Never Miss a Chance (8 page)

“There’s nothing wrong with Isabelle’s comprehension, I
assure you,” said Lady Martin quickly as she frowned at her daughter for
revealing a potential weakness.  “If there’s any confusion, I’m sure it’s to be
found with the actors or the play itself.”

“But Mama, it’s Shakespeare,” said Lady Isabelle.  “He’s one
of the most acclaimed writers in all history.  The fault cannot lie with him,
can it?”

The look Lady Martin turned on her daughter would’ve quelled
Napoleon in his prime.  Riverton was about to put the woman in her place when
Lizzie stepped in.

“Might I sit next to you, Lady Isabelle?  Shakespeare can be
rather difficult to understand.  I know I had difficulties when I first began
studying his work. But as I am familiar with the play, perhaps I could answer
any questions you may have.”

Before Lady Martin could object, Isabelle smiled in relief
and pointed to the empty seat beside her.

“I should like that above all things, Lady Elizabeth.”

“But that is Riverton’s seat,” said his mother.

“Not to worry, Mama, I can sit here in the back,” he said,
as he gestured to an attending footman to bring a chair.  He would’ve much
preferred sitting next to Lizzie, but, absent that, a seat in back by himself
was the next best thing.  He noticed that Lizzie was already answering Lady
Isabelle’s questions and making the obviously nervous debutante feel more at
home.  Lizzie was much more adept at social gatherings than he was.  Perhaps
their marriage would make him more comfortable in public.

If they ever left the bedroom to find out.

The lights dimmed and Riverton sat back to enjoy the peace
that came with his mother’s silence.

*                    *                    *

“What do you think of the match?” Arthur asked Liam, where
they were safely ensconced away from Riverton’s box.

“He’s one of my oldest friends,” said the duke, as he kept
his eye on Riverton’s box.

“We know that,” said Hal.  “But what do you think of them
making a go of it?  Riverton’s obviously got plenty of blunt and his title goes
back to the Conqueror or the beginning of time or whatever it is that impresses
all the mamas, but he’s got no passion and our sister thrives on emotion.”

“Riverton is a serious, thoughtful man, one of the great intellects
of the House of Lords,” said Lynwood, uncomfortably aware of Lady Charlotte’s
efforts to catch his eye.

“Since when does membership in Lords qualify someone as a
good husband?” asked Arthur. “Our old hunting hound Sherwood was smarter than
some lords and considerably less randy.  I respect Riverton, but does he have
enough fire to attract Lizzie?”

“He’s lived a rather monkish existence, hasn’t he?” asked
Hal.

“Only in comparison to yours,” said Liam, who had his own
qualms about the match, even if he was reluctant to state them.  “Neither is a
twin of the other, which bodes well for compatibility.  It may help temper some
of our sister’s outspokenness.”

“It may,” said Arthur.  “But we wouldn’t want her to lose
too much of her fire.  Lizzie wouldn’t be Lizzie without her spark.”

There was much for Lynwood to think about as the lights dimmed. 
He glanced over at the nearby box to see Lizzie in quiet conversation with a
worshipful Lady Isabelle, then saw Riverton in the back row, his eyes trained
on Lizzie.  There was something in his countenance that made Lynwood wonder if
there was something more than duty and friendship in Riverton’s offer.

Suddenly Charlotte veered rather alarmingly into Lynwood’s
line of sight.  The girl bent forward, giving him a most impressive display of
her décolletage.  He quickly turned his attention to the stage and the start of
what he’d heard was the most mediocre production of the season.

But his mind was fixed on Riverton and the way he’d looked
at Lizzie.

*                    *                    *

As the lights came up, Riverton hoped to catch Lizzie’s eye. 
He’d been watching her during the performance and been enchanted by her rapt
attention to the play.  She had an innate energy that invested every part of
her.  She was the only person he knew who could make sitting still an
activity.  Bent slightly forward at the waist, lips turned up in a smile, her
eyes glinting with pleasure, Lizzie delighted in the performance.  And he
delighted in her.

As the play ended, Lady Isabelle, looking a bit confused,
leaned in to Lizzie to exchange a few words.  As Lizzie animatedly recapped the
play, Riverton’s eyes were only reluctantly torn away from her by a comment
from his mother, who was now at his side.

“She’s lovely isn’t she?” she said smugly.

“Quite,” he answered, as his eyes drifted back to Lizzie.

“I’m sure it can be arranged for you to have a few moments
alone together.  Lady Martin and I will be sure to drag the Kellington girl out
of here.  It will give Edith and Charlotte an opportunity to visit with his
grace.  Perhaps the rest of us can watch the play from the duke’s box, while
you enjoy some privacy with Lady Isabelle.”

