Never Miss a Chance (9 page)

He was hard again.  How could it have happened so quickly
after his last release?  He knew exactly how.  By imagining her lips on his
cock.  Thinking of any part of her near his cock was enough to do it.  How
could he ever control himself if she shared his bed?  Perhaps separate bed
chambers was a good idea.  It was the only way he could keep from frightening
her.  It was the only way he’d ever get any sleep.

CHAPTER NINE

Ultimately, Lizzie’s decision to marry had less to do with
society’s censure than with the unexpected rejection from a wholly surprising
source:  the women’s reform groups she’d worked so closely with.

At the first meeting following the publication of her
pamphlet, the other ladies offered perfunctory congratulations.  She hadn’t
been expecting a full-fledged fete with flowers and a string quartet.  Although
it wouldn’t have gone amiss, either.  But the tepid response was surprising.  Some
ladies barely met her eyes.   Others touched fingers so briefly it was if she
were a hot poker and they were afraid of being singed, then bludgeoned. 

A few ladies had seemed downright hostile, as if Lizzie had
been expounding the very opposite of their views, instead of spelling out what
they’d all agreed upon privately.  The key, it seemed, was that Lizzie went
public.

“Might I remind you, Beverly,” Aunt Prue had crooned to the
dowager Countess of Thorndike, “that Lady Elizabeth brought this discussion
into the ballrooms and sitting rooms of the ton, which will influence how it is
discussed in Parliament.  She has done the cause a great service.”

“And might I remind you, Prudence, that there were young
girls in attendance at the Tarlington ball who should’ve been sheltered from
the very notion of divorce and other such distasteful subjects.  Why, my own
granddaughter asked what recourse a wife might have if her husband beat her. 
She shouldn’t even know of such things, nor should she question them. 
Especially since none of the noblemen we know would ever effect such cruelty upon
their wives.  Even if it were deserved.  Such unpleasantness is the curse of
the lower classes, and if they could but contain it, we would never have our
senses offended by its discussion.”

At that, the dowager countess looked quite pointedly at
Lizzie.  Aunt Prue took her niece’s hand to forestall the explosion she knew
was forthcoming.  Truthfully, she might join in the fireworks herself, finally
giving the Dowager Countess of Thorndike the setdown that was so long overdue. 
But before either could respond, Mariah stepped in, surprising everyone since
she rarely spoke at these meetings.

“One never knows what a so-called nobleman is like in
private,” she said, swallowing nervously.  “I pray your granddaughter never
needs to learn the answer to her question, especially since there isn’t a good one. 
A wife is her husband’s property, to be done with as he sees fit.  There is no
recourse for her.”

Mariah fell silent, staring intently at the pattern in the
carpet.  Aunt Prue placed her hand on hers, a motion that also earned a
speaking glance from the dowager countess.  Lizzie knew very little of Mariah’s
life before she’d become Aunt Prue’s companion some twenty years earlier.  But she’d
long suspected it hadn’t been a happy one.

“I’m quite proud of Lady Elizabeth,” said Rosalind.  “She
has shown great courage and endured the scorn of the less enlightened.  We
should all be so brave.”

Rosalind raised her tea cup in salute, encouraging others to
follow her example.  Most of them did, but a more half-hearted exercise had
rarely been witnessed.

The next meeting of the reform group went even worse. 
Attendance was less than half of usual.  And most of the women present were
from the merchant class.  Lizzie was hardly a snob, but even she knew the best
chance they had for parliamentary reform was the influence the upper class
women exerted on their husbands and peers.

The third meeting wasn’t actually even a meeting, since a
quorum was unable to be met. There were only five women in attendance, one of
whom had just returned from the country and was unaware of what had transpired. 
Once she was brought up to speed she had a quick case of the vapors, then cited
a previous engagement which necessitated her immediate exit.

The whole unpleasantness finally came to a halt when the
honorable Judith Eagleton, chairwoman of their little group and the eldest
daughter of Viscount Bleeker, called on Lizzie at Lynwood House, asking her to
formally withdraw from the organization.

“I’m sure you know how much this pains me personally,” said
Miss Eagleton, between bites of her third tea cake.  “While you and I have never
been especially close, I’ve always had a great deal of respect for your
brothers, and, of course, have some admiration for certain characteristics of
your personality.  Where are they?”

