Never Miss a Chance (4 page)

CHAPTER FOUR

“I don’t care if dueling is illegal!” said Arthur, throwing
up his hands as he paced in Lynwood’s study. “I’m going to call that bastard
out if I have to get on a ship to America as soon as I kill him.”

“Not if I get to him first,” said Hal from the settee, where
he sat grim-faced sipping a brandy.  “If I have to fight you for the honor of
running him through, I’m prepared to do it.”

“Neither of you will be fighting anyone,” said Lynwood
firmly, from his desk.  “Hal, pour us all another brandy.”

“Why do I always have to do the menial tasks?  Arthur’s
going off to avenge our sister’s honor and all I get to do is pour,” said Hal,
right before he finished off the last of his drink.

“Never underestimate the importance of fine brandy,” said
Lynwood.  “Neither of you will call the man out because we can’t afford to
focus any more attention on this situation than already exists.”

“I don’t think it’s possible to make it a bigger scandal
than it already is,” said Arthur.  “Half the people there were already buzzing
about it before you got Riverton’s message.  This isn’t going away any time
soon.”

Lynwood turned to Riverton, who was standing by the window,
lost in thought.  “Thank you, Marcus, for helping our sister.  We are all in
your debt.”

The three brothers raised a glass to the marquess.

“You owe me nothing.  I only wish I’d kept closer a watch on
her.”

“It was good of you to keep watch on her at all,” said
Arthur.  “You’ve gone above and beyond the duty of a family friend.  But I am
concerned.  Are you sure she wasn’t hurt?”   

“She was shaken, but, thankfully, had no injuries,” Riverton
replied.  “She told me Sir John had meant her no harm.  If he had, it would be
I on the first ship to America tomorrow after meeting him on a field at dawn.”

Lynwood looked at his friend over his glass of brandy.  “Indeed? 
And is it still your opinion that we should be sequestered from Lizzie?  Or
have we calmed down enough to see her?”

“I meant no disrespect,” said Riverton, recognizing the
subtle challenge.  “But I wanted to give her the chance to regroup before she
faced all of you.”

“Then we owe you another debt,” said Lynwood as he leaned
back in his chair.  “For having our sister’s best interests at heart in all
circumstances.”

Riverton casually turned back to the window.  “Where is your
Aunt Prudence?”

“On the battlefield,” said Arthur.  “She and Mariah stayed
behind to do what they could to stem the rumors.  But they’d need a miracle to
clean this up.   First that blasted treatise and now this.  How will Lizzie
ever be able to recover?”

“I always thought Lizzie could get out of any scrape,” said
Hal.  “She always could when we were growing up.  But now…  She’s not going to
have to marry that Sir John fellow, is she?”

“No!” said Riverton quickly enough that Lynwood’s gaze
returned to him.

“Of course not!” said a voice from the doorway.

Lady Elizabeth had come to do battle.

The four men looked at her for a stunned moment, then Lynwood
rose and walked toward her silently.  Lizzie braced herself, not knowing what
was about to happen.  Then without words, the duke pulled her into his arms.

And that was all it took for the strong, independent and
brave young lady named for England’s most powerful queen to break down into
silent tears.

*                    *                    *

Riverton knew he should leave, that he was intruding on a
family’s crisis.  But he couldn’t depart.  Not yet.

He’d been aware of Lizzie’s presence all evening long, from
the moment she’d arrived in the ballroom, through her flirting with that damned
Stalford, to putting up with Gwendolyn Bossert’s impertinence.   He’d been
aware of the leers sent her way, the tittering behind fans.  He’d wanted to
rail at the whole lot of them, a room full of fools who weren’t fit to breathe
the same air as Lizzie.  Yet, he knew he’d been the biggest fool.  In love with
a woman he could never have. 

So when Lady Willoughby had approached him, brushing her
breast provocatively against his arm, he’d been glad for the distraction, even
though it hadn’t diverted his attention from Lizzie for a single moment.  He’d
been surprised to see her speaking to Sir John, and he should’ve prevented them
from going out to the terrace.  But he hadn’t dreamed the insolent pup would dare
try to kiss her.  

He could’ve prevented the whole catastrophe, if only he
hadn’t been trying so hard to disguise his feelings.

