Already His (The Caversham Chronicles - Book Two) Read online

  Even if the gentleman in question was a stubborn dunderhead.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Elise felt as though her head had been split in two by a woodsman’s ax. Burying her face beneath her pillow to keep the sunlight from penetrating her eyelids, she tried one more time to summon the energy to rise from her bed. The day had to be well on toward noon, and still she couldn’t bring herself to face her family. By now Michael would have come to have breakfast with her brother as was his habit on days when they worked. With the quiet mood she’d been in when they arrived home, Ren was likely to ask her questions. And if her responses didn’t match her grandmother, Beverly, and Michael’s responses, there would be even more questions and then another lecture on her behavior.

  It was too much to deal with right then. Her eyes felt swollen and her nose was surely reddened from all the indelicate and unladylike blowing she’d done overnight. Unless she desired to be frightened, she dared not look into a mirror.

  She heard the door whisper open and soft footsteps move about the room. It was likely her maid. The footsteps neared the bed and backed away. Elise was sure Bridget thought her still sleeping. She just wanted to be alone so she could figure out how best to proceed with the inevitable line of questioning, so she feigned an unconscious state hoping her maid would leave the room.

  “I know yer not sleepin’,” Bridget said.

  Elise grumbled under the pillow.

  “How do I know, ye ask?”

  “Mmmm.”

  “Because there’s two more kerchiefs on the floor. And I picked up the last half dozen before I left here an hour ago.” The maid huffed. “I wonder if there are any left in the drawer.”

  Elise threw the pillow off her head and shielded her eyes from the light. “Is it possible to get some peace, quiet and dark?”

  Bridget understood and closed the curtains. “The best thing for that headache of yours is to drink some tea and put a compress on yer head.”

  “It’s not what you think. I may have caught a head cold.”

  “As ye say,” Bridget fluffed Elise’s pillows behind her back and folded her bed covers to her waist.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea to go downstairs. I wouldn’t want to risk giving it to anyone.”

  “As ye wish.” The maid repeated as she handed Elise a bed robe.

  “Oh, you think you know it all, don’t you! I have a head cold. Really, I do!”

  “You don’t have to convince me,” Bridget went into the dressing room, then returned with a folded wet hand towel. Handing Elise the cool rag, Bridget then brought her a cup of tea and set it on the table next to the bed.

  “If you so much as hint at anything other than my having a head cold belowstairs, you’ll be sending us both back to Haldenwood. Because if my brother learns the real reason for my distress he’ll send me back there, and you’re coming with me!”

  “Humph! That might be preferable to watching ye make a fool of yourself over his lordship. So long as ye don’t bring shame down on the family, I’ll hold my tongue. My loyalty is to His Grace and His Duchess.”

  “I am not making a fool of myself over Michael. He....” Elise caught herself and for once, held her tongue. “Oh, never mind.” She placed the compress over her eyes and for the first time since she’d climbed into bed in the wee hours of the morning, she didn’t want to cry.

  She wanted to vent her burgeoning anger now. But the maid wasn’t the one deserving of her wrath. That was reserved for a certain peer of the realm, a man who’d admitted he was attracted to her but regarded his relationship with her brother as more worthy of allegiance than exploring the possibility of a romance with her.

  No wonder she felt ill. In the matter of minutes, he had raised her hopes by admitting he had feelings for her, then squashed them by telling her nothing could come of it.

  Men were a confusing lot. Wherever did they come up with the idea that women were fickle? She’d never wavered about anything in her life. In fact she was the most decisive person she knew.

  Her head really did hurt and she decided it would do her good to spend the day in bed. Telling Bridget she would see no visitors today lest they catch her cold, Elise dismissed her.

  Minutes later, Beverly entered. “I’m not afraid of a head cold.” She sat on the edge of the bed, studying Elise’s features. “You look horrid. I’m available should you wish to talk about it.”

  “It’ll do no good,” Elise replied. After ascertaining there were no others in the room she continued, “Talking about it won’t change my situation.” She plopped back onto her pillows and replaced the compress to her puffy eyes.

  “I saw the two of you disappear onto the balcony last night, and when you returned you had a saddened look about you. I don’t think anyone else noticed, but no one else knows you as I do. And Michael seemed distant, yet watchful the rest of the night.”

  If her friend saw her disappear and Michael follow her, then others might have as well. So Elise told Beverly everything—from the kiss at the Everly’s to the conversation at the Holderman’s. “He admitted to feeling something for me, but because of his devotion to my brother, he’s unwilling to pursue it further.” Tears began anew. “Ugh!” She swiped at the drops rolling down her cheeks. “I hate crying. It makes my head hurt.”

  “Me, too,” her friend sympathized.

  Elise dropped her head back onto her pillows. “I have to give up any dream of a match with the man I’ve loved forever.”

  “No.” Beverly said as she shook her head. “What we need is another plan. He can try to fool himself into thinking there is nothing between you, but I have seen how he looks at you.”

  Elise wanted with all her heart to believe her, but she was the one he’d rejected last night. Not Beverly. Even now Elise heard the words as clearly as if he were right there repeating