Three Weddings and a Murder (2 page)

The one constant in all these stories?

Mr. Wright was a scoundrel. For any young lady, simply being in a room alone with him would mean teetering on the verge of ruination. For Eliza, it could mean the end of everything.

She darted across the room, heading for the connecting door that led into the corridor. From there, two sharp turns would have her dashing safely upstairs.

She fumbled for the door latch and wrenched it open.

A strong masculine hand covered hers, pushing the door closed.

“You don’t want to leave,” he said calmly. “Not yet.”

Eliza stared up at him, horrified. “I assure you, I do.”

He leaned one shoulder against the door, effectively bolting it in place. “A word to the wise, my dear. I wouldn’t set my hopes on Peter Everhart. Word around the clubs is, he hasn’t been the same man since his wounds at Trafalgar. Not much of a man at all, if you catch my meaning.”

“I shouldn’t catch a sack of gold, if
you
were the man who tossed it.”

He chuckled.

She laid a hand to her belly, feeling sick. Peter Everhart,
unmanned
at Trafalgar? It couldn’t be true. So young, and so handsome.

She wanted to go up to her room and cry. “Please, sir. Let me pass.”

He nodded toward the double doors Georgie had used. “Why don’t you go the other way?”

“I can’t. Those doors open onto the ballroom, and I…I’m not permitted in the ballroom.” She burned with the humiliation of admitting it. “I’m not yet out.”

His eyebrows soared. “Ah. So
you’re
the mysteriously missing Miss Cade. From the way they keep you hidden from sight, I assumed you must have a harelip.”

“Nothing of the sort. I
should
be out. I’m certainly old enough. I have accompl—”

“Accomplishments and bosoms and everything.” His bold gaze drifted down her gown—a simple, modest column of eggshell satin. “Yes, I heard.”

Her cheeks blazed. “Kindly stop looking at me that way.”

“You wanted them noticed.”

“Not by you, sir.”

He gave her a slow, knowing smile. “Oh, you want to be noticed by everyone. I’ve known girls like you. Uncommonly pretty, and much too aware of it. That’s the true reason they’re locking you away, isn’t it? You would flutter and flirt, steal all the attention from your sisters.”

Pretty? Uncommonly so? Eliza wasn’t aware of any such thing. Everyone knew Philippa was the beauty of the family.

She ducked her head, hoping to conceal her blush.

“I assure you,” she managed. “That’s not it at all. The reason I’m not out is because…”

Because her father had predicted this very situation.

Lord knows, we can’t permit Eliza in company. Trouble-prone thing. Within a fortnight of her debut, she’ll have herself entangled in some mischief and take the rest of them down with her. Then we’d never marry any of them off.

And he’d been right, it would seem. She wasn’t even out, and look at the muddle she’d stepped in.

She cast a beseeching look at the door latch. “Mr. Wright, please. Won’t you let me leave?”

He didn’t answer. Not with words. He simply turned the key in the door lock, removed it, and stashed it away in his waistcoat pocket.

She was trapped.

“Why would you do that?” she asked, staring at the locked door.

“Because you don’t want to go.” His voice was darkly sweet and so forbidden, like rum. “You want to stay here with me a little longer.”

Why would he presume to think that? As she studied his face, she swallowed hard.

The devil must be very handsome,
her nursemaid had once told her.
Else no one would follow him into perdition.

Too true, too true. She saw it for herself now. The devil had a strong, squared jaw, a straight nose, and full lips with a dangerous, sensual quirk. Dark, wavy hair, as untamable as his spirit. Laughing eyes, green as a Cornish summer. Oh, yes. The devil was handsome indeed.

But it wasn’t just that.

The devil also looked weary. Fatigued by the world—and strangely vulnerable, this close. The devil put silver threads in his sin-black hair. Just a few, so a girl could only see them if she happened to draw imprudently near. He wore his cravat mussed, tempting feminine hands to put it straight.

