The Wedding Season Read online

  Mr. Lindsey? Why, Elizabeth could just picture Jamie’s machinations here. Had he not promised some mischief with his silly wave and impish eyes as she was leaving home? But where would they have found the costume? This was no mere homespun disguise.

  She started to rise and make herself visible, but caution kept her seated, even as curiosity kept her eyes upon him. With an elegant turn, he surveyed his “kingdom,” and when he fully faced her, he stopped. A slight nod, like Mr. Lindsey’s? A hesitant step in her direction. Then a firm march.

  Elizabeth’s heart leapt and her pulse raced. She stood and curtsied.

  His bow nearly toppled his wig, but with an artful hand he caught and righted it. Wordlessly, he reached out, and she placed her gloved hand in his, receiving upon it a kiss through the metallic gold mask. He gestured toward the wide terrace, and she permitted him to lead her through the crowd and across the tiled surface.

  “Your Majesty.” She tried to disguise her voice with a French accent, but chose not to speak that language in case Mr. Lindsey had not learned it. “How nice of you to visit our humble soiree.”

  He answered with a gracious nod and continued their journey. As they wended toward the south corner, a slight misgiving came over Elizabeth. She stopped.

  “Your Majesty, where are you taking me?”

  He placed a gloved hand over his heart and the other against his forehead, palm out, as if hurt by the question.

  “We will not leave the lanterns or the sight of other people?”

  He shook his head.

  “Très bien.” No, not quite “very good,” but what could happen on the lighted terrace with other people around? She took his offered arm once again.

  The back corner was darker than she’d expected, for several of the Chinese lanterns were unlit. But still, other people stood some small distance away. They stopped at the terrace’s concrete banister, another safeguard, for if this proved to be no gentleman, he could not drag her into the nearby darkness. She laughed aloud at such imagining, brought on no doubt by all the costumes and hidden identities.

  He tilted his head in question.

  “I was just amused by my own foolishness.” She gazed up at him, almost losing her hair in the process. “My goodness, how did our ancestors manage with these dreadful wigs?”

  He chuckled in response, and a shiver ran down her spine. Rather than the deep baritone of Mr. Lindsey, it was Lord Chiselton’s tenor.

  “Oh.” She stamped her foot, more frustrated with herself than angry with him. “You are quite the trickster, my lord. Mark Antony, indeed.”

  Now he laughed in earnest. Removing his golden mask, he snickered. “And when you did not find me in that role, did you despair?”

  “Not in the least.” Removing her mask, she turned to leave.

  “Wait.” He touched her arm. “Do not abandon me.” His woeful tone stopped her. “Did I not say I have a question to ask you?”

  Facing him, she offered the kindest of smiles. “Yes, Lord Chiselton, you did. But what you did not do was speak to my father first.”

  He blinked and gaped, a study in surprise. “Why, Miss Elizabeth, why ever would I wish to speak to your father?”

  Now she blinked and gaped but only for an instant before realization struck her. “Clearly, I made an error.” She once again turned to leave, but he wrapped one arm around her waist. She gasped. “You must let me go, my lord.” Why had she ever thought this self-centered popinjay could make her happy?

  He tugged her close and bent forward. “But will you not kiss me first? Those lovely pink lips—”

  “And that was the question you wished to ask? You wanted to kiss me?” And no doubt, much more. This man, this peer of the Realm, had nothing but dishonorable intentions toward her. She, a respectable lady and the daughter of a British naval hero.

  Tears stung her eyes as she struggled against his tight grip. He was nothing but a rake and she a silly girl who should have known better. What a harsh truth to discover that a man could possess a noble rank and yet be utterly devoid of a noble nature.

  “Release me.”

  His chuckle was anything but pleasant. “But, my dear, I am the Sun King. By divine right, I own the world and everything…and everyone in it.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Unhand her, sir.” Philip gripped the hilt of his sword, more to steady himself than to threaten the overdressed golden peacock holding Miss Elizabeth to his chest in such an inappropriate manner. The way she leaned away from him and the alarm written across her beautiful face generated anger such as he hadn’t felt since learning of Whitson’s betrayal. But now, as then, he must control his rage or do irreparable damage.