Riverton reluctantly turned away from the object of his
thoughts.  “Mama, I have no need of privacy with Lady Isabelle.  Indeed, I
would hate to give the wrong impression since I have no intentions toward her. 
However, I would be most appreciative of a few moments alone with Lady
Elizabeth.”

Riverton’s mother looked like she’d been struck.  By a
servant.

“But you cannot possibly spend time alone in such a public
venue without giving cause to speculation, especially after your actions at the
ball the other night which were most unwise.   Your future lies with Lady
Isabelle.”

“Mother,” he said, low enough to avoid being overheard, “I
do not appreciate your matchmaking attempts.  You know my interest does not lie
in that direction.”

“I cannot see why it wouldn’t.  Her family is one of the
oldest in the ton and her portion would enable you to stop living in such
economy.”

Riverton knew she really meant that Lady Isabelle’s portion
would somehow loosen the purse strings in his mother’s and sisters’ living
allowance.  She couldn’t be further from the truth.  Her widow’s portion was more
than generous, as was the income for his sisters.  His father had not been
miserly.  Yet, none of the women in his family seemed able to live within their
means.  They overspent and continually asked for additional funds.  He had no
doubt that his mother was pushing the marriage for monetary gain.

“Mama, you willfully misunderstand my wishes.”

“I understand enough,” hissed his mother, “to know that you
flirt with making a tragic mistake by your attentions to that woman.”

“Mother, if by ‘that woman’ you’re referring to Lady
Elizabeth, I must remind you that her bloodlines are faultless and she is also
well dowered.  But much more importantly, both of those attributes are
outweighed by her character, intelligence and spirit.  Any man would be honored
to be her husband.”

“So you are considering making an offer?”  His mother’s eyes
were ice cold sapphires, as she studied him.

“That is a subject I am not yet willing to discuss.”

Especially since he was in doubt of whether he’d be
successful in winning Lizzie.  Not that he ever enjoyed discussing any aspect
of his private life with his mother.  If it did come to pass, she’d have to be
told.  Perhaps he’d let Lizzie inform her.  He had a feeling his intended would
enjoy that.  It would be quite entertaining to watch.

Lizzie and Lady Isabelle approached him.  They were, he
noticed with a smile, walking arm in arm. 

“Lady Elizabeth,” said Lady Riverton with a note of command,
“pray let me escort you to your family’s box.  I know his grace would like the
chance to converse with Edith and Charlotte, and Riverton is looking forward
ever so much to a private tete-a-tete with his Lady Isabelle.”

Riverton knew that as much as he would like to avoid a
private conversation with Lady Isabelle, Lynwood would like to avoid the
Riverton females even more.  It was embarrassing how his sisters constantly
threw themselves at the duke, but there was little Riverton could do but let
them continue, hoping they’d eventually tire of the futility of it all and find
themselves husbands.  As much as it pained him to admit it, he didn’t find it
likely that any man of good sense, name and fortune would offer for either of
his sisters.  He could only hope that two good men who needed the money would
eventually step forward.

“I thank you for the offer, Lady Riverton, but Lady Isabelle
and I are quite enjoying our conversation and I see my brothers more than anyone
should have to.  But that certainly shouldn’t stop you and the others from
visiting the Lynwood box.  I’m sure they’d be delighted to see you.” 

Lizzie was quite sure her brothers would be anything but
delighted, but since they’d been so craven as to avoid the Riverton box
altogether, they deserved at least a little discomfort from Edith, Charlotte and
their annoying mama.

At four and twenty, Edith was on the cusp on being placed on
the shelf.  Lizzie had never cared for society’s cut-off point for marital
eligibility, no matter how informal.  But in Edith’s case, she couldn’t imagine
any man saving her from a spinster state, even with her reportedly healthy
dowry.  Edith was spoiled, rude and a bully.  She was also overly fond of
sweets and avoided physical activity as if it had fleas.

Charlotte was the much more comely sister and well aware of
the fact.  At one and twenty, she’d reportedly entertained offers of marriage
from two gentlemen.  The first had been the third son of a baronet considered
too insignificant to matter, although he had been remarkably easy on the
eyes.   The second had been a much more eligible heir to a viscount. 
Unfortunately, he’d been dismissed by Charlotte as indolent (which might’ve
been forgiven) and spotty (which never would).

The thought occurred to Lizzie that if she did marry
Riverton, his family would become hers.  It was almost enough to put paid to
the idea of marriage – to anyone ever.  But she realized that the decision of
whether or not to marry him should be based on suitability, temperament and
physical attraction.  Lizzie didn’t care about his reported wealth, as long as
it included an estate far enough away to effectively exile his mother and
sisters.

