Authors: Rebecca King
Tags: #romance, #thriller, #historical fiction, #historical romance, #mysteries, #romantic fiction, #romantic adventure, #historical mysteries
“I am
sorry,” she burst out, her voice full of angst. “I should have told
you who I was.”
“Turn
around,” Ben ordered, and threw a disgusted glare at the men beside
them who were ogling her as much as they were relishing the scene
they were witnessing.
Lizzie
did not know if he was talking to her or the onlookers, but didn’t
bother to ask. Shaking her skirts out she slowly turned to face the
wall, horribly aware that her laces were undone and the majority of
her back was bared for the world to see.
Ben
didn’t speak as he tightened the laces, and sighed with regret as
he watched her push ineffectually at her hair in a futile attempt
to tidy it. Unfortunately, she could do little about the long
tresses that now lay in tousled abandon about her shoulders. With
no way to find her pins in the darkness, she was forced to leave
the silken mass loose and, as a result she looked wild and wanton,
and thoroughly ravished. It was a sight he knew would remain with
him for a long time; and something he wanted to recreate as soon as
he could get her alone again. He had never seen anyone look so
seductively intriguing before but needed to force his thoughts onto
more mundane matters before his body began to twitch into life
again.
“Elizabeth,” Ben murmured gently. He sought to find some way
of reassuring her that it would be all right, but didn’t want to
give Julian any opportunity to play to the audience.
“I am
sorry,” she whispered. It was all she could think of to say. A sob
hovered on her lips but, before she could attempt to explain
herself, her step-brother began his tirade.
“You are
nothing but a scoundrel, McArthur. You have ruined my sister. How
dare you take advantage of her, you blackguard?”
Behind
his booming voice, the low hum of hushed whispers snaked into the
gloom. Lizzie ventured an apologetic glance toward Ben, but winced
at what she saw in his eyes. He looked as though he had never seen
her before in his life. Even in the darkness she could see the cold
fury on his face. It was so virulent that it made her want to step
back, well away from the coiled power that positively vibrated off
him. She wished the ground would open up and swallow her; that she
could be anywhere other than in a darkened folly in a secluded
corner of the garden. Her chest heaved as she fought to quell her
tears, but they began to trickle down her face anyway. For some
reason, Ben’s condemnation of her was far worse than Julian’s
scorn, mainly because she felt more for Ben than Julian. It felt as
though she had just lost something precious; only she didn’t quite
know what ‘it’ was because she had never expected to find it in the
first place.
She
glanced at Julian. He was glaring at her with such vile hatred in
his eyes that she had to turn her back; on him; on all the curious
onlookers so she didn’t break down. There was no love lost between
her and her step-brother at the best of times, but she knew now
that their relationship was beyond repair. Nothing she said to him
would gain her any mercy from the querulous lambasting he would
unleash upon her the first chance he got. Given the outrage on his
face right now, she suspected he wouldn’t even wait until they were
back at Pendlebury to unleash his scorn.
His next
words confirmed her worst suspicions were correct.
“You
hussy,” Julian snarled at her. “How dare you behave like a common
whore and disgrace the family name?”
She mentally winced at the callous delight hidden in his
words and dug deep for enough self-control to keep her face bland
and disinterested. The nods and smirks of the unsympathetic, almost
gleeful people around him fuelled Julian’s arrogance. In that
moment she had never hated her step-brother, or the assembled
guests more, mainly because she knew that if anybody knew what a
common whore behaved like it was Julian. His debauched lifestyle,
gambling and whoring, was legendary amongst the
ton
. She had no doubt that his
behaviour over the years had been a thousand times worse than hers
but because he was a man it was considerably less frowned upon than
her sharing a few kisses in a darkened garden with a handsome, and
highly eligible bachelor.
“How
dare you speak to her like that?” Ben snapped.
Lizzie
jumped, and stared at him in stunned disbelief. He was defending
her? She wondered if she had missed something important, and
watched in amazement as he placed himself carefully between her and
Julian.
He is protecting me
. The thought
shimmered like a beacon of light in the darker recesses of her
mind, and thrilled her as much as it filled her with
worry.
“How
dare you ruin my sister?” Julian snarled.
“I am
not your sister,” Lizzie declared flatly.
The
contempt in Julian’s voice as he spoke broke something deep within
her. She stepped angrily around Ben so she could glare at Julian
rather than at Ben’s broad back. The hatred on her step-brother’s
face as he scowled at Ben was like adding kindling to her fiery
temper. Julian had always been loathing of her, no matter how hard
she tried to get him to like her but now, at one and twenty she was
done trying to win his favour.
Who did
he think he was to consider his own behaviour acceptable? He could
think what he liked as long as he didn’t try to destroy her
reputation, or Ben’s. She sucked in a deep breath and squared her
shoulders, determined to do battle.
“Shut up, Julian,” Lizzie snapped. “He is right. How
dare
you speak to me
like that? Who are you to judge anybody?”
Although
she kept her gaze on her step-brother as she spoke, her eyes slid
over each man standing around him pointedly as soon as she fell
quiet, silently including them in her question. For some reason,
Ben’s ready defence eased her fear of being ruined. His strength
gave her confidence to limit the amount of damage Julian did. She
didn’t care if she ‘ruined’ the family name, or what was left of
it. As far as she was concerned, Julian had done far more damage to
the family’s social status than her minor indiscretion and it was
about time he, and everyone else, knew it.
“Your
behaviour is despicable,” Julian snarled.
“Ha!”
Lizzie snapped. “That’s rich coming from you. Your reputation is
nothing short of atrocious. You are renowned for being a wastrel
yourself. How dare you cast aspersions on my name?”
“Shut
up, you guttersnipe.”