“My characteristics?” asked a bemused Elizabeth, who
couldn’t help but notice that Judith was a bit overdressed for a simple call on
someone she’d never been especially close to.  One might say she looked like a hopeful
duchess-in-waiting.  A wait that Elizabeth knew would be lifelong, if the duke
she was hoping to bag was Lynwood.  She’d once overheard him describe Judith to
their brothers as mean-spirited and duller than the sharp edge of mud.

“Your brothers.  I was hoping they’d be able to explain how
your actions have in fact impeded the cause you claim to support.  Your
pamphlet was so scandalous that undue attention has been paid to our group. 
Husbands, fathers, brothers and mamas have forbidden various young ladies from associating
with the group while you are still a member.  Therefore, we must ask you to resign. 
For the good of the cause.”

“For the good of the cause.  Tell me, Judith, whom do you
believe will fund your works, now that I’ve been uninvited?”

“It is gauche to discuss funds,” chided Miss Eagleton as she
attacked her fourth cake.

“It is equally gauche to run out of blunt.  I was, by far,
the largest investor in our group’s activities, including the various charities
we supported.”

“You may, of course, continue your financial support,” said
Judith.  “No one is stopping you from that.  We would just prefer that it be
handled quietly, if not anonymously.  Or, as an even better suggestion, his
grace could give us the funds.  I’m sure no one could object to his
participation.  I could even speak to him personally, since I’m here and all.”

Judith rose, as if her presence in Lynwood’s study had just
been commanded by the great man himself.

“You could speak to him, Judith, except I’m afraid I’m kicking
you out of my house,” said Lizzie as she, too, rose to her feet.

“What?”

“I won’t be the one to physically turn you out, much as it
pains me to pass up such an opportunity.  I’m sure Heskiss has any number of
footmen available to do the job, but I am the one who must ask you to leave –
without speaking to his grace.”

“This is incredibly rude,” said Miss Eagleton, even as the
ever efficient Heskiss entered the room, ready to escort the lady out.

“It was rather rude of you to so unceremoniously kick me out
of the group I formed and pretty much solely funded.  But good luck in your
future efforts.  Heskiss, if you please.”

With that, Lizzie had the chance to see one of her least
favorite people whisked from her presence.  She thought of sending along a few tea
cakes by throwing them at the woman, but thought better of it.   Cook would be
most offended.

Lizzie would almost certainly continue funding the group –
especially the charities.  She still believed in the cause, she thought
glumly.  Even if the cause had given up on her.

Twenty minutes later, Lizzie had another visitor, this one
much more welcome.

“I would’ve taken great joy in physically escorting Judith
from the house.  Possibly even giving her a discreet shove down the steps,”
said Rosalind, as she sipped her tea.  “I shall be pleased to resign from the
group after expressing in great detail just why I’m leaving.”

“Too bad you can’t announce your engagement to Liam at the
same time,” joked Lizzie.  “The only reason half of them joined was to get access
to my brother.”

Rosalind choked on her tea. 

“I’m sorry Rosalind,” said Lizzie with a laugh.  “I know you
have no designs on any of my brothers.  It would be lovely if you did, for all
our sakes.  Especially theirs.  I can’t imagine any of them marrying better
than you.”

“A penniless spinster whose scapegrace brother is well on
his way to squandering his inheritance?  Yes.  I’m surprised eligible suitors
haven’t broken down the door demanding my hand.”

“If only you saw yourself through my eyes,” said Lizzie with
all the conviction of a true friend.

“Let us focus on the task at hand,” said Rosalind as she
settled her cup in the saucer.  “Have you given any more thought to accepting
Riverton’s offer?”

“I’ve thought of little else.  While it would solve my most
obvious problems, it doesn’t seem fair to him.  He shouldn’t be punished for
trying to get me out of the suds.”

Rosalind studied her friend.  “Do you truly think that’s why
he offered?”

“I never thought I’d say this since I do think rather highly
of myself, but the man could do better than to be married to me.  While I’m
well-dowered and from a good family, I’m opinionated, lamentably lacking in the
gentler arts in which ladies are meant to be skilled and cannot conceive of being
an obedient spouse.  Or even biddable.  It is not beyond the realm of
possibility that I might cosh him, but only with good cause, of course.”

