Never Miss a Chance (6 page)

A clearly reluctant Jenkins moved to the sideboard, where he
poured the stingiest brandy on record, then after a look from his employer grudgingly
added more to the glass before handing it to a clearly amused Stapleton.  He
departed with an audible sniff.

“That was poorly done of you,” said Stapleton to the marquess
as he savored his first sip.

“It was rather, wasn’t it?” said Riverton, as he settled
into a chair and motioned for Stapleton to do the same.  “Now what can I do for
you?”

“I heard about the events at the Tarlington ball,” said Stapleton,
serious once again.  “Has Lady Elizabeth been harmed?”

“Thank the Lord, no.  At least not physically.  The social
implications, as you might imagine, will be disastrous.  How did you hear?”

“Surely you know how quickly news like that travels.  I was
investigating a break-in nearby and heard the servants speaking of it.  I
didn’t want to intrude at Lynwood House until I’d spoken to you.”

“They won’t have need of Bow Street.  And you needn’t
worry.  Lynwood told his brothers to leave the lord in question in peace.”

“I have a mind to call on the fellow myself.”  Stapleton had
become friends with the Kellington family while investigating Ned for murder
earlier in the year.  Riverton had no doubt the inspector would lend whatever
assistance he could to the family – both officially and on his own.

“I sympathize.  But it was thought that the less commotion
the better.”

“What will happen now?”

“My guess is she’ll be married within three months.  Lynwood
is coming up with candidates as we speak.”

“I see,” said Stapleton as he took another sip.  “Shall I
wish you happy?”

Riverton stared at his friend, at a loss for words.

“You will offer for her, won’t you?” asked Stapleton.

Riverton tried to swallow.  Had he been that obvious?  “She’s
just a child.”

“She’s one-and-twenty and only nine years your junior. 
She’s old enough to marry and I can’t imagine Lynwood entrusting her to anyone
but you.  Furthermore, I believe you’d suit admirably.”

Riverton tried not to see the wisdom in Stapleton’s words,
since he knew they’d come to naught.  “You’re just saying that because there
are so few members of the peerage you like, so you’re simply sticking two
together you can tolerate.”

“While it’s true that I’m not a particular fan of many
members of your lot, I have a great deal of respect for Lady Elizabeth,
although I must say I was surprised by some of the ideas I read in her
treatise.  However, I believe the two of you would do well together.”

“You can’t possibly think I agree with her views.”

“No.  But I’ve seen the two of you together and unless my
instincts have failed me – and keep in mind I am one of Bow Street’s best – I
believe your interest in Lady Elizabeth is not that of simply a family friend.” 
Stapleton put down his drink and waved off another.

“How obvious am I?” asked Riverton, not really wanting to
hear the answer.

“I picked up on it, although I’m not sure if Lynwood has.”

“And have you noticed any feelings she might have for me?” 
Riverton cursed himself for asking, but he was at wit’s end on how to proceed.

Stapleton paused to examine his glass.  “I’m not quite
sure.  Women are harder for me to read.  But she deserves someone who cares for
her and will treat her well.”

“You think we should marry because I’d be good for her?”

“Partly,” said Stapleton, looking at his friend once more.  “But
I really think you should marry because she would be good for you.”  He rose
from his chair.  “I need to get back to my investigation.  I’ll be stopping at
Lynwood House during the next few days, but please tell his grace to call for
me if I can be of assistance.”

Stapleton departed, leaving Riverton to his disconcerting
but intriguing thoughts.

CHAPTER SIX

Despite lingering over breakfast, Riverton found himself
outside Lynwood House at the unfashionably early hour of nine of the o’clock
the next morning.

Only to learn he wasn’t the first visitor of the day. 

The Earl of Stalford was exiting the house as Riverton
climbed out of his carriage.

“What brings you here this early, Riverton?” asked Stalford
in an appallingly good mood. He was wearing a garish chartreuse waistcoat, no
doubt one of those monstrosities he’d bought in Paris that he was constantly
going on and on about.

