Never Miss a Chance (18 page)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Lizzie awoke the next morning later than usual because she’d
hardly slept.  Thoughts of Marcus had filled her head as she lay awake, then
invaded her dreams for the fitful few hours she slumbered. 

She went downstairs just in time to meet two unexpected
arrivals to the house party, Francis and Lucinda Marley, a brother and sister
from Leeds.  There were cousins to the Earl of Shively, a neighbor of Riverton
Farms.  When the Marleys arrived and found him from home, they’d been quite
beside themselves, unsure what they should do.  However, Lady Riverton had very
graciously taken them in.

As Lizzie watched Charlotte fawn over the Marleys, she
wondered at the difference in their treatment compared to Miss Rennard’s.  When
Stalford appeared at Lizzie’s elbow, it appeared he could read her mind.

“Royal connections,” he said.  “Apparently, he’s somewhat of
an archaeologist, always digging about for Roman artifacts or some such dusty
thing.  She documents them in her sketchbook.  She’s already threatened to make
me look at them.”

“And they didn’t know the earl would be gone before they
came to visit?”

“So they say.  Lady Elizabeth, please do me the honor of
sitting with me at the picnic.  It should brighten an otherwise dreary day.”

“There’s not a cloud in the sky, my lord.”

“Because you have finally arisen,” he said as he took her
hand and kissed it.

She was saved from having to counter that bit of fluff by
Mr. Marley, who’d come to make himself known to her.

“Pray forgive my impertinence for introducing myself, Lady
Elizabeth,” said Marley, as he bowed over her hand.  “But I would not insult my
esteemed hostess by ignoring any of her guests, especially one who is so highly
exalted.  I am Francis Marley, your humble servant.”

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir” said a
bemused Lizzie to the fawning man.  While a bit stoop-shouldered, he was rather
good looking.  Or he would be, if he were to wear clothes that weren’t quite so
clergy-like in nature.  And comb his hair in a more attractive manner.  And
perhaps wash it a bit more diligently.    

“And here is my dear sister,” he said.  “Lady Elizabeth
Kellington, may I present Miss Lucinda Marley.”

Miss Marley was dressed in a plain blue gown that a
governess might wear.  A good half dozen years her brother’s junior, she
appeared to be in her mid-twenties.  While she too expressed herself quite
fortunate in making Lizzie’s acquaintance, there was something about her eyes
that didn’t quite match her speech.

Or, thought Lizzie, perhaps she was imagining things after
her sleepless night spent thinking of Marcus.

*                    *                    *

It was, indeed, a glorious day for a picnic.  Lizzie sat at
a table overlooking the fertile valley that ensured Riverton Farms’
prosperity.  She once again found herself next to the Earl of Stalford, with Edith
on his other side.  Lizzie was surprised when Arthur seated himself next to
Edith.  She thought he would’ve sought out Miss Rennard, who was at another
table between the Marleys.  Lizzie was amused to see that while Arthur was
sitting at her table, his eyes were fixed on Miss Rennard.

“Why don’t you go rescue her, Arthur?” asked Stalford.

“Rescue whom?”

“Miss Rennard, of course.  The poor chit’s no doubt learning
more about Roman antiquities than anyone should have to know, including the ancient
Italians.”

“She’ll be fine,” said Arthur, who nevertheless couldn’t
stop staring at her.

“I must say,” said Stalford again, “that I’m surprised
you’re in your sister’s pocket.   You’ve scarcely left her side all day.  What’s
the matter?  Does Lynwood keep you all on that short of a leash?”

Arthur turned his attention to Stalford.  “Have a care with
my brother’s name, Stalford.  Family means everything to me.”

There was a moment of tension, broken only by Edith
summoning a footman to complain about a stain on the tablecloth.  Lizzie didn’t
hear all of the conversation, just a “lazy, incompetent, slattern” here and a
“merciless punishment” there.  After tersely dismissing the servant, Edith
turned to find Lizzie staring at her.  “You’re not going to carry tales to
Riverton, are you?  I didn’t dismiss the man permanently, though he most
certainly deserved it.  Do tell me I’m not going to have to give him five quid.”

