Midnight Bride (16 page)

"Leave. Why, you . . ." Hartley reached for her, but Elizabeth drew back. The maid, her eyes growing wider, darted forward and stood close by her mistress's side. Hartley pulled himself up as tall and menacing as he could. "We shall see what your brother has to say about this. And then we will talk again," he said, his voice seeming to promise retribution. This time Hartley did not try to hide the anger in his face or in his voice. He plunged past Elizabeth, giving her only a moment to pull back and to avoid being knocked to the ground.

As soon as she walked into her home, Elizabeth told the maid who accompanied her, "Find Jeffries. Send him to me immediately." The girl nodded and scurried away.

His face stiff and his back ramrod-straight, Jeffries listened as Elizabeth explained that it was imperative that she see her brother immediately. He frowned slightly at her tone. "Mr. Hartley has also been inquiring for him," he told her stiffly.

"Did he find him?" Elizabeth
asked,
her face carefully unconcerned although her voice shook a little.

"No. He left word with me that I was to tell Mr. Beckworth that he needed to speak with him immediately." For a moment his stiffness evaporated. "Miss Beckworth, I believe he is not a good companion for the master. His attitude to me was not that of a true gentleman. Is there a problem?"

"Make certain Charles sees me before he sees Hartley." She looked up at the tall man, his light brown hair just beginning to gray. "With my luck and your skill we should brush through this nicely," she assured him. He blushed and hurried away.

A short time later Charles walked through her door, his face concerned. "Jeffries sent me word that you needed to see me immediately. What has happened? Is it Louisa?"

"If only it were that simple."

"Elizabeth!
Make sense, please." His close inspection of her revealed that she was more agitated than he had seen her lately with anyone but himself. "What have you found out about me now?" he asked defensively, running through his latest actions like a small boy who reviews his misdeeds while waiting for his father's judgment.

"You?
What are you talking about?" she asked as she walked over to where he stood close to the door. Her curls, still disheveled from her bonnet, bounced as she walked. Her hazel eyes snapped.

"Are you telling me that I left a sick horse for nothing?"

"No." Elizabeth whirled to face the window, the soft yellow muslin that she wore spread out like a bell. Admitting to Charles what had happened would be bad enough, she decided. She did not have to face him to do it. She hesitantly pulled back the drapes. There in front of her was the very place where it had happened. She stiffened her back and turned to face her brother once more. "Charles, I told Sebastian Hartley to leave." She was rather surprised to hear how steady her voice sounded.

"What?" Charles's words were almost a shout. "How could you be so rude? Have you lost your senses?" His long legs made the distance between them disappear. He grabbed her shoulders, pulling her around to face him. "How could you do something like that?"

"Actually it was quite simple."

"Elizabeth!"

"Charles, the man said I was a snob just because I did not agree with him. Had I been a guest in this house I would have thought twice before insulting my hostess. And he said I had bad manners. I would not feel comfortable in this house with him." She paused, letting her words sink in.

"But if you prefer that he remain, Louisa and I will leave." She tossed her head, and her eyes flashed.

"No, there is no need for you to leave. I will see him, smooth everything over." Charles frowned. "Have you told Louisa what happened?"

"No. She has one of her headaches. But she will agree with me." She thought for a moment and then added, "Had he been a true gentleman, he would have offered to leave immediately." She glared at her brother, remembering how quick Dunstan had been to tell her of his departure.
And if Charles had chosen his friends more carefully . . .

"I suppose you expect me to oversee this departure?" Charles stopped and looked at her, disapproval written heavily on his face.

"Yes. But be careful. He is not going to like hearing you agree with me," Elizabeth said with a sigh. She rubbed her head again, wishing she could curl up on the chaise with her eyes closed and sleep the rest of the day away as Louisa was doing. Then she smiled suddenly and sat up straighter. "I do not plan to leave this room until you can tell me he is gone. Tell Jeffries I will have luncheon in my room."

Regarding his sister with some anxiety, Charles crossed to the door. "You could change your mind and see him with me," he suggested.

"Not unless you want to see me have a temper tantrum to put my old ones to shame," she
said,
her voice a deep, throaty promise of destruction.

Charles, recognizing the danger, opened the door slightly. "You are certain?" She nodded her head imperially. He straightened his shoulders and left. As soon as the door closed, Elizabeth slumped back down on the chaise, her face hidden in her hands.

When he had changed from his riding clothes, Charles walked slowly down the stairs, his face somber. With every downward step he took,
ne
could see Hartley waving the note he had signed in front of his face.