He’d wanted to rip Sir John apart with his bare hands when
he’d seen Lizzie’s torn gown and the distress she was trying so hard not to
show to others.  He was caught up in anger not just at Sir John, but at himself
for not protecting her.  It was the sole reason he was even at the damned
ball.  How had he failed so spectacularly?

But his worst failing was that in the midst of trying to
protect her, of taking her away to safety, he’d been lost in a sea of lust.  If
he hadn’t kept himself across the carriage from her, he would’ve had her in his
arms.  And, God, when the jacked slipped and he’d seen that beautiful, full
breast with just a hint of rose-colored nipple, it was all he could do not to
bring his mouth down on hers and whisk her away to spend the night in his bed.

In some ways, he was no better than Sir John Matthews.

And that was a painful truth to swallow.

*                    *                    *

When Lynwood finally pulled back from his embrace, Arthur
and Hal both held her close.  Riverton wanted to touch her, just to assure
himself that she was all right.  But he knew the folly of that.  If even a hint
of his feelings showed on his face, Arthur and Hal would be fighting over who would
run him through first.  The best he could do was look at her from across the
room.  It wasn’t enough.  It would never be enough.  But it was all honor would
allow him to have.  Their eyes met for just the briefest of moments, then
Riverton looked away.

“Liam, you must know that I didn’t mean for any of this to
happen,” said Lizzie quietly.  “The treatise was one thing, but I would
never….”

“We know,” said Lynwood comfortingly as he led her to the
settee.  “We know you’d never do anything like that.  Riverton filled us in on
the details.  Now all we have to do is determine what happens next.”

“I won’t marry Sir John,” said Lizzie, regaining her
composure.  “I’d rather die a spinster in the dower house at Lynwood.”

“I don’t think anything that drastic is in order,” said
Lynwood with a brief smile.

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Arthur, as he patted her shoulder
on his way to get another drink.  “It might be an excellent place to spend a
few months, reflecting on the scare she gave us and in light of that dreadful
treatise.”  He gave a dramatic shiver.  “Giving women the right to vote,
indeed.  You might as well make it a requirement for cats to wear evening clothes.”

“Perhaps you’d like to take a sabbatical from the gaming
tables and join me at the dower house,” said Lizzie, warmed by her brother’s
teasing.  “Then you could reflect on the evils of gaming and spirits and
illicit affairs.”

“Illicit affairs?” said Hal.  “You shouldn’t even know of
such things.”

“Oh, please,” said Lizzie.  “It’s impossible to be your
sister and not hear of the many women you’ve had liaisons with.  I even heard
you had your eye on Lady Willoughby.”

At the mention of Lady Willoughby’s name, Riverton glanced
up to find Lizzie looking at him while Hal sputtered something about females
being seen and not heard and wondering why Lynwood had never locked their only
sister in a dungeon. 

“While I appreciate the suggestion, Hal,” said Lynwood, as
he sat in a chair by the fireplace and stretched out his long legs.  “I’m
afraid any dungeon would have to be large enough to hold all three of you,
since none of you have lived blameless lives.”

“And you have?” asked Arthur with an easy grin.

“Of course not,” said Lynwood.  “Although I do think I’ve
perhaps learned the art of discretion a bit better than any of you.”

“Just because you’re better at covering your tracks, doesn’t
mean you don’t have tracks to cover,” said Lizzie.

“As you say.  And I am quite familiar with lessons about
casting stones.  However, regardless of who is to blame for the current
situation, a solution must be found.  We must come up with the best way to
proceed.”

“What if I do go to the country for a while?” suggested
Lizzie, hoping “a while” would turn out to be a few weeks at the most.  It
would give her a chance to work on the next treatise.  Not that she’d breathe a
word of that to anyone in the room, of course.  “Not the dower house – it’s too
dreary by half.  But there’s much I can do at Lynwood Manor.”

“Do any of those activities include writing?” asked Lynwood.

“Well, of course,” said Lizzie with her best look of
innocence, perfected by two decades of mischief.  “I shall write to all of you
and Aunt Prue and Mariah.”

“I wasn’t referring to letters, as you are well aware.  If
you think you can continue your political activities you are much mistaken.”

This was exactly as she’d feared.  “You can’t deny me,
Lynwood!”