Further musings of exile were interrupted by Lady Martin.

“Isabelle, why don’t you tell Riverton your impression of
the play?”

Lady Isabelle blushed at the very idea of conversing with
Riverton about such an intellectual subject.    

“Did you like the play Lady Isabelle?” he asked, gently.

“I did, my lord.  Lady Elizabeth and I were just discussing
its meaning.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“I did!  The theater is so….theatrical.  But what really
interests me are Lady Elizabeth’s notions of marriage.  She was just telling me
about her astonishing manifesto….”

“Isabelle!  I cannot believe you would discuss such a
scandalous subject,” said her irate mother, who somehow looked to be on the
verge of both swooning and pummeling Lizzie to within an inch of her life. 
“Come here this instant.  You will accompany Lady Riverton and me to the
Lynwood box.  There will be no more talk of any such manifesto.  Do you hear
me?”

“But Mama…”

“That’s enough!”

Lady Martin took her daughter rather forcefully by the arm
and pulled her out of the box.  Edith and Charlotte had already left, hoping to
forestall the lamentable exit of his grace and his brothers from the Lynwood
box. 

“My lord, will you join us?” asked Lady Martin sweetly, as
if an even-tempered twin had suddenly taken her place.

“Thank you, no.  I will stay and keep Lady Elizabeth
company.”

Torn between wanting to stay and chaperone the proceedings,
but not wanting those pushy Riverton girls to take the advantage with Lynwood –
it was never good strategy to let a negligent marquess occupy your time when
there was an available duke nearby – Lady Martin finally left the box.  But not
without one more scathing glare at Elizabeth.

After asking the footman to bring them champagne, Riverton
and Lizzie were finally alone.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Riverton had been hoping to find himself alone with Lizzie ever
since asking her to go to the theater.   Yet he found himself slightly
uncomfortable now that the time had finally arrived, in large part because of
the conflict between what he wanted to do and those few actions that were acceptable.

“I see you didn’t waste any time trying to get a convert to
your cause,” he said, as he admired how her skin glowed in the candlelight of
the box.

“Lady Isabelle is a very sweet girl and has an inquisitive
mind, if her mother would ever allow her to use it.  Did you know she’s never
read Shakespeare because her mother thinks him too coarse?”

“I’m surprised Lady Martin allows her to read anything at
all.  I know my mother discourages my sisters from reading anything more
challenging than DeBrett’s Peerage.  Although if my sisters object to the
restriction, I’ve never heard them complain.”

Lizzie grinned and it seemed to bathe the entire theater in light. 
Most extraordinary, that.

It was odd, thought Lizzie, to be alone with this man she
might marry, even if he hadn’t actually proposed.  He was quite handsome in his
evening clothes, but she’d been with handsome men before.  It was something
more than that which accounted for her slightly elevated pulse.  This man, who
had never raised his voice in her hearing, and, for all she knew, approached
every aspect of his life in the same calm, infuriatingly serene manner, seemed
to have an undercurrent of energy running through him by the very act of
standing perfectly, properly still, across the box from her.  He was making no
effort to take her hand, to maneuver her away from the prying eyes of others –
and Lizzie had no doubt they were the object of many an opera glass.  He was
standing across from her, but from the look in his eyes, it felt like he was
holding her hand.  With the promise of more to come.

Much more.

As much as it intrigued her, she found herself curiously shy. 
“What do you like to read, my lord?”

“History, geography.  I enjoy learning of explorers’
journeys as they make the world a smaller place.  I read the classics.”

“No doubt in their original Greek and Latin.”

“At times.  When I need a distraction.”

“And when do you need one?”

Without realizing, Lizzie had closed the gap between them
and found herself standing mere inches away. 

Her approach had not gone unnoticed by Riverton, whose eyes
bore into hers as she came to a stop.  “A distraction is frequently needed when
I’m planning strategy in Lords.  When problems arise on the estates that cannot
immediately be solved.  When my family proves challenging.”

“May I be presumptuous enough to assume they can be
challenging rather often?”

“God yes,” said Riverton, as he ran his hand through his
hair.  “You saw evidence enough of that tonight.  Currently, they’re your
brothers’ problem.”

“Shall we rescue them?” asked Lizzie, whose mouth had become
unaccountably dry.

“Your brothers can take care of themselves.  I know my
sisters certainly can.”

Lizzie wanted him to reach out and take her hand.  She
wanted him to press his lips to hers.  An impossibility in these circumstances,
but she wanted it nonetheless.