  The brigand turned and revealed his identity, but Philip experienced neither surprise nor alarm. From what he’d seen of Chiselton, his misuse of a lady was perfectly in character.

  The scoundrel raked him up and down with a venomous look. “Ah, so the common highwayman hopes to rob the Sun King of his prey.”

  “This is hardly a game, Chiselton.” Philip glanced over his shoulder for support, but Jamie was nowhere to be seen. Removing his mask, he turned back. “Unhand her. Now.”

  “Mr. Lindsey.” Miss Elizabeth’s plaintive tone both gladdened and strengthened him. “You came, after all.” She shrugged away from Chiselton and moved around him toward Philip.

  “I say.” Chiselton’s vicious sneer as he watched her unmasked his true nature. He possessed not the slightest degree of respect for her. “Do not presume to give me orders. Do you have any idea of how completely I can ruin you?”

  Philip moved between the man and Miss Elizabeth. “Ruin me, then, Chiselton. But you will do no harm to this good lady.” He offered her his arm. “Shall we find your Aunt Bennington, Miss Elizabeth? She’ll want to know what mischief her nephew has been up to.”

  “Oh, yes.” She gripped his forearm as if it were a life-line.

  “Lindsey!” The threat in Chiselton’s tone could not be missed.

  Philip wanted to walk away. Should walk away. But somehow found himself facing the viscount again.

  “My aunt will not believe you. And what does it signify if she does?” He waved his hand in a careless gesture. “Miss Elizabeth has always desired my attentions, have you not, my dear? I was merely granting her wishes.”

  Miss Elizabeth gasped and swayed, which gave Philip something to do rather than strike the viscount. He steadied the lady, breathed out a hot, angry breath and led her toward nearby French doors. A footman opened them, and they entered the crowded parlor.

  Miss Elizabeth leaned against him, and he feared she’d faint. But even in the dim candlelit room, he could see that her flushed face reflected anything but faintheartedness.

  “Are you well, Miss Elizabeth?”

  “I am now.” She straightened and exhaled crossly. “Very well and angry as a Fury.”

  Her blazing blue eyes and the prim set of her lips confirmed her recovery. “That’s the spirit.” What admirable courage this lady possessed! “Shall I escort you to Lady Bennington?”

  She gazed up at him, and her charming dimple appeared at the corner of her smile, lifting Philip’s heart. “I thank you, Mr. Lindsey, but what Lord Chiselton said is true. Aunt Bennington would never believe him capable of anything but the most proper behavior.” Her smile disappeared as she released a wistful sigh, all fire gone.

  “But you are a lady and her niece. Would she not—?”

  “Her niece by marriage. He is her own blood, her late sister’s son.” She gave a little shrug. “And, of course, he is a peer. His word would likely be taken over anyone else’s.”

  “Lord Bennington, then? As your father’s brother—?”

  Again, she demurred. “Uncle Bennington has enough to manage with my cousin Sophia’s debacle.” She cast an apologetic glance at him. “And no matter how well-connected my father may be, I fear Lord Chiselton would win any suit.”

  “I have observed that inequity.” Philip c
lenched his jaw. “Well, then, please permit me to escort you to some safe company in this immense house.”

  She shook her head, and her wig swayed. “Perhaps I should retire for the evening.”

  He read the weariness in her eyes. “Very well. But I’ll escort you to someone who can accompany you.”

  “I say.” Jamie bounded up to them, an amber drink in hand. “Where’ve you been, old boy? Why, Beth, there you are. Somehow I knew you two would find each other.”

  “Jamie!” Again, Miss Elizabeth’s cheeks flushed with color, and Philip felt warmth returning to his own face.

  “So, what’ve you two been up to?” Jamie took a sip of his drink, wrinkled his nose and set the glass on a nearby table. Although liquid sloshed onto the table, this time Philip wouldn’t clean up after him. “Beastly stuff, that.”

  “Just so.” Philip again offered his arm to Miss Elizabeth. “May I take you to a friend?” She set a hand on his sleeve.

  “What?” Jamie eyed them both.

  To her credit, Miss Elizabeth didn’t decline to answer, but gave her brother a brief account of Chiselton’s actions.