They were interrupted by Mr. Marley who, in his words,
“humbly begged” to join them.  Edith must have remembered his royal connections,
because she regally waved him to take a seat.

“Thank you, Lady Edith,” he said as he sat.  “I must once
again commend you for your kindness toward my sister and me.  Not that it comes
as a surprise.  I have heard of your generous hospitality before, of course.”

“You have?” Even Edith appeared surprised by the
compliment. 

“Oh, yes.  Many a visitor to Carlton House has remarked upon
it.  They spoke of the manor and the exquisite land surrounding it.  I even
heard there’s an ornamental lake.  Can it really be true?”

Edith warmed to the idea of bragging about her ancestral
home.  “The lake has been there for a century or more.  We’ve had any number of
landscape architects seek permission to walk the lands.  We tell them no, of
course.  Tradesmen are so very common.”

“I agree my good lady.  I agree,” said Marley.  “But can you
tell me anything about the lake itself?”

Edith’s plain face blanked.  “It is, I would imagine, wet.”

Marley nodded at the great revelation.  “Have you ever found
any interesting objects there?”

“Why would I want anything that had been in the lake?   That
is most odd.  Next thing you’ll be asking about the river.  The rapids are
terribly dangerous, so I never go down there, although Charlotte has sent a
servant to the area from time to time.  The lazy ones, you understand,” said
Edith, shooting a glance at a nearby footman.

“Of course, my lady,” said Marley, bowing while seated,
which brought his poorly-tied cravat into contact with the strawberry preserves. 
“My scientific pursuits often take me to lakes and ponds and I was just
wondering if anything had washed up.”

“What is the nature of your scientific inquiry?’ asked
Lizzie.        

“I’m compiling a history of agricultural techniques from the
time of the Romans onward.  I visit tracts of land and look for clues to how
those people lived, what they ate, the tools they used.  My sister has been
quite helpful in recording my work through her drawings.  Why, just the other
day, we made a most fascinating discovery while digging through the dung of…”

“Excuse me, old boy,” said Stalford before Marley could go
any further into his dung discoveries, “but I’m afraid this conversation might
not be the sort ladies should take part in.  Their delicate sensibilities, you
understand.”  He turned to Lizzie and gave her just the slightest impudent
wink, then turned to Edith and saw her beady little eyes trained upon him. 

“Of course, of course,” said Marley.  “But if you wouldn’t
mind, Lady Edith, I should like to explore the area around the lake. With your
permission, of course.”

“Certainly,” said Edith, who looked like she wished to give
him permission to begin straight away.

Stalford rose from the table, then asked Lizzie if she would
like to accompany him on a walk.  Looking for any excuse to end the
conversation with Marley, she said yes.

*                    *                    *

The woman was most maddening
, thought Arthur as he
took off in search of Miss Rennard.  He ought to be at his sister’s side, but
he felt the need to find Miss Rennard.  She’d disappeared into the woods just
as Marley had joined their table. 

She also was a fast walker.  Just as Arthur was about to
turn back because he doubted she could’ve gone that far, he saw her a hundred
feet ahead. 

“You walk as if being chased,” he said, as he closed the
distance with her.

“Why are you following me, my lord?” she asked as she
stopped and turned around.

“To catch you, of course,” replied Arthur with the smile
that had sent many hearts aflutter, but wasn’t working at all on this chit.

“I am most displeased with you, my lord.”

“Why is that?  And call me Arthur.”

“I returned to retrieve my…clothing from the bush near the
lake, but it was gone,” she said with the hint of a blush.

“Imagine that.”

“I want it back.”

“Well, if I should see a deer in petticoats, I shall pass
along your message.”

“There is no deer in petticoats, as you very well know.  You
must return my clothing immediately,” said Miss Rennard, whose eyes were especially
beautiful when angry.  Arthur longed to see how they’d look when filled with
passion.

“My dear Tara…”

“I did not make you free with my Christian name.”

“We’re discussing your undergarments.  I assumed that put us
on a first name basis.”

“We are not discussing my undergarments.”  At Arthur’s
raised brow, she continued.  “Well, we are, but only because you most
improperly stole them.”

