for me.”

“Ha! That’ll be the day, you rapscallion.” Everyone turned to the doorway when a silver-turbaned Lady Sewell entered the room leaning on her cane. Michael and Ren stood as the duke’s elderly grandmother came to take her usual seat to Michael’s left.

“Good morning, my lady,” Michael said as he placed a kiss on the older woman’s wrinkled cheek, and assisted her to her chair. A footman brought her a plate with her usual breakfast, then cut her ladyship’s ham steak for her, and stepped back from the table.

“Camden, when your three months mourning are over you had best have a future wife in mind.”

“I thought I’d marry you, darling,” Michael said. “After all, we get along smashingly and I’ve never had a whist partner as sharp as you.”

“If I could give you the heir you need, I’d take you up on it.” The woman’s blue-gray eyes sparkled with mischief as she forked a fluffy piece of egg.

“If it wasn’t considered bad form, you would have every one of my dances tonight, my lady.” Michael said, as he realized their conversation was causing his friend to squirm in his seat.

“I told Elise last night that if I were a young miss again I’d not settle for anything less than a man who’s kiss made my lady parts quiver and my brain turn to mush.” His Grace choked on his coffee, as his duchess serenely scooped the yolk from her egg cup as though the ribald dialogue was a normal occurrence. “Ah Camden.... If I were a few years younger, I’d make you my third husband.”

T
he servants would later say amongst themselves that they all heard His Grace choke on the mouthful of food he’d been about to swallow. A footman stood poised to run for the family physician in case his presence became necessary—which, thankfully, was not.

C
HAPTER
T
WO

“O
h, Elise,” Beverly whispered, her voiced tinged with a hushed reverence, “you’re beautiful! You’re the living image of a nymph, or siren. The image is inspiring of....”

“Scandal,” her maid said flatly. “It’s goin’ to cause a scandal, I say. And this family has never had the likes of the one you’re about to bring down on it.”

“Bridget, you will please refrain from your pessimistic diatribe.” Elise fidgeted on her stool, as she considered the worst that could possibly happen. She decided whatever her brother might do to her tomorrow, however he might punish her, it would all be worth it if tonight went well. Because this was the moment she’s dreamed of for as long as she could remember. She wanted to see the expression on Michael’s face when she reappeared to take her place in the reception line. She hoped beyond all hope that he appreciated the effort she’d put into looking her best, albeit unlike any other young lady of their set.

Her hands trembled as she attempted to unclasp the sapphire necklace she’d worn with the rose and white dress. “I must hurry and get in the reception line with my brother and Lia.” She stared at the simple gown and knew the image she wanted to portray differed greatly from the one reflected back at her. She lowered the necklace to the dresser top, and began to think. She then removed the drop diamond and sapphire earrings, then the tiara, which didn’t sit on her head quite right anyway. “Better,” she mumbled, “but not perfect.”

Elise rummaged through her jewel chest for another pair of earrings, then put on the more simple pearl drops. She met her friend’s gaze in the mirror. “Beverly, may I borrow the wreath you wore in your hair at Lady Herrin’s masque? I know your father brought it to you from his travels in Europe, but if I promise to be careful with it, may I?”

Her friend’s eyes widened as a smile grew on her face. “Oh, that would be perfect,” her friend whispered before she exited the suite and went across the hall to the one she used while they were in town. She returned within a minute, and said “I just met Her Grace in the hallway and stopped her from entering your room. She said to hurry as they have started receiving guests.”

Carriages continued to pull forward in front of their house on Upper Brook as they had for the last ten minutes, their wheels and horses’ hooves drowned out by the sounds of tittering women’s voices and the deep-tenored laugh of their male escorts. With each passing moment of the last hour, even as she pushed her favorite dessert around the plate, Elise had debated whether or not she should change into this gown. But the awed reaction of her dearest friend as she placed the thin wreath of delicate gold and white silk flowers in her hair validated her decision to go forward with her plan. She was more determined now than ever, to go downstairs with her head held high and flashing her most honest, dazzling smile, and win the heart of the man who’d held hers for nearly all her life.

“No young lady in your position should appear so inappropriately dressed,” her maid said as she placed the last hair pin in Elise’s borrowed headpiece.

“For the last time, Bridget, there is nothing inappropriate about my gown or my appearance.” Practicing her smile on her maid, she added, “And there’s nothing you can say to make me feel less than perfect tonight.”

M
ichael stood amidst a group of friends gathering at the base of the wide, curving staircase. Discussion centered around the latest doings of the parliamentary session. He occasionally inserted the appropriate comment here and there to pretend interest, but there was no use denying the fact that he really didn’t know what the devil they
were
actually talking about. His thoughts were elsewhere at the moment.

When the Duke and Duchess had taken their places in the receiving line, which was noticeably absent one particular debutant honoree, he’d taken his position here, at the base of the steps and waited. The little minx was supposed to be in the line with her grandmother, brother and sister-in-law. Her Grace was giving the excuse to those coming through the line that Elise was feeling nervous. Which wasn’t an untruth as he could attest to from this morning.

But, Elise was up to something. He sensed it. And that was the reason he stood in just this spot. It had nothing to do with the company that gathered around him, but everything to do with the fact that the proverbial female thorn in his side had to come down these particular steps and make her way to the reception line behind him.