“Calling on my friend, Stalford,” said Riverton stiffly.

“Don’t keep Lynwood too long – the man barely had time for
me this morning and Elizabeth isn’t receiving at all.  But it’s to be expected
when you think about it.”

Riverton clenched his jaw in response to Stalford’s use of
Lizzie’s Christian name.  “I can’t imagine any young lady receiving at this
hour the morning after a ball.”

“Yes, but she’s not just any young lady and that was far
from just any ball,” said Stalford with a snort. “Elizabeth will be ruined
unless proper action is taken quickly.  It’s good of you to come and show your
support.  I’m sure Lynwood will fill you in on my solution.”                

With those words, the cheerful Stalford somehow descended
the rest of the steps without being pushed by Riverton. 

But it was a very near thing.

Riverton approached the door, only to have it opened by a visibly
relieved Heskiss.

“Welcome back, my lord,” said the butler.

“Thank you, Heskiss,” said Riverton as he handed him his hat
and walking stick.  “How is Lady Elizabeth this morning?”

“I hope she is well, my lord.  We’ve had a steady stream of
visitors this morning, so she has kept to her rooms.”

Riverton was surprised but pleased to hear of the visitors. 
If ladies were calling to show their support, perhaps the situation wasn’t as
dire as he thought.  Then he looked around.  The foyer was filled with
bouquets.

“It looks like a Covent Garden flower stall,” said Riverton,
wondering just how many gentlemen had been there before him.

“I would certainly hope not, my lord,” said Heskiss, as he
pushed one vase of flowers back in alignment with the others.

Lynwood walked out of his study.  He was impeccably dressed,
as always, but had dark circles under his eyes.  “Marcus, thank God you’ve
come.  Heskiss, I don’t want one more damned fortune hunter to come through
that door.”

“Of course not, your grace.”

“How many have been here?” asked Riverton.

“Too damned many,” said Lynwood, walking toward the
breakfast room.  “Have you eaten?  I haven’t had time to break my fast, what
with entertaining offers from men suddenly overcome with the desire to rescue
my sister while simultaneously saving their estates and paying off their vowels. 
Please help yourself,” he said as they reached the sideboard.   The Kellingtons
often had informal meals, even if they were eating off centuries-old china
emblazoned with the ducal crest.

“I’ll only have coffee, thank you.”

With a nod, Lynwood dismissed the servants, then filled his
own plate and took a seat.

“Have you received any eligible offers?” asked Riverton,
pleased that his voice sounded reasonably steady.

Lynwood took his seat. “Stalford.  He’s not a bad choice…”

“You’re jesting!”   The reasonable voice having been firmly
vanquished.

“Still not a fan of Stalford, eh?  He is self-serving in
Lords, but that’s hardly unusual.  He seems sincere in his concern for Lizzie and
comes from a good family.”

“His pockets are to let.”

“I asked him about that.  He assured me it’s because he’s
worked, in his words, ‘tirelessly and heroically’ on his tenants’ behalf,
reinvesting rents from his estates to modernize farming methods.  It’s quite
admirable, really.”

“What does Lady Elizabeth say about this?”

“I haven’t yet discussed him with her.  I wanted to take a
few days to come up with a list of candidates.  But perhaps Stalford is the
answer.”

Riverton’s response was a terse “He’s not.” 

The marquess barely restrained himself from smashing his
coffee cup against the wall.  This couldn’t be happening.  And it especially
couldn’t be happening before he could come up with a plan.

Lynwood raised an eyebrow, surprised at his friend’s vehemence. 
“Then who is the right choice?”

“I am,” said Riverton.  “I would be the best husband for
Lady Elizabeth.”

Lynwood’s heavily laden fork stopped midway between plate
and mouth.  It hovered there for a moment as the duke studied his best friend,
then he finally put it down.

“Are you offering?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Lynwood digested that information for a moment, his face
carefully blanked. “Why?”