“Is Lady Isabelle your intended?” she blurted out.

After asking the question, Lizzie was unsure who was more
surprised: Riverton or herself.

“My mother and sisters would like it to be so, and, I
suspect, Lady Martin would not be adverse.  But it is not my intention and I
can discern no feelings on Lady Isabelle’s part toward me other than a friendly
apathy.  There is certainly no understanding between us.”

“She really is a lovely young lady, and with the right
guidance, she could grow to be quite influential for the cause.”

Riverton ran both hands through his now tousled hair.  “Lizzie,
while I admire your devotion to your cause, I ask you to please be circumspect
as to Lady Isabelle’s participation.  I fear she doesn’t have the spirit to
withstand the censure of others as you do.”

“But when a cause is right, why should we care what others
think?”

“Because we live in the real world, Lizzie, not one of idealism
and ‘should be’.”

She was now standing so close they were almost touching. 
She had to force herself to stop from going closer.

“You’re calling me Lizzie.”

He stepped infinitesimally closer to her.

“Should I stop?”

She shook her head.  “No.  I like it, Marcus.”

*                    *                    *

What madness had made him suggest the theater?  And what
business did Lynwood have leaving them alone?  Admittedly, Riverton realized
the presence of his mother and sisters was enough to drive anyone away, but he
was sure the heat between Lizzie and him was visible to the entire half of the
theater who’d stayed in their seats at the interval just to spy on their box. 
Lynwood should be there to protect his sister.

Riverton could no longer resist her appeal.  He reached out
his hand, only to be interrupted by the footman’s fortuitous and bedamned return
with the champagne.  Riverton gave her a glass, then watched as she brought it
to her lips.  He drank in the smooth glide of her throat as she swallowed, then
ached to see the moisture on her plump bottom lip as she moved the glass
away.   He wanted to kiss away the droplets, bring her into his arms and press
himself into her. 

But, fortunately for both their reputations, his family
chose that moment to re-enter the box with tales of how overjoyed his grace had
been to see them, how effusive he’d been in welcoming them and how reluctant
he’d been to see them go.  It was only because he was concerned that they’d be
hemmed in by his brothers that he’d let them return to their own box.  Such a
gallant man, the Duke of Lynwood.

And so very, very eligible.

Riverton returned Lizzie to her seat.  His mother tried to
outmaneuver him by suggesting that Lady Isabelle might like to sit in the back
next to him.  He was just considering how to get around that suggestion without
hurting the girl’s feelings when Lizzie came to his aid.  She once again
offered her services as Shakespeare interpreter and Lady Isabelle gratefully
accepted.  It seemed she was no more eager to change seats than he.

As a visibly displeased Lady Riverton settled into her seat,
Marcus sat back and resolved to at least try and watch the play, although how
he could resist the lure of gazing at the elegant nape of Lizzie’s neck, he
would never know.

*                    *                  *

At the end of a long evening, Lizzie settled into her
favorite night rail and wrapper.  After dismissing her maid, Lizzie poured a
glass of the brandy she’d stolen from Lynwood weeks ago, then walked out onto
her balcony to think about the developments of the day. 

She’s always known she’d marry, but she’d never given much
thought to the groom.  There’d been various flirtations through the years, and
a stolen kiss or two.  But none of the gentlemen she’d known had ever become
candidates for marriage in her mind.  She’d pictured herself as a mother, with
several – but not too many – children at her skirts.  But while she knew she’d
be married to their father, he’d always been a faceless cipher in her mind. 
The ideal gentleman, probably titled, would allow her the freedom she’d always
craved, while providing a home and the physical comforts she’d grown up with. 
It’s not that she wanted to marry someone of great wealth, but she’d seen
enough in her charitable works to know that having money was certainly more
comfortable than not.  And, as she took another sip of Lynwood’s rather
excellent brandy, she realized she liked to be comfortable.

Could Riverton be the right man for her?  She didn’t have to
worry about him gambling away their funds or getting so foxed he forgot to come
home.  Although the thought of a slightly inebriated Riverton made her
curious.  Would he let down some of his reserve?  Or would he be just as calm
and dignified as always?  It might be nice to feel a real pulse beating beneath
the fashionable clothing.  Just the thought of what else might lie beneath them
was enough to make Lizzie take a rather unladylike gulp of her brother’s
brandy.