Eliza’s nursemaid had it all wrong. The devil didn’t entice with perfection. He seduced with flaws.

His green, hungry gaze didn’t say,
Follow me into perdition.

It said,
Only you can save me from it.

Her skin went hot and tight, and she felt ready to burst free. Ready to become some entirely new creature. One with wings, so she might fly out the window and escape.

“Please. I must leave this room.”

“But you don’t want to,” he repeated.

“You’re wrong,” she insisted. “I don’t know what sort of impression you’ve formed of me, Mr. Wright. But you’re entirely wrong. Perhaps I
am
frustrated with my seclusion. Perhaps I
am
envious of my sisters, yearning for my own turn to dance and flirt and go driving in the park with gentlemen. Perhaps you’ve caught me in a defenseless moment—one where I’m ready for a bit of excitement all my own. You’re obviously a handsome man, and I can’t deny it’s a little thrilling when you look at me that way.”

“Only a little thrilling?” he teased. “I must be off my game. What if I look at you
this
way?”

He glanced aside for a moment, and then back at her—fixing her with an intent, smoldering, knee-melting look. A look that blazed with all the fire and heat of candelabras in velvet-swathed boudoirs, and torches in hidden passageways, and bonfires that were bold tongues of orange against deep, boundless desert nights.

The room began to spin.

His expression relaxed, and he gave a low chuckle. “That’s more like it.”

“I don’t want this,” she whispered, trying to convince herself, if she couldn’t move him. “I truly don’t want a flirtation. I don’t want to be seduced. I don’t want to be in this room with you one moment longer. And if you won’t release me, I…I’ll—”

Desperate, she reached forward and thrust her hand into his waistcoat pocket, fumbling for the key.

“Why, Miss Eliza
Cade
.”

He clapped his hand over hers, flattening her palm against his ribs. The maleness and solidity of him were shocking. Intriguing.

She pulled against his grip. “You despicable knave.”

He laughed at her distress. “You brazen jezebel.”

“Let me have that key. I want to leave this room, this instant.”

“No. You truly don’t.”

He kept saying that with such certainty.

God help her, maybe—just maybe—he was right.

Eliza wished with all her heart that this could be over. But a small, wild part of her body was hoping it wouldn’t end. She’d never been this close to a man, and she likely wouldn’t be again—not for years. Mr. Wright was dangerous and intriguing. He made her feel uncommonly pretty. He smelled so very good. This might not be a ballroom waltz or a drive in Hyde Park, but it was
life
. Dizzying, heart-pounding, exhilarating life.

She’d been craving this down to her bones.

And he knew it.

“They don’t understand, do they?” he murmured. “They don’t understand it’s a dangerous thing, to keep a wild creature caged.”

She shook her head. No, they didn’t understand her at all.

When she opened her mouth to speak, he shushed her with his fingertips. Her hand remained trapped in his waistcoat pocket—sandwiched between the taut strength of his chest and the warm press of his ungloved hand. Beneath her palm, she felt a new thread of tension drawing through his body.

Good heavens. How had it come to this? His touch was on her
lips
. She was feeling his
body
.

He traced her lips with his thumb and leaned close.

“Oh, dear,” she breathed. “You’re going to kiss me now, aren’t you?”

It seemed inevitable. A matter of destiny. Eliza felt sapped of her last drops of resistance—and she felt very disloyal to poor, unmanned Peter Everhart.

But Mr. Wright didn’t press his lips to hers. Instead, he abruptly pressed his ear to the door and listened hard.

“What—?”

His thumb tapped against her mouth, and he raised his eyebrows meaningfully.
Not a sound.

Eliza pressed her own ear to the door. Soon, she heard it, too. Footsteps, coming down the corridor. She sucked in her breath.

The footfalls drew to halt just outside the room.

The door latch rattled. Once, then again.

“Harry?” A sultry, feminine voice slid between the door panels. “Harry, it’s me.”