Riverton didn’t know the right answer, although he was aware
of the real reason.  He was truly, painfully in love with his best friend’s sister. 
He’d spent the first half hour after going to bed the previous night trying to
convince himself not to offer for her.  Then he’d spent the rest of the night
dreaming of making love to her. 

But he couldn’t exactly say that to her brother.

He cleared his throat.  The next few moments would be some
of the most important of his life.  He had to win Lynwood to his side.  And
he’d do it with the same tools he’d use in the House of Lords:  logic and
reason.  “I have a great deal of respect for your sister.  She’s everything a
man could want in a wife.  For my part, I would provide the protection of my
name.  She would become a marchioness, and, if we are blessed with children,
the Riverton line would be joined with the house of Lynwood.  My estates are in
sound financial shape.   She would be provided every comfort and allowed the
freedom she craves – within reason, of course.  All in all, it would be a most
fortuitous match, as well as a solution to the current situation.”

Logic and reason.  They paled in comparison to how heated
his blood became just by the very thought of making Lizzie his wife.  He hadn’t
even considered it a possibility until he’d spoken in haste moments earlier. 
But now, all he could think of was making it a reality.  And for the rest of
his life, he would always wonder how he could’ve described the passion running
through him with such bloodless words.

He wouldn’t be the only one.

Lynwood didn’t speak.  He could only stare. 

The silence was finally broken by Heskiss clearing his
throat.  “Your grace, Lord Riverton, Lady Elizabeth has joined you, accompanied
by Lords Arthur and Henry.

Riverton and Lynwood turned to see a silent, wide-eyed
Lizzie, accompanied by her equally surprised brothers.  It was unclear how long
they’d been standing there, but from their expressions, it had been long
enough.

“I know the gentlemanly thing to do would be to leave the
room and pretend we’d never been here,” said Arthur, walking to the sideboard. 
“But I have the devil of a headache and am in desperate need of coffee.  Sorry,
Riverton.  But carry on as if we’re not here.”

“Please do,” said Hal, snatching an apple from a bowl.  “I
haven’t been this entertained in ages.”

“I know it is quite too much to ask,” said their sister, 
who’d finally found her voice, “but can the two of you please hold your tongues
until some day in the distant future when your meager brains hatch thoughts of
worth?”  She was addressing her brothers, but her eyes were fixed firmly on
Riverton.

“Don’t mind her,” said Arthur to Riverton.  “The brat is
always in a mood most foul until she has her chocolate.  You may want to keep
that in mind with any thoughts toward matrimonial bliss.”

Lizzie tore her gaze away from Riverton and turned to
Lynwood.  “Am I to understand that the Earl of Stalford expressed an interest
in courting me?”

“He asked if he may pay his addresses,” replied Lynwood.

“And all those flower arrangements in the foyer?” she asked.

“From various admirers.  Some suitable, some not.”

“And just who would determine their degree of suitability?” 
asked Lizzie with more than a hint of steel in her voice.

“The head of the family,” said Lynwood in a matching tone. 
“With your input, of course.”

“Of course.”  She turned back to Riverton.  “Am I to
understand, my lord, that you are proposing marriage as some sort of rescue? 
As one might take in an abandoned pet?”

“Does my offer of marriage offend you Lady Elizabeth?” he
asked, with the hint of a wry smile.  “I assure you that was not my intent.”

“Marriage to the Marquess of Riverton would be an honor for
any woman,” she said.

Riverton released the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“But as a proposal, that, sir, was only slightly less
romantic than when Heskiss gives the footmen their weekly assignments.”

“Technically, it wasn’t a proposal.  I was only asking
Lynwood for permission to address you.”

“And you did it with all the enthusiasm of a man approaching
the gallows.  Why would you offer for me if you don’t wish to?” 

“Who says I don’t wish to?”

“You don’t have to say it.  It was clear from your
proposal.”

“It wasn’t a proposal!”  The woman was maddening.

