The Nude (full-length historical romance) (13 page)

* * * * *

Did she realize the effect she had on men when she let her eyes sparkle so?

Nigel supposed not, since no accompanying coy smile tugged on her artfully shaped lips. Nor did she sneak glances with the other men at the table to read their reactions. Her behavior was as straightforward and honest as a sunrise. The only fleeting glances she’d sneak were toward that damned painting on the wall.

He cursed his decision to hang that dratted painting in his drawing room. She was clearly repulsed—frightened even—by it, though her gaze seemed drawn to it.

George and Severin, the whist team Nigel and Elsbeth were pitting their wits against, were playing a sharp hand while talking incessantly about the most nonsensical topics. Elsbeth laughed prettily at a jest George made before laying down the queen of hearts—exactly the card Nigel had been waiting for.

“I’m tempted to smuggle you into the worst of London’s gaming rooms,” he leaned forward and said as he played his turn, winning the fifth consecutive game point. “I’d say your skills would win me a fortune several times over.”

“Then you simply must let
me
have her,” Severin said. “I could make better use of the lady’s skills than you ever could, Edgeware.”

Severin made the comment in such a lilting manner that no one would have taken him seriously. They were joking, having a bit of fun with the compliments. From the way the color drained from Elsbeth’s face, one would have thought they’d been contemplating selling her into slavery.

“I say,” Severin said, mirroring her distress. “’Tis a little jest, that’s all. Truly, nothing to get the vapors over.”

Elsbeth murmured something unintelligible. Since it was her turn again, she drew a card from her stack and dropped it on the pile without even looking at it. Her play stunned Nigel. The card she’d tossed down hadn’t followed the suit of the trick being played nor did it trump the highest card on the table. In fact, she’d revoked. A move only a novice player would make. According to the rules, they’d be penalized three points. Not that he cared about the points. It was her reaction that had him worried.

He tried to get her attention, to ask her what was wrong, but she refused to look up from the tabletop.

“Lady Mercer?” he asked softly. “Are you unwell?”

She blinked up at him for a silent moment before flicking a glance toward the drawing room door. At least she wasn’t sneaking another look at that accursed painting. Her slender hand reached up and clutched the locket hanging around her neck. The color in her cheeks faded further and her lips tightened when her gaze returned again to the drawing room door.

Something was terribly wrong.

Nigel rose as he followed her gaze. Charlie, followed by three of his friends, was strolling into the room like a group of well-groomed roosters.

“Nigel!” his cousin called out. “Surprise!”

* * * * *

Devils and demons
, Elsbeth cursed. She should have suspected a handsome demon like Lord Edgeware would be mixed up with a devil like Charlie.

“Lady Mercer.” Edgeware had somehow slipped from his chair and made his way to her side without her notice. He placed a steadying hand around her arm and urged her to her feet. “Lady Mercer, allow me to present my cousin, Mr. Charles Purbeck.”

She stared into Charlie’s dead eyes. A chill direct from hell sailed through her. Charlie and her husband had been two parts of a very close trio. The third, a Captain Pime, was still on the continent with the British army. When the three men had stayed at the estate, she’d felt as if she was their main prey. And it was Charlie, always Charlie, who’d mercilessly tease her husband about his lack of heirs. It was a topic that was a source of endless tension in their marriage, made worse by Charlie. While the men would drink in the parlor after supper, Charlie would whisper in her husband’s ear. She never knew exactly what he was saying to Hubert. But the result was always the same. Her husband’s face would turn a ruddy red and his eyes would harden every time he’d glance in her direction. And then, later—

Charlie took her hand with brash familiarity, caressing her fingertips before lifting her hand to his lips for a tender kiss.

“Elly,” he said. The nickname grated her nerves, and he knew it. He also knew how improper it was for him to be addressing her so intimately. “Elly, my dear, it is ever so good to see you again.”

He paused and licked his lips. “With the rumors of your indiscretion flying, I’d been worried about you. I’m glad to see you have found safety under my cousin’s . . . um . . . protection. I look forward to renewing our acquaintance this week.” His gaze held a wealth of promises that churned her stomach. Before she could tell him that she wanted to do nothing of the sort, he turned his back and greeted Lord Ames.

“Severin,” he said, and gave Ames a good pound on the arm. “Good to see you, man. We’ve missed you in our group. What with the war and all, our numbers have been dwindling. We need you back at our tables to help fill in the void, and our pockets.”

Charlie’s friends all laughed at the joke.

Edgeware frowned. “Now Charlie—”

“Don’t get your indignation all twisted about, cousin. Severin knows I’m just having a bit of fun.”

At his expense
, Elsbeth thought, remembering only too well the times she’d been the target of Charlie’s inappropriate humor . . . and worse, much worse once her husband and his friends had gotten deep into their cups. She moved to escape the drawing room and bumped into Edgeware’s chest.

He wrapped a comforting arm around her waist. “Easy,” he whispered. “There is nothing to fear here.”

She longed to believe him. But with Charlie in the room, she had reason enough to doubt her safety.

“Donald?”

Elsbeth glanced up at the sound of Lauretta’s voice. Sure enough, the fickle-hearted Sir Donald Gilforth stood beside Charlie, his fingers playing with a large crested fob hanging from his waistcoat pocket. How could she have missed him before? She was becoming careless, and with so many gentlemen about, that could prove dangerous.

Sir Donald stared blankly ahead as Lauretta rushed up to greet him. Elsbeth’s heart stopped. She pulled away from Edgeware just as Lauretta, with eyes bright and a pretty smile pursed on her satiny lips, stepped happily into what promised to be a crushing scene.