  “I say.” Jamie posted fists at his waist and frowned. “Shall I call him out then?”

  Philip sucked in his cheeks to avoid laughing in shock at the lad’s admirable but foolish offer.

  “And ruin all your prospects?” Miss Elizabeth shook her head, and all joy left her face. “No, brother dear. I shall avoid him at all costs.” Her forehead wrinkled. “And I shall return home early tomorrow long before he has slept off his…merriment.”

  With Jamie’s assistance, they found Miss Prudence, who was just bidding Mr. Smythe-Wyndham adieu. After pleasantries all around, including an invitation from the vicar for Philip to visit the parsonage, the clergyman and the ladies said their goodnights and retired in their respective directions.

  Philip watched Miss Elizabeth ascend the front staircase with a mixture of sorrow and relief. Although her posture conveyed a degree of melancholy, she hadn’t been harmed physically.

  Like Jamie, Philip very much desired to call out Chiselton. But for him to do so would further impugn the lady’s character. And his feelings for the lady would not permit him to cause her even the lightest distress. He could deny it no longer—he loved her. And while it had not been in his plans to seek a wife at this point in his life, surely this match had the Lord’s blessing. Otherwise, why would he have felt compelled to do something so rash and uncharacteristic as to barge into this party uninvited? Why, for no other reason than to save her from that beast. Yes, the Lord’s hand was at work in their relationship, and that gave Philip considerable consolation over having to leave her here.

  Elizabeth trudged up the first flight behind Pru, fully aware that Mr. Lindsey was watching. But she could not improve her posture or her mood, nor turn and join Pru in waving to him from the top step.

  On the second floor, they made their way to their bedchamber where Ginny welcomed them, cooing pleasantries. With costumes removed, nightrails on and hair brushed and braided, they bid their lady’s maid good night, sending her off for a bit of fun with the other servants. At the door, Elizabeth called her back.

  “Yes, miss?”

  “Do avoid the guests.” Elizabeth gave her a meaningful stare. “The male guests, I mean.”

  Ginny’s eyes widened. “Yes, miss.” She bit her lip and frowned. “Never have to worry about that at Captain Moberly’s house, now do I? Thank the good Lord.” She spun around and hurried toward the back stairs.

  Truly weary at last, Elizabeth let her eyes fill. “Yes, thank the good Lord,” she whispered. For surely God had sent Mr. Lindsey just in time to stop Lord Chiselton from whatever mischief he had in mind.

  Elizabeth related her sad tale to her cousin, who was a dear for not saying, “I told you so.” But Pru did rise and bolt the door before surrendering to sleep.

  Tired though she was, Elizabeth did not find rest. While tonight had taught her much, it also confounded her. From the first, she had tried to find Mr. Lindsey inferior to Lord Chiselton in both manner and character, but had been unable to do so. And tonight had proven beyond a doubt who was the better man. Even before their last encounter, she had felt uneasy with Lord Chiselton, the man she had once hoped to wed.

  And yet now it was the noble Mr. Lindsey whom she would gladly marry, should he but ask.

  Chapter Seventeen

  On the second day after his intrusion into Bennington’s masquerade, Philip accepted the captain’s invitation to inspect the vast Moberly grounds. Early on, they rode in silence, watching as sunrise lifted the misty shroud from the land to reveal its hidden beauties. A myriad of familiar smells filled his senses: mown grass, wildflowers and fresh morning air, all of which imparted to him an invigorating energy.

  This country manor was much like his own property, with rich farmlands, lush woodlands and a quaint village at the outskirts. Flocks of sheep grazed in the verdant fields, while playful otters plagued the snowy swans floating serenely on the ponds. Wild hares scurried about the apple orchard searching for fruit fallen before its time. A blue-coated nuthatch seized an acorn from beneath a giant oak tree and dashed away with its prize. Bees and common blue butterflies sipped the nectar of wildflowers. Even the gray stone ruins of an ancient castle reminded him of his beloved home.

  At a pond in the glade, a pair of fallow deer trotted to safety. A wide-racked stag paused to stand guard until his doe disappeared into the thick brush. Philip felt a kinship with the creature, for he longed to stand guard until assured of Miss Elizabeth’s safety.