“Only after you most improperly removed them.”

“I want them back!”

“On one condition.”

She looked at him warily.  “What is it?”

“You tell me what you were looking for in the lake.”

“That is none of your concern.”

“My ruined boots prove it is at least partially my concern,
but I’ll name a different condition.  I’ll return your undergarments in
exchange for a kiss.”

“Absolutely not.”

“How badly do you want your undergarments returned?”

It appeared Miss Rennard wanted nothing more than to strike
him about the head and shoulders with her dainty fists.  She was filled with
passion.  A fiery redhead.  And Arthur’s blood heated just as he watched her
weigh her options from behind narrowed eyes.

“You must return them to me,” she said at last.  “And stop
referring to them as ‘undergarments.’  Call them clothing.”

“Your underclothing?”

Sapphire eyes flashed, yet it looked like she was also
trying to suppress a grin.  He wondered about the combination of passion and
laughter.  In his bed.  It was a tantalizing thought.

“I’ll do it,” she said.

Utterly distracted, Arthur wasn’t sure exactly what she was
agreeing to for a moment.  But he could hope.

“I’ll kiss you, but you must return my clothing as
unobtrusively as possible.  This afternoon.”  She then closed her eyes, turned
up her chin and pursed her lips, waiting, presumably, for him to do his worst.

Arthur bowed his head toward hers.  Just as his lips were a
breath away he said, “I think I shall wait.  Not to return your underclothing –
I shall do that this afternoon.  But for the kiss.”

She opened her eyes, clearly surprised.  “What makes you
think you’ll get another chance?”

“Oh, I will,” said Arthur, as he walked away.  “You can
count on it.”

*                    *                    *

“You really should allow me to help escort you over the
uneven ground,” said the Earl of Stalford, as he tried to take Lizzie’s arm.

“That is very kind of you, of course,” said Lizzie, as she
evaded his assistance once again.  “But Lynwood Manor is filled with untold
acres of uneven ground.  I have very good balance, which served me well as I
ran across the property while trying to keep up with my brothers.  I was a bit
of a hoyden growing up.  Some say I still am.”

“Not just some,” muttered Stalford as he tried to make his
way over the umpteenth tree root.  He wondered why the chit had such a
fascination for nature.  It would be much easier to compromise a frail young
lady if you didn’t have to exert yourself quite so much to keep up with her.

“Are you all right, my lord?” asked Lizzie.  “You look a
little off.”

“I assure you I am perfectly fine,” he said, with a smile. 
“I’m just surprised you’re doing so well.  You seem as though you don’t have a
care in the world.”

“I assure you I’m concerned about a great many injustices in
the world, but am very fortunate to have so many blessings in my own life.”

“So the situation with Riverton in Lords doesn’t concern
you?”

“What situation?”

“Oh, dear,” said Stalford, shaking his head.  “How like him
not to have told you.  Forget I said anything.” 

Lizzie stopped and took his arm.  “Please tell me, my lord. 
Are they teasing him about his association with me?”

“Teasing?  No.  But they’ve as good as told him he’ll never
have a ministry office if he takes you to wife.”

The blood drained from Lizzie’s face.

“That…that can’t be possible.  He would’ve told me.”  But
even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t true.  It was the type of news Marcus would
never tell her.  A secret he would keep to himself, no matter what it cost him.

“Lizzie,” said Stalford, raising one of her hands to his
lips even as he tried to catch his breath from the damnable hike, “it breaks my
heart to see you so upset.  Please think nothing more about it.  Riverton is a
resourceful man, as is your brother.  I’m sure something can be done for
Riverton’s political ambitions.  Eventually.  Perhaps he may even sit on a committee
or two, somewhere down the line.  Now, shall we set off for the house once
again?”

In shock, Lizzie let the earl put her hand on his arm, as he
led her back to the house.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

As luck would have it, the man who’d been on Lizzie’s mind
continually finally arrived at Riverton Farms.  But it was not as she imagined.

When Lizzie saw Riverton’s carriage arrive, she ran
downstairs to greet him.  Stalford’s revelations about Lords had been most
troubling, but she was sure she could find some way to make Marcus confide in
her, and together they would come up with a way for him to achieve his dreams.