She wondered if Marcus had a mistress.  Most men did.  She
was fairly sure her brothers did, although that was the type of conversation
strictly forbidden for any young ladies to engage in.  She’d once asked Hal if
he had one, and after he’d gotten over his shock that she even knew of such
things, he cheekily informed her that some men didn’t need to pay for the
favors of ladies and he was one of them.  Since she knew none of her brothers
would debauch an innocent, she had an idea that meant he was well acquainted
with some of the ton’s notoriously lonely matrons.  She knew it wasn’t uncommon
for married men and women to have affairs.  It was almost expected of their
set.  But she knew it wasn’t a life she wanted for herself.  She hoped Riverton
felt the same because even if their marriage wasn’t based on love, she would at
least want it to be one of respect and commitment.

Passion would be nice.  If he was capable of feeling it.

*                    *                  *

Riverton began to stroke harder. 

Lizzie was in her gown at the theater.  A deep green that
brought out her eyes.  It was a bold color for an unmarried woman, but she was
anything but demure, especially in his fantasy.

He’d been hard at the theater, studying her as she watched
the play.  He’d grown harder talking to her, while briefly alone at the
interval.  Now in his fantasy he and Lizzie were alone again, this time in his
room.  She walked toward him with a subtle sway of her hips.  She wasn’t shy. 
She didn’t back away.  She was his equal as she placed her hands on his
shoulders and turned her lips up to his.

He pulled her to him, letting her feel his hard length.  
With a hand at her back, he held her against him as his mouth took hers.  His tongue
boldly tasted her, while he ground himself against her.

She turned in his arms, allowing him to unlace her as he kissed
the nape of her neck.  She was warm and willing as his hand slid around to cup
her breast.  Her swift indrawn breath had an answering response in his groin.

As he pushed the dress off her shoulders, she turned again
to look at him.  Dressed in her chemise, her green eyes the darkest emerald,
she lifted the hem to show she wore no drawers, then she walked to the bed and
slowly bent over.

Riverton watched as she drew the chemise to her waist, the
pale skin of her shapely arse revealed to his worship.  He strode to her, unable
to stay away.  Unable to keep from touching her.  Taking her.  He placed one
long-fingered hand over her bottom and stroked downward.  She turned to flash
him a mischievous smile, her green eyes sparkling wickedly.

“Fill me,” she said.  “Fill me now.”

Never one to say to no to a lady, especially when she wasn’t
acting like one, Riverton pulled at the fastenings to his breeches, releasing
his stiff cock with one hand, while continuing to stroke her arse with the
other.  He imagined what it would look like to explode all over her.  To shoot
his seed up her back.  He angled his fingers downward to her inner folds,
finding her hot and wet.  Unable to wait even another moment, he positioned
himself at her opening and thrust in.

She arched her back in pleasure, undulating as he began to
move.  He was already close to bursting, but wanted to hold out long enough for
her to reach her peak. 

“Harder.  Faster,” she was able to ground out in a raspy
voice.  “Marcus, please.”

Riverton pounded into her, his hands gripping her hips.  His
balls hitting the insides of her thighs.  He was close to losing his mind when
he felt her inner contractions begin, then saw her buck as her climax hit.

She screamed his name.  He threw back his head and filled
her, shooting stream after stream of his seed into her.   Rocked to his core by
the strength of his release.

Riverton lay on his back, breathing hard.  He felt the
warmth of his seed on his stomach.  It had been but one of the fantasies he’d
been having about Lizzie on an almost constant basis.  Because of them, it was harder
and harder to face Lynwood.  It had also become incredibly awkward to be caught
anywhere other than his bed when the thoughts came upon him.  The fashion of
the day called for tight breeches which quickly made his thoughts apparent to
anyone in the vicinity.  He’d scared the downstairs maid just that morning when
she happened upon him walking to his study while thinking about Lizzie
stretched naked in a field at Riverton Farms in the country.

There was now the very real possibility that he would marry
Lizzie and have her in his bed every night for the rest of his life.  It was a
dream come true in so many respects.  But the challenge was whether he could
restrain himself enough so that his passion wouldn’t frighten her away.  

He was a very private man, so few knew of the occasional
mistresses he’d kept through the years.  And they’d been compensated well
enough to ensure discretion when their liaisons ended.  He’d enjoyed very
energetic relationships with them, even if they’d had little in common outside
of the bedroom.  With Lizzie, he knew there was potential for explosive
passion.

The thought intrigued and disconcerted him.

He didn’t want a ton marriage of separate bedrooms and
separate lives.  He wondered if he could do away with the marchioness’s
chambers all together, so she wouldn’t have a choice of where to sleep.  He
wanted Lizzie in his bed every night.  All night. 

In the morning, he hoped to be awakened by her lips on his,
kissing her way down his body.  Putting her lips around his cock, sucking until
he was close to bursting.