He noticed his friend’s forced smile as Lady Charnwood held him captive, likely filling his ear with her opinions on reform. As the older woman spoke, Michael caught his friend’s eye intermittently glancing to the top of the steps. Finally, Lady Charnwood moved on and His Grace leaned over and whispered to his wife, and the Duchess excused herself from the line. Michael made way for her as she walked past him and the other gentleman with a smile and a nod, to make her way up the steps. It was obvious to Michael that Ren had sent his wife upstairs to check on what was keeping Elise.

When she returned mere minutes later, he saw her whisper into her husband’s ear. Though His Grace nodded at his wife’s words, Michael knew his friend well. The strained smile on his face hid Ren’s ire. She had best not pull a prank and embarrass her brother and sister-in-law on this night for they had gone above and beyond the norm for her come-out. To disrespect them by making them receive her guests was beginning to irritate
him
.

A collective intake of breath sounded from several guests waiting in the line that extended out the front door of Caversham House. When Michael saw their gazes raised to the top of the steps, he turned. All conversation in the hall below halted, and every well-coiffed head turned to the landing as Lady Elise Halden appeared. Drawing his gaze upward, he felt an invisible blow to his gut.

Standing at the top of the steps she paused and met his gaze, a radiant smile breaking across her face. A woodland nymph come to life, she was as ethereal and enchanting as all the stories of maidens of the forests he’d ever heard. Atop her head was no debutant’s tiara, but a delicate wreath of tiny gold and white flowers which accentuated the effect. A gold ribbon curled forward to caress her collarbone. Her filmy gold silk shawl slid casually down her arms, baring an expanse of creamy skin. The man who took her to wife would a fortunate man indeed.

His mouth watered.

He had to shake the erotic image from his mind. Reminding himself that this was his best friend’s little sister. The same sister he swore he’d never think of in this manner. The same minx who climbed a trellis to reach his balcony and watch him dress, only to fall into the flower beds below when she’d lost her hold. Michael was here as Ren’s friend, to wish the young lady well in her husband-hunting endeavors. Not that
he
was interested in her as anything other than
his best friend’s sister
. Perhaps if he reminded himself of that often enough, the salacious thoughts running through his head would do the honorable thing and disappear.

She smiled the knowing smile of a young woman who was certain of her beauty and worth. He watched as she met the crowd’s censorious stares, with her own smiling countenance, her gaze daring any one of them to even hint that she’d done anything inappropriate.

Michael was certain some of the ladies in attendance had waited with bated breath to see what Elise would wear, or do, so as to gossip about her behavior over morning calls the next day. And gossip they would, for this gown highlighted Elise’s uniqueness in a most fitting way.

But the men also had waited to see the duke’s notoriously unconventional sister. While waiting, Michael overheard several of the unattached young bucks say they were excited she was finally available for them to court.

Thinking back just ten hours, in the dining room at breakfast, Michael had prophesied that Elise would be betrothed before the end of the season. Knowing the chit in question—and her brother—watching this should prove to be most entertaining.

Michael almost felt sorry for all the other debs coming out this year because Elise never did anything with mediocrity, but with a brilliance and enthusiasm that far out-shone the rest of her fair sex. In all his days, he’d never known any woman so brave as to buck convention and be true to herself as he knew Elise to be. The hem on the simple ivory dress was cut well above the ankles on both sides, while the front and back ended in a point that touched the ground between the lady’s feet. The design revealed more ankle than was the norm for a ball gown.

Glimpsed from the side when she walked were transparent stockings, a sheer match to her dress, again hinting at more flesh than was appropriate for a young, unmarried lady. Still, the outright simplicity and lack of adornment on her gown, and the fact she wore no jewels but tiny, delicate pearl drop earrings, completed the nymph-like image. Whether her intent was to cause a sensation, attract the attention of every single male from twenty to eighty in attendance, or to sow seeds of jealousy amongst her competition, she succeeded.

Michael could not envision any other woman wearing such a gown and looking as exquisite as Elise. Her graceful, willowy form carried the fitted dress like a glove. It hugged her tight as a corset down to her waist, and from there fell smoothly down to the unconventional hemline. For a moment he wondered how such a sleeveless, strapless creation remained on her body without slipping down—especially as Elise hadn’t the ample bosom most men desired.

What the hell did they know anyway.

When she reached the bottom of the steps, Michael barely managed a smile and a greeting. He wanted to shout out to the entire room,
Look! See what a lovely young lady this termagant has blossomed into!
Taking her gloved hand into his, he managed to say, “You are radiant, my lady.” He placed a kiss atop her knuckles. “More beautiful than if you’d chosen to adorn yourself with frills and diamonds.”

“Thank you, my lord, but that doesn’t negate the fact that I feel much like a head of cattle at auction,” she said, that devilish twinkle unmistakable in her gold-flecked amber eyes. “Available to the highest bidder, or in this case the oldest, most noble title.”

Michael threw his head back and laughed, breaking the tension between them. Her brother stared at her, his expression resolute, lips thinned, trying to mask his rising ire. Michael said, “Or one led to slaughter unless you comport yourself appropriately from this second forward.” He held out his arm and Elise put her hand on his, and Michael led her to the reception line a few feet away. Behind her, Elise’s friend Beverly followed.

Leaning in close enough for Michael to catch a whiff of her faint lavender scent, she whispered, “And, as I’ve recently been reminded, any candidate for husband must also be in possession of wealth comparable to my own, or His Grace refuses to entertain the man’s offer.”