She was starved for the very sight of him and couldn’t wait
to see his beloved, solemn face, to hear him say her name in his quiet reserved
way.  So she was quite surprised that her first sign of Riverton was his
laughter from inside the coach.  It was a most unfamiliar sound.  She’d heard
him laugh on his long-ago trips to Lynwood Manor.  At least she thought she
had.  But he hadn’t been in too jolly of a mood during the past few years when
she’d seen him with her brothers.  What the devil was he laughing at in the coach?

The door opened, and a smiling Riverton disembarked.  With
everyone milling about the drive he didn’t see her, and it was all she could do
not to run to him.  Then he turned back to the coach and a slender, gloved hand
reached out, along with a nicely-turned decidedly female ankle.  They were
attached to one of the most beautiful women Lizzie had ever had the displeasure
to see.  A blonde goddess with ringlets and a dimpled smile with cupid’s bow
lips.  Marcus had brought a woman with him.   Two women, as an older version of
the first got out.  She looked to be the first lady’s mother and was still a
beautiful woman.  Where on earth did Marcus get them?  And why was he laughing
with them instead of broodily discussing the corn laws?

Lady Riverton answered one of those questions as she
positively floated to the carriage to embrace the older woman.  “Eugenia!” she
said, as the two women kissed the air two inches from each others’ cheeks. 
“What a lovely surprise!  And you brought your divine Melissa!  How I’ve longed
to see you again, my dear.  But however did you end up in Riverton’s carriage?”

“Heaven must have sent him,” said Eugenia.  “Our carriage
broke down and Melissa and I were stranded.  We were so worried that we would
be at the mercy of the elements…”

Lizzie looked at the cloudless sky.

Eugenia continued.  “…When who should happen by, but
Riverton!  He was so kind to offer us your hospitality until our coach can be
repaired and we can be on our way again.”

“But I shall not even hear of your leaving us, Eugenia,”
said Lady Riverton.  “You and Melissa will join our party.  I absolutely insist
upon it.”

So caught up in the drama Lizzie didn’t notice Riverton
slipping away from the goddess and coming to her side until she heard his dear,
familiar voice in her ear.  “I have missed you so.”  But gone was the carefree,
laughing Marcus.  The man who spoke those words was the solemn one she knew so
well.

At least she thought she knew him well. 

She managed a weak smile, as her pulse beat erratically. 
“I’m so glad you have come,” she said.

He looked like he wanted to say more, but his mother was
calling him away to help dear Eugenia and Melissa.  The courtyard was overrun
with servants, and both Edith and Charlotte came out to hug the two ladies.

Lizzie slipped back into the house, unnoticed by all but
one.

*                    *                    *

After playing least in sight all afternoon, Lizzie sat at
her vanity deep in thought as Betsy finished her hair before dinner.

While Marcus had primarily been motivated by honor when he
proposed to her, Lizzie believed he truly did care for her now.  He wasn’t in
love with her, but she’d hoped his feelings might develop further through the
years.

However, more was now at stake than whether their marriage
would become a love match for him, as she was increasingly convinced it already
was for her.  He shouldn’t have to sacrifice his career.  The man deserved some
happiness in his life.

She was also troubled by the arrival of the beautiful blonde. 
Stalford, who was a regular fount of information when it came to Riverton, told
Lizzie she was Miss Melissa Simons, daughter of Viscount Nicholls.  Viscount
Nicholls had been a friend of the late Marquess of Riverton, and it had been
hoped that a match might be made since Miss Simons was only five years younger
than Marcus.  Lady Riverton and Lady Nicholls were bosom bows and Lizzie assumed
they’d not only welcome the match, but they’d do whatever it took to make it
happen.

Lizzie told herself that if Marcus had wanted to marry Miss
Simons, he would have already done so.  Even if he hadn’t stepped in and
selflessly offered for Lizzie, there had been any number of years when he
might’ve got himself leg-shackled to that pile of blonde ringlets.

Lizzie chided herself for being unkind.  Miss Simons was
probably quite nice, although Lizzie did have some doubts as to whether the
woman could challenge Marcus on an intellectual level, as she did. 