Lizzie
raked him with a disparaging glare. “Busy playing high stakes poker
in the back room with your friends again, were you? Or maybe you
intend to save that for the backrooms of the whore house
later.”
She
heard Ben’s swift intake of breath but he didn’t attempt to caution
her to mind her words. Silence fell over them while Julian
struggled to find a credible argument but couldn’t. They both knew
that what she had just said was true. Not only of him, but also of
most of the people who were gathered around them right now. People
who were now starting to look decidedly uncomfortable about being
there.
Before
Julian could find something to say, Lizzie turned to face Ben with
an apologetic look. “This must be disappointing. For that, I
apologise.”
“Apologise?” Ben demanded in a querulous voice. “For
what?”
“Please
excuse me,” she said stiffly, not wanting to go into detail in
public.
With as
much dignity as she could muster, she began to walk the dreaded
path toward the house. Tension grew as the now silent crowd parted
to let her pass through. She didn’t give anybody the satisfaction
of looking at them, but could feel their accusing gazes boring into
her with each step she took. The silence she left in her wake was
so thick that she was certain it could have been cut with a knife.
A part of her felt guilty for leaving Ben to face everyone on his
own but she desperately needed to get away from him, her
step-brother, and Melissa Bradwort, who was currently running down
the terrace steps toward them with a look of raw fury on her
face.
Gossip certainly spreads quickly
Lizzie thought snidely as she traded an insulting glare with
Melissa.
“Wait!”
Ben called when Lizzie was half-way across the garden.
“Stop
right there, McArthur. You have besmirched the Pendlebury family
name enough for one evening, and I want to know what you are going
to do about it,” Julian declared dramatically.
“What
family name?” Ben countered. “There is only you and Lizzie left
now, and you have just disgraced her more than I have.”
“How
dare you suggest that?” Julian puffed his chest out
pompously.
“I dare,
Pendlebury, because everyone who is anyone of note wouldn’t even
let you near their ballrooms if it wasn’t for Lizzie. It is only
because they take pity on her that you manage to get an invitation
anywhere. Why, most of the invitations you receive are for her. You
just come along for the ride,” Ben snapped.
Lizzie,
still listening to what was being said behind her suddenly slammed
to a halt. She closed her eyes on a silent prayer that it wasn’t
true but knew, as she flicked a fleeting glance at the people
around her and saw the discomfort on their faces, that it was the
truth. Deep inside she was painfully aware that Ben wasn’t the kind
of man who would lie about something like that, and it
hurt.
“Take
pity on me?” she whispered to nobody in particular.
She
turned somewhat pleading eyes on the hostess who had come outside
to see where most of her guests had gone. To her consternation, she
gave her a somewhat half-hearted smile that was as uncomfortable as
it was insincere. Lizzie studied the ever-growing crowd of guests
that had moved out of the ballroom to join them on the lawn. She
saw several of the hosts and hostesses of the recent social
functions she had attended; most of whom had been well acquainted
with her mother when she had been alive. Each one in turn carefully
looked away.
They pity me,
she thought as her
horror grew.
They actually invite me to
their functions because they feel sorry for me.
Something deep within her broke and began to crumble as
humiliation grew to painful proportions. She daren’t look too
deeply at the range of emotions coursing through her but knew that
no matter what Julian did or said, nothing could be more
devastating than this stunning revelation. Not even the spiteful
glare Melissa Bradwort levelled on her broke through the misery
that left her numb. Lizzie looked at her but turned her gaze away
before Melissa could say anything. Now, with nothing left to lose,
she didn’t care what any of these people thought. Nothing mattered
more than the realisation that Ben knew people pitied her. That was
more damaging to her than anything she had ever experienced in her
entire life.
“I
demand recompense,” Julian declared loudly to the group at
large.
“Oh,
shut up, you stupid man,” Lizzie snapped, whirling on her
step-brother with all of the anger that was bubbling within
her.
The host
of the ball, Angus Potterton, suddenly appeared from amidst the
crowd and moved to stand beside her.
“What’s
going on?” Angus demanded. He looked from Julian to Ben and then
back at Julian while he waited for an answer.
Ben had
known the host since they were young boys. He knew Angus hated
Julian as much as he did, and would put a stop to Julian’s boorish
behaviour as well. When he threw his friend a look that assured him
Julian was being an oaf, Angus nodded briefly and turned his
attention on his guest.
“This
blackguard has ruined my sister,” Julian declared
loudly.
“No, he
hasn’t,” Lizzie objected. Although her chin tipped up in defiance,
the look she gave Angus was apologetic. “Please accept my apologies
for the disturbance. There has been a terrible
misunderstanding.”
“Misunderstanding?” Julian snorted. “There has been no
misunderstanding. You were in a clinch with him.” He turned toward
the people behind him with his brows lifted. “We all saw you. You
were standing there with your skirts up while he
-
”
“You,
sir, shall behave with a bit more decorum. I suggest you stop
shouting this instant,” Angus snapped. He glared at several of the
onlookers, some of whom had the good grace to melt back into the
house without a backward look. “This is my garden and I shall not
stand for your boorish behaviour within it.”
“You are
making a fool of yourself, Pendlebury,” Ben added. “That wasn’t
what was happening at all.”
He ran a
frustrated hand through his hair. This had been the last thing he
had wanted – or was it? While it served his purposes perfectly in
one way; that in cementing his association with Lizzie, not just in
the guest’s eyes but in Lizzie’s as well, he was worried at just
how pale and distressed Lizzie looked. She made a valiant effort to
try to hide it, but the desperation in her eyes disturbed him
deeply. Determined to support her as best he could, he placed
himself firmly between Lizzie and her step-brother, and rested a
comforting hand on her waist when he noticed she was visibly
trembling with distress.