"He is in the library, sir," Jeffries told him when he asked where his guest was.

Reluctantly Charles headed down the hall. He stopped in front of the door, drew himself up until he was standing as straight and tall as he possibly could, and walked boldly into the room. "Jeffries told me you wanted to see me," he said quietly, looking
more stern
than he usually did.

Hartley lounged in one of the big leather chairs, his face determined. When he saw Charles, it changed. "Your sister has thrown me out, Charles. Talk to her, tell her who is master in this house." His pale blue eyes glittered angrily.

Embarrassed, Charles fell back a step or two. He cleared his throat. "I am master here, but my sister is the mistress of the house. She has the right to be comfortable in her own home." He crossed to a chair opposite the one in which Hartley sat. "If it were only my views to consider, you could stay here for the rest of your life. But the ladies—"

"Always knew you would crumple under pressure," Hartley said with a wry laugh. Charles flinched. "Well, I would not want to upset your household. I'll be on my way as soon as my valet packs." He walked to the door. "Have the coach ready in an hour." He looked at Charles and noted his look of surprise. "You did remember that I came with you, Beckworth? If you want me to leave, you will have to provide me transportation. Or you could leave with me." He smiled at that thought knowing how much it would disturb Elizabeth to see her brother depart with him.

"I cannot. But I will accompany you for a time. And I will see you as soon as I return to London."

Hartley
laughed,
the kind of laughter that mocks. "Ride at your own risk. You do not want to incur your sister's anger." He laughed again and slammed the door.

While Charles accompanied Hartley on the beginning of his journey, another rider galloped up smaller roads leading from the coast to the manor. From the look of his horse, the farmers he passed could tell that the man and his beast had been on the road for some time. He paused at the gates of the manor, wishing he had had time to pack at least a clean shirt. Then he spurred his horse on.

A few minutes later Jeffries opened the door. "My lord," he said in amazement, looking at the viscount, who was covered in dust. "Mr.
Beckworth
is not at home," he began correctly enough, but his shock caused him to ask, "Was he
expecting
 
you
?

"I did not come to see Charles, Jeffries." Dunstan caught sight of himself in a mirror. "It is Miss
Beckworth
I seek. But first, is there somewhere I can wash away a little of this dirt?"

"Certainly.
I will have a footman bring some water and towels to the bedroom you had when you stayed with us. Would you like some tea also?" Jeffries, determined to show the nobleman the proper respect, was still not certain. "Will your luggage be arriving shortly?"

"I am only here for an hour or so. I must be in London by tomorrow morning," Dunstan explained, stretching. After hours in the saddle, he needed a rest, but there was no time for one.

At that, Jeffries' impassive face showed a flicker of concern. Then he said firmly, "After you have had time to freshen up, I will tell Miss
Beckworth
you wish to see her."

"Tell her simply that she has a visitor. Do not tell her it is I." Dunstan winked. Jeffries, scenting a romance, hurried on his errands.

Less than a half hour later, Dunstan was once more in the morning room, pacing up and down. During the long ride he had told himself that he would not try to see Elizabeth again. But here he was, his heart racing furiously.

The door opened, and Elizabeth walked in, expecting to see one of her neighbors. She caught sight of Dunstan and
stopped,
her stillness a measure of her surprise. "Lord Dunstan, my brother is not here."

"Jeffries told me." His voice was dry and raspy. "I am here to see you." He took a step toward her, his blue eyes holding her hazel ones in check.

"Why?" she asked huskily, her voice no more than a whisper. He looked so tall, so strong in his rumpled clothes.

"To see if you had changed your mind." She was more desirable than he had remembered. He could smell the sweet scent of her perfume from where he was standing.

She turned and walked over to her small desk, picking up his letter that she had put there that morning. "I was going to answer you," she said, her hands turning the letter.

"Now I have saved you the trouble." Dunstan took a step closer, and she retreated. He stepped back and took a deep breath. "Will you be my wife?"

"Dunstan, we have been over all of this before. No. I cannot. My reasons remain the same." She looked at him longingly, wishing she could trust him enough to change her answer.

Once again he stepped back, almost as though he did not want to frighten her. "Change your mind," he pleaded.

"No."

He looked at her again, coveting her soft, red mouth. Taking a deep breath, he smiled. "Don't forget me," he said quietly and left the room.

Forget him? Elizabeth thought. Dunstan in clothes was as devastating as Dunstan wrapped in a sheet or pillow. She sighed deeply and went back upstairs.

Finding Hartley's company less than hospitable, Charles traveled only a short way with him. Then he returned to the village inn, seeking the company of men.