But, after all, no one was perfect.

*                    *                    *

“Did you really attend university lectures dressed as a
lad?” an enchanted Arthur asked a blushing Miss Simons at dinner that night.

“Not as many as I would’ve liked,” she said.  “But I
attended most of the annual seminars – and all of the ones in Greek.”

“You know Greek?” asked Mr. Marley.  While still dressed
clergy-like, the man hadn’t mentioned dung discoveries all evening.

“And Latin,” replied Miss Simons, “although I’m sure my
accent is atrocious.”

All the men laughed appreciatively.

“I was always worried about dear Melissa on the outings,”
said Lady Nicholls.  “Can you imagine the scandal that would’ve occurred had
she been caught?  And there was always the possibility, seeing as how her
figure is nothing like a man’s – if you’ll excuse my plain speaking.  I’m
surprised you didn’t try such a thing, Lady Elizabeth.  I should think no one
would’ve seen through your masquerade.  I mean that in the kindest possible
way, of course.”

“Of course,” said Lizzie.

“I don’t believe Lady Elizabeth would’ve passed as a lad for
even a moment,” said Miss Rennard.  “Two things would have given her away:  her
figure and her intelligence.  She’s much too smart to be a man.”

“Well said, Miss Rennard,” said Miss Simons.  “And I must
say I would never have had the nerve to attempt it myself, had it not been for
Riverton’s encouragement.”

“Oh?” said Lizzie, looking at her fiancé.  “I must say I’m surprised
he would support such a non-traditional enterprise.”

“Then you don’t know him as I do,” said Miss Simons, with a
smile that highlighted her perfect teeth.  “Marcus has always been up for a
lark.”

“Yes, well,” said the marquess in question as he cleared his
throat.  “It was a risk to be sure, but all in the pursuit of knowledge. 
Mansfield, is there more wine?”

The butler bowed, then poured.

“Speaking of pursuits,” said Lucinda Marley, “I am most
curious about Miss Rennard’s fascination with the lake.  It seems you spend a
great deal of time down there.  May I ask why?”

“Riverton Farms is as fine a specimen of wilderness as I
have ever seen,” replied Miss Rennard.  “I enjoy exploring the property.  It is
particularly lovely.”

“Yes, I’m sure it is,” said Miss Marley.  “But why the lake
in particular?”

“Is it because of your family connections that you feel so
drawn to Riverton Farms?” asked Mr. Marley.  “And what is the nature of your
connection, exactly?”

“Yes,” said Charlotte.  “I’ve rather wondered about that
myself.”

But before Miss Rennard could reply, Arthur interrupted.  “While
I’m sure the Riverton family tree is endlessly fascinating, I must confess to
an abhorrence of ancestral history.  Most likely it’s the result of tutors who
pounded the Lynwood line into our heads mercilessly.  Did they not, Lizzie?”

“Lud, as a child I prayed Lynwood would never have sons
because I could not stand learning the name of even one more heir.”

“But Lynwood will marry, will he not?” asked an alarmed
Charlotte.  “It is his obligation and moral duty.  He positively owes it to
England.  If not the world.”

“He really should think about marriage,” said Lady
Riverton.  “And it is my hope above all others that Riverton shall marry soon,
as well.”

“On that subject, Mama…” began Riverton.

“Ladies,” said his mother quickly.  “It is time to leave the
men to their brandy and cigars.  Please join me in the drawing room, where I
hope to persuade our dear sweet Melissa to play and sing for us.  She really is
quite exceptionally talented.”

“You are too kind, my lady,” said Melissa, as she blushed
becomingly.  “I’m so out of practice, I’m sure I cannot do justice to your
instrument.”

“Nonsense,” said her mama.  “You shall acquit yourself
beautifully, as you do in all things.”

The ladies rose as one to move on to the drawing room.  Lizzie
lagged a little behind the others only to have Miss Rennard put her arm through
hers.

“Would it be too much to hope that she’s actually tone
deaf?” asked Miss Rennard.

“I think,” said Lizzie turning to the lady, “that you and I
shall be lifelong friends.”