Harry?

Eliza looked to him. Her stomach lurched as the truth of the scene became clear. He hadn’t been napping in this room. He’d been waiting for someone. A lover.

The shameless rogue.

An impatient knock sounded at the door. “Harry, are you in there? I brought champagne.”

His chest rose and fell in a noiseless sigh. But he didn’t answer.

After long moments, soft footsteps carried the disappointed lover away. Leaving the two of them to stare at each other.

“I told you,” he said. “You didn’t want to leave just yet.”

Eliza drew a slow breath. If she’d exited the room a few moments earlier, she would have crossed paths with his lover. She would have been seen fleeing a private encounter with London’s most infamous rake.

He stroked his thumb over the back of her trapped hand. “And no,” he said. “I didn’t plan to kiss you. Not just then. You’re rather young and…unfinished…for my tastes.”

She wrenched her hand away, feeling the sting of humiliation.

“You
scoundrel,”
she whispered hotly. “You planned an illicit assignation in my family’s morning room?”

He shrugged and ambled a few paces to the table where he’d left his drink. “Handy thing about morning rooms. They’re vacant in the evenings. Usually.”

“That’s revolting.”

“Not the way I do it.” He smiled. “I promise, it’s quite nice. Nothing like snails.”

“I’ll never sit on that sofa again.” She shuddered. “I should expose you and your debauchery.”

“Brilliant idea. Expose my debauchery, to the shock of”—he glanced at the empty room—“no one. And expose yourself to the scathing gossip of the
ton
. Silence is the better choice here, my dear.” He tipped his drink.

She hated admitting he was right. No one could ever hear of this—not even Georgie. She could only pray that he never related the tale.

He fished the key from his waistcoat pocket. “It’s yours now.”

She snatched the slender bit of metal from his grip.

“You’re welcome,” he said.

You’re welcome?
The nerve of the man. “You expect me to thank you? For holding me against my will and subjecting me to cruel humiliation?”

“No,” he said. “You can thank me for saving you from a fate far worse. Do you not understand what just transpired? I sacrificed a bubbly, sensual delight—
and
a bottle of champagne—on your account. My evening is ruined. Your reputation is not.” He affected a gallant bow. “You’re welcome.”

Perhaps by forgoing his sordid tryst, Mr. Wright
had
preserved her reputation. However, he’d also saved himself a great deal of trouble. The inconvenience of facing an irate mistress tonight, or flashing pistols with her father at dawn.

She wouldn’t believe for a moment his motives were selfless.

“Don’t fancy yourself a hero.” Her voice and fingers shook as she fit the key in the lock and turned it. “You would not have been in this room at all if you weren’t the most appalling, detestable sort of man.”

He deflected all her insults with a single arched brow. “And you would not be here either, were you not the most intractable sort of young lady. But I’m not holding that against you.”

By the time she had the lock turned, he’d made his way to her side again. This time, he pulled open the door and held it for her. As a proper gentleman would.

He said, “It’s not so bad, you know.”

Just walk on. Ignore him. He’s only teasing, baiting—hoping you’ll ask.

“What isn’t?” she asked.

Eliza, you fool.

“Being us.”

“Us? I can’t imagine what you mean.”

He tamed a stray wisp of her hair. “I mean there are two kinds of people in this world, Eliza. Those who are good, and those who are interesting. You’re young yet, but you’ll see in time. It’s not so bad being on this side.”

“We are not on the same side of anything.” She strode through the entry, turned, and shut the door in his handsome, devilish face. “Not anymore.”

June 2, 1811

My dear Philippa,

I’m afraid we can’t make it to Town this year, given my condition. Won’t you visit us in Norfolk once the season ends? My sister-in-law, Caroline, would be most glad of the company, and Sir Roland’s estate is lovely in full summer. There are Roman ruins nearby. I think you’ll find the environs amenable to your favorite pastimes of wandering and daydreaming.