“Lord Edgeware,” Lady Waver bustled up and latched onto the Marquess’s arm. “Dinner is ready to be served.”

“Splendid,” said Charlie while capturing Elsbeth’s hand. “Please allow me to escort you to the dining room, Elly.” She had no time to refuse him. Not when there was a more pressing matter worrying her.

Lauretta’s fragile heart.

“Donald, it is wonderful to see you,” Lauretta was saying, her pink cheeks glowing.

“Yes,” Sir Donald said vaguely, no longer looking in Lauretta’s direction but at someone beyond her shoulder. “Excuse me, my lady.” He brushed past Lauretta and made a beeline to Lady Dashborough’s youngest daughter, the lovely Lady Constance.

“Oh dear,” Elsbeth muttered, and tried to hurry over to comfort her cousin. But Charlie held her back, squeezing her hand so hard she feared her bones might snap.

“Come along, Elly. Dawdling is so very unbecoming.” For a moment he sounded exactly like her dead husband, and she suddenly felt as helpless as a rag doll, unable to do anything other than obey. She might have let Charlie lead her away from her cousin and into the dining room if Edgeware hadn’t stepped into their path.

Anger smoldered deep within the brooding dark lord’s eyes. With a smooth motion, he freed her hand from Charlie’s crushing grip. “George has already claimed the right to escort Lady Mercer this evening,” he said.

George had done nothing of the sort.

But no matter, she was grateful for the lie.

George gave a little start, shook his head, and stepped forward. “Of course, I don’t know where my mind is.”

“I would have escorted you myself,” Edgeware quickly explained. “But Lady Waver would never forgive me if I were to ignore the convention of personally escorting the highest ranking lady into the dining room. I am the host, after all, and Lady Waver has graciously agreed to play hostess since this household has been woefully without one for over a decade. I will not upset her.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Elsbeth said, perplexed.

“And Mr. Waver will be crushed if a lady were to turn him away at the last moment.” Edgeware spoke so gently, so calmly. His voice soothed her raw nerves, and she was so very glad to accept his friend’s proffered arm.

Oh dear. Once free from Charlie, her concerns returned to Lauretta. The girl stood in the middle of the room, alone as a lost lamb. Tears were just starting to well up in her eyes as she stared, disbelieving, after her beloved Donald.

Olivia, Elsbeth saw, would be no help. She had attached herself to the illustrious “Beau” Brummel, certainly a coup of enormous proportions.

Elsbeth squeezed her eyes shut. She needed to take care of her cousin. As chaperone, Lauretta’s welfare was her duty and no one else’s.

“Mr. Waver,” she said and swallowed deeply. There was no hope for it. She’d have to feed herself to the lion in order to keep Lauretta from being stranded and brokenhearted in the middle of the drawing room. “I hope you’ll forgive me for crushing your spirit,” she said, “but, you see—” she cleared her throat “—I did not realize Charlie would be here. And since he was a dear friend of my late husband’s, I feel compelled to accept his company.” That didn’t quite come out as graciously as she’d intended. “Lady Lauretta is without a companion, sir.”

George followed her pleading glance and nodded, understanding her purpose. “Yes, of course. I see Lady Lauretta is waiting for me.”

Edgeware, unfortunately, didn’t seem to follow the byplay occurring between Lauretta and Donald or notice the young lady’s budding tears. His brows darkened as he stared daggers at Elsbeth. “Forgive me for presuming, Lady Mercer,” he said tightly and stormed over to where Lady Waver was waiting.

Halfway through the meal, food Elsbeth scarcely touched, Charlie leaned over and spoke in a low voice just loud enough for her ears. “I don’t know how you tricked your way into this house party. I’m truly surprised to find you under my cousin’s roof. I’d have thought that glorious nude painting would have transformed you into a social pariah.” He took a bite of the roast pheasant on his plate. “No matter, Elly. I don’t even care that you’ve attracted my cousin’s attentions. You’re still the most beautiful woman in all of England.”

He chewed and swallowed. “And I would dearly like to renew our acquaintance and take it to a deeper, more intimate level. Before this house party is over, Elly, I will have you in my bed.”

No!
She had told him emphatically, no! And he’d laughed.

That night, Elsbeth tossed in her bed, unable to sleep. Charlie had made himself only too clear. He wanted her. He’d tried time and again to convince her husband to share her. For the most part, Hubert had resisted. And she had
always
resisted. She wanted nothing to do with Charlie. Ever.

She stared into the darkness while listening to the light snores of her two cousins in the adjoining room, and worried.

Though Charlie had been one of her husband’s closest friends, almost always accompanying Hubert when he’d return from London after the Season, he certainly wasn’t her friend. Charlie used to sip his brandy and smile as he watched Hubert take his angers and frustrations out on her. It was as if he enjoyed seeing her cower, as if he enjoyed seeing her humiliated and suffering.

Elsbeth winced as the dark memories swirled through her head. They pricked like tiny infected wounds. She fought to push them away, crying softly into her pillow.

Charlie was back in her life, again. Why? What could he possibly gain from tormenting her?

With nothing at all resolved and an ocean of unease thrashing through her body, she finally slipped into a troubled slumber just as dawn sparked on the horizon. Morning sunlight streamed down tinting a wide field of wildflowers an eerie purple shade. She rubbed her eyes, wondering just how she came to be in this place. And still dressed in her nightrail.

She couldn’t remember leaving her bed. She turned around, searching for Purbeck Manor or, for that matter, any sign of civilization. The field of wildflowers stretched out for as far as she could see.