When the gentlemen finished their port, they rejoined the
ladies.  Miss Simons sang three arias in Italian, and provided the English
translation.  Lady Nicholls then suggested that Riverton join Melissa for a
series of duets the two had perfected at long-ago family functions.

They sang beautifully together and looked like two
fair-haired angels.  They were, of course, impeccable in their musicality.  And
it was obvious to everyone they had a bond of real friendship.

“I had no idea,” said Stalford as he leaned in to whisper in
Lizzie’s ear at the back of the room, “that Riverton was so musical.  It’s like
he’s a changed man.  One who’s almost human.”

“Take care sir,” said Lizzie in quelling tones.  “You are
talking about my fiancé.”

“Yes,” said Stalford.  “But for how long?  If you’ll excuse
me, my dear, I must speak to Edith about something.  If you need anything, please
send for me.  Any time of day or night.”

As Stalford took his leave, Lizzie realized she’d had her
fill of the evening’s entertainment.  But she’d no sooner left the room, than
Riverton was by her side.

“At last,” he said, as he reached for her hand.  “We can
finally be alone.”

All he needed to do was touch her hand, lightly stroking his
thumb over her palm and Lizzie was ready to melt.  “Can we go somewhere to
talk?” she asked.

“To talk?” he asked.  “Or to do something else?”

Lizzie was enraptured by the feel of his hand, by the look
in his eyes.  By the very masculine smell of sandalwood and leather.  “To do
something else,” she whispered.

His eyes flared.  “I’d like to take you upstairs, my dear,
sweet Lizzie.  But I’m afraid that would be most unwise.  Will you go outside
with me instead?”

Lizzie nodded.  She would’ve preferred the “most unwise”
option, but it didn’t really matter where they went, so long as she could be
alone with him. 

He led her into the library, then through the French doors
to the side garden.  It was a warm evening and the air was redolent with the
smell of flowers and freshly cut grass.   They walked hand in hand without
saying a word, keeping to the side of the lawn closest to the trees.  That both
of them wanted to escape undetected was clear.  Words were unnecessary to
convey the urgency they both felt.

They were headed toward the lake.  There were a million questions
Lizzie wanted to ask, but she preferred not to break the spell.  She didn’t
want to hear answers that could tear her world apart.  She might never have
anything more than that night, but she wanted to make the most of it.  She
needed to make the most of it.

*                    *                    *

Marcus was a wreck.  The pledge he’d made to Lynwood to
protect Lizzie, to treat her with respect reverberated in his head.  But it was
completely drowned out by the primal knowledge that he finally had her alone on
his property.  On what would soon be their land.  He’d like to be with her
right now in their bed, but he couldn’t risk her being discovered.  He longed
to make her his.  But he knew it was too soon for her.  He hoped they could
further their intimacy, but judging by the conflagration the last time they
were alone together, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop in time.

They reached the lake.  They stood looking out, with the
moon reflected on the still surface.  He pulled her into his arms, with her
back to his front.

“This has always been a special place for me,” he said.  “It
has an almost mystical pull for me.  I didn’t….”  He paused for a moment,
considering how much he should tell her.  “I didn’t have any friends while I
was growing up.  My parents believed no one in the village was worthy of us,
and it went without saying that I would never be allowed to play with the servants’
children.  They once caught me swimming with the son of one of our grooms. 
They turned the man out the next day.”

“That’s horrible,” said Lizzie, aching for the child he once
was.

“Yes, it was.  But the first thing I did when I went to
university was to find the man and his son.  Both now work at my estate in
Cornwall.  I think if I hadn’t seen the unfairness of the situation as a lad, I
wouldn’t be the man I am today.”

Lizzie felt his arms close tighter around her.  Her eyes
filled with tears.  He was such a good man.  Too good of a man to be dragged
down by her.  She had to end this association once and for all.

But first, she had one night to spend with him.

She felt his lips on her neck, below her ear, making his way
down to her shoulder.   One of his hands moved to her breast, cupping it,
rolling the already hard nipple between his fingers.  His other hand travelled
downward, between her legs.  Making her grow wetter with every stroke.