“That is my very point.  It was a ‘joining of the Riverton
and Lynwood lines,’ as if you were selecting a brood mare from a line of
winning racehorses!”  She came close to, but narrowly avoided, stomping her
foot.

“She needs her chocolate,” said Arthur, as he dug into his
rasher of bacon.

“Arthur, Hal, perhaps we should give our sister and Riverton
some time alone,” said Lynwood, already walking toward the door and fully
expecting to be followed.   “And, Riverton?”

Riverton and Lizzie both looked at him.

“You have my permission to offer for my sister – God help
you.” Lynwood had just the hint of a smile as he left the room, followed by
Arthur and Hal, clutching their plates as they went.

Then Lizzie and Riverton were absolutely and frighteningly
alone.

It had been a sleepless night for Lizzie.  Her mind had
raced with the events at the Tarlington ball.  The snubs, the leers, the
unaccustomed feeling of not being in control.  There was the ham-handed mauling
by the idiot baronet and a rather nice conversation with the Earl of Stalford. 
But foremost in her mind had been the Marquess of Riverton.  Marcus.

Not just his rescue, which was quick-thinking and gallant. 
But the waltz.  Then the conversation in the garden.  It was a new experience
to be treated like an adult, especially by someone like Riverton. 

Although, once she thought about it, it hadn’t seemed out of
character for him at all.

He’d always listened to her.  Even on those long-ago visits
to Lynwood Manor during school holidays, he’d been the one to listen to her
while her brothers couldn’t wait to leave her behind.  She’d thought him
remarkably handsome, but terribly old.  For his part, he’d always treated her
politely, but somewhat distantly.  But last night, they seemed to be equals.  There’d
been an intimacy and understanding unlike any she’d ever experienced.  And she
was intrigued to see where they’d go from there.

She’d been watching out her window that morning to see a
steady stream of men arrive at the house carrying flowers, only to be sent out
again moments later.  And what a parade it had been.  Second sons, first sons
known for their gaming addictions, infamous rakes.  And they all thought they
now stood a chance to win her fortune.  Nothing else could’ve have shown her
just how low she’d fallen than that group of suitors.  The only decent one of
the bunch had been the Earl of Stalford.

Until Marcus had arrived.  She’d finished dressing quickly,
anxious to see him, only to arrive in the breakfast room to hear the most
dispassionate declaration she could ever imagine.   She knew from their
discussion the previous evening that he’d resigned himself to a marriage of
convenience.  But it had never been her dream to be just a convenience to
anyone.  Especially not to her husband.

And now he was looking at her, expecting an answer.

She raised her chin and met his eyes.  “My lord, I cannot
allow your sacrifice.”

“And what sacrifice would that be, Lady Elizabeth?”

“To give yourself in marriage simply to save the house of
Lynwood.  I realize you and Liam are friends, but even he wouldn’t expect such
an act.”

“This has nothing to do with Liam.”

Which somehow made it worse, thought Lizzie.  She could see
how helping out a friend could lead one to make such a dispassionate plea for
marriage.  But if he was taking his feelings for her into account and still
couched his proposal in such terms as might be found in some sort of scientific
journal expounding on a species of plant, it was depressing beyond belief. 
Actually, worse, since she’d had the misfortune of attending a most boring
lecture at the Zoological Society a few months earlier and the scholar had been
positively euphoric.  About a plant.   

She was determined to get a reaction out of Riverton,
similar to that nice-but-boring Mr. Turnbridge and his flora of the Amazon.

She took two steps closer to him, breaking the standard
barrier of propriety.  She noticed he somehow stilled his initial reaction to
back up.  “May I call you Marcus?  You did just propose, after all.”

“I didn’t propose.”

“So you’re going back on your offer?  Are you jilting me,
Marcus?”  She knew she was twisting his words, but didn’t care.

“Of course not.”  He was maddeningly calm.  “I only made my
intentions clear to your brother.  If given permission, I intend to court you
for a reasonable amount of time, then ask for your hand.”