  These past few days, first being denied her company and then rescuing her from Chiselton, confirmed to him how much he regarded—no, loved—her. If he were certain of her feelings for him, he’d speak to the captain now. But should she not return his affections, they’d all be uncomfortable until Whitson was dealt with. For now, he must keep his sentiments to himself. But he must also devise a plan to present to Captain Moberly of how he would care for a wife.

  They paused at the summit of a small hill from whence they could view the upper floors of distant Devon Hall. The fog, which lay across the lower landscape like a snowy carpet, receded beneath the rising sun.

  “Seen enough?” Reaching down to pat the neck of his bay mare, Captain Moberly eyed Philip.

  “Not really, sir. Your grounds are magnificent. I could stay out here all day.” Still, his heartbeat increased at the prospect of returning to the hall and seeing his lady, or so he had come to think of her.

  The captain, however, seemed in no hurry to return home, and Philip began to feel ill at ease. So far, the Chiselton incident hadn’t come up in general conversation, and he was confounded as to how to introduce the subject to his host.

  Yesterday morning, when the young ladies had returned home, the household had rejoiced in being complete again. The children had demanded a full accounting of the events, which, of course, could not be granted. But one would have never known anything was amiss from the way Miss Elizabeth and Miss Prudence had recounted the various games and diversions they had enjoyed. With the children satisfied they’d learned everything important, they had traipsed off with their governess to their lessons. In the evening, when the family had gathered in the drawing room, no one would’ve guessed anything had disturbed their normal routine.

  As they descended the hill, the captain guided his horse closer to Philip’s. “You must tell me about Chiselton.”

  The question startled him. “Sir?”

  “Come now, man, do you think Jamie could keep quiet about it?” Moberly scowled. “I had no idea you two rode over to the masquerade nor that there was an unpleasant incident. My son was thoroughly enraged but said you kept him from doing something hotheaded. I want to hear your account of it.”

  The air went out of Philip’s lungs, and he had to pull in a deep breath before responding.

  “Nothing much to tell on my part, sir.” He sent up a quick prayer he would say t
he right thing. “Jamie and I put together some costumes and—”

  “Jamie talked you into going.”

  “Yes, sir.” Philip gave him a sheepish grin. “Upon arrival, we parted company, and I happened to recognize Miss Elizabeth, even though she was masked, for I’d seen her costume before she left. She was talking with a rather ornately garbed man.” He refrained from referring to Chiselton as a gentleman. “This fellow led his reluctant prey to a dark corner and tried to force a kiss upon her.” Or something worse. “When she protested, he wouldn’t release her. I insisted he must. He was not pleased.”

  They rode in silence for a short distance. At last Moberly spoke, his voice thick. “Permit a father to express his deepest gratitude. No material treasure would be sufficient to repay you.” The hint of despair in his tone struck Philip with sorrow. Even a heroic naval captain who’d protected British interests around the world couldn’t protect his daughter from a devious peer with evil intent.

  “Sir, you have befriended me in my distress and made me a guest in your home these many days. If there is payment to be made, it is I who should make it to you.”

  Moberly nodded his appreciation. “I will speak to my brother about this incident, but I cannot expect too much. Chiselton is a fool, but he has wealth and influence. Of course I will not permit my children to go to Bennington Manor while he remains there.”

  Philip could see the anger smoldering in the captain’s eyes. How hard it must be to hear of the assault on his daughter and not be able to challenge the perpetrator. Were he not a Christian, Philip would ride over to Bennington Manor this very day and settle the matter.

  But where would that leave Lucy? He must use good sense, no matter how hard it was to postpone his revenge on both Chiselton and Whitson. And, indeed, when the time was right, he would find some way to avenge Miss Elizabeth’s affront without harming her reputation, just as he would deal with his sister’s betrayer.

  The morning after Elizabeth and Pru returned home from Bennington Manor, they joined Mr. Lindsey and Jamie on the east lawn for a game of paille maille. With Mr. Lindsey new to the little-known game, Elizabeth and Jamie demonstrated how to play with the wooden ball and mallet. Each one hit a ball down the mown grass alley in an attempt to send it beneath a small iron arch. And each one proved how out of practice they were, to the good humor and merriment of all.