“My dear, not only can I, but I must,” said Lynwood the
disciplinarian once again.  “While it isn’t solely your fault, your reputation
has been damaged irreparably.  Were I to allow you to continue down this road
of activism, I’d be a party to your permanent ruin.”

“But some things are more important than reputation,” said
Lizzie, tears once again flooding her eyes.  Apparently this was her evening to
masquerade as a watering pot.  “I’m serious about these reforms.  It’s not some
whim of mine.  I can’t stop now and I won’t be a coward.”

“No one could ever accuse you of cowardice,” said Riverton
so quietly that all eyes turned to him.  “But any great campaign requires not
just passion and commitment, but strategy and efficiency, as well.  Because of
tonight’s events – regardless of your innocence – you’ve lost the respect of
some members of the ton.  Unless you can regain your standing, your words will
be wasted.  The only way you can be an effective voice for change will be to do
exactly as your brothers say.  Restore your reputation, even if you have to
grit your teeth as you do it.”

Lizzie wiped the tears from her eyes.  “It’s unfair.”

He nodded.  “Such is the way of the world.”

She considered his words.  “If the only way I can make a
difference is to restore my reputation, then it must be done.”

“Can’t we just restore your reputation and leave it at
that?” asked Hal.  “Why stir up the females of London any more than you already
have?  There are so many other, more enjoyable ways to while away the hours
with them.”

“Refill our drinks, Hal,” said Arthur, giving him his glass. 
“No one wants to hear how Lizzie’s activities are cutting into your social
life.”

“No, we most certainly do not,” said Lynwood.  “Ah, Aunt
Prue and Miss Mariah please do come in.”

The two ladies swept into the room, concern for Lizzie clear
in their faces.  As the gentlemen found seats for them, Aunt Prue recounted
their efforts at the Tarlington ball.

“Unfortunately, we were unable to make much progress,” said Aunt
Prue.  “Lady Halliwell – with her horrid daughter in tow – was telling everyone
what they’d witnessed on the terrace, embellishing along the way.  The daughter
was even worse.  I would never have thought Gwendolyn even had an imagination,
but apparently the chit has quite an ability to tell a story.   All of it lies,
of course.  Hal, pour Mariah and me a spot of brandy, if you please.”

“Why does no one ever ask Arthur to pour?” grumbled Hal on
his way to the sideboard.

“Did Gwendolyn and her mother mention Sir John?” asked
Lizzie.

“Is that who it was?  I wouldn’t think he had enough nerve to
even address you.  I would’ve forbidden the match even if that buffoon hadn’t
had the criminal effrontery to press his affections.  His fond mama is like
something out of Grimm’s fairy tales.  Mark my words.  If Sir John ever does
marry, it shall be to a girl who’s deaf in both ears.  Or handy with a gun and
not opposed to matricide.  But on to you, my dear Lizzie.  I’ve come up with
the perfect solution: You’ll get married.  Oh, hullo Riverton,” she said as she
gave the marquess a pointed look.  “I didn’t see you when we came in.”

Prue took a glass from Hal, then downed half of it in one
gulp, as everyone else looked on.

“I think you’re right,” said Lynwood.  “Marriage may be the
only way to salvage this.   You danced with the Earl of Stalford tonight, Elizabeth. 
He’s from an old family and respected in Lords.   He’s not known for gaming, is
he Arthur?”

 “I’ve been across the table from him a time or two, but
I’ve never heard of any excesses.”

“Hal, does he have a reputation with certain establishments
you frequent?” Lynwood asked, with an eye toward the ladies in the room.

“I’ve never heard of anything.  But I don’t go to ‘certain
establishments’ for gossip.”

“So, I take it the man doesn’t have a bad reputation,” said
Lynwood, looking for the world like he was about to draw up marriage contracts. 

“Now stop right there,” said Lizzie.  “I’ll not have my
husband chosen for me.”

“Of course you won’t,” said Aunt Prue.  “And certainly not
by your brothers tonight.  Let’s all get a good night’s sleep and convene again
on the morrow.  For myself, Lynwood, I’m not sure that Stalford is at all the
thing, but perhaps we shall think of another candidate.  Riverton, thank you so
much for your kind service to my niece.  You’re a good man.”

Then an exuberant Aunt Prue ushered everyone out of the
room, leaving Lynwood with Riverton, a slight smile on her lips and her head
filled with wedding plans.