“Of course.  But what are your feelings toward him?”

Lizzie busied herself with the tea tray, suddenly intent on
putting it to rights.

“He is highly intelligent.  He has more than his share of
common sense.”

“Possibly even enough for the both of you,” Rosalind said
with a smile.

“Impertinent of you to mention, but true.  He dresses well,
but could never be described as dandyish.”

“I should say not.”

“He treats his servants well and somehow refrains from
sending his female relations on long one-way journeys to places where Barbary
pirates are in abundance.  Although I should think even the pirates would give
those ladies a wide berth.”

“They can be quite trying,” admitted Rosalind as tactfully
as possible, as she picked up a tea cake.

“They are atrocious,” corrected Lizzie.  “And I cannot
imagine they won’t try to thwart his marriage plans once they become aware of
them.”

“But you won’t be marrying his family.”

“True.  Although I cannot imagine they wouldn’t signify at
least a little.  On the plus side, he is a good conversationalist, has wit and,
more importantly, recognizes it in others.”

“So he finds you interesting.”

“And, you, too, which is of vast important since you and I
are a package deal.  Any husband of mine must look forward to your visits.  He
should also be amenable to your living with us if you choose to do so.  And you
should.  There will be more than enough room and no matter how commendable my
husband, chances are I shall feel the need to complain about him ever so
often.  Complaints about me from him, of course, should be properly ignored.”

Rosalind’s eyes seemed to moisten, then she cleared her
throat.  “Lizzie, words cannot describe how very much I appreciate your
generous offer, but I cannot consider living with you.”

It had long been an issue of contention between them.  Rosalind’s
conditions at home seemed to deteriorate daily, especially now that the Duke of
Fallmoor’s year of mourning was drawing to a close.  Rosalind’s stepmother was
pushing her out the door and into his ancient arms.  Lizzie would do anything
to prevent it.

Lizzie took her friend’s hand.  “I want you to know the
offer will always be there.  I know it is only a matter of time until you meet
a gentleman you esteem, but in the meantime, I cannot countenance you making a
match with anyone just to please your family.”

“I don’t think my stepmother will give me much of a choice. 
But we’re not here to talk about me.  We’re discussing your decision and I fear
there is something troubling you about the eminently qualified Lord Riverton.”

Lizzie looked into the eyes of her too perceptive friend. 
“I fear he sees me as the sister of his dearest friend and not….”  She poured
more tea into Rosalind’s cup.

“And not as a woman?” asked Rosalind.  “Not as a husband
should look at a wife?”

“Exactly.  As unfashionable as it sounds, I want to be
loved.  I want my future husband to show his love…physically.  One cannot help but
notice that Riverton is a very handsome man, with excellent tailoring, broad
shoulders and strong legs.  Would you like more tea?”

“I am quite warm enough, thank you,” said Rosalind, whose
cheeks had a pale pink glow.

“How disappointing it would be to have access to all of that
fine masculine strength and never get anything more from it than a very proper
kiss on the cheek or, well, a hasty tumble on a Saturday night to ensure the
line of succession.”

“Lizzie!”  Rosalind’s cheeks now matched the bright pink
pillow at the far end of the settee that was loathed by all the men in the
family.

“I want more than that.”

“And you think Riverton would be incapable of giving it to
you?”

“I don’t think him ‘incapable’ as much as ‘hesitant.’  This
would be much easier if he were Lynwood’s sworn enemy rather than best friend.”

“You would never marry Liam’s – his grace’s – enemy, would
you?”

“No.  But you know how protective brothers can be with
sisters.”

“Not personally, no.  I think my brother would be just as
happy to sell me off to those Barbary pirates.”   Rosalind took another sip of
tea.  “Have you and Riverton kissed?”

 “No.   And he hasn’t even attempted it.  I say it’s
Lynwood’s fault.  At least I hope it is.”

Rosalind smiled outright.  “I think your marquess has more
romance in him than you believe.”

“I hope so,” said Lizzie.  “Because I would hate to spend a
lifetime without it.  I don’t know if love is possible, but I must have
passion.  And a wedding night is too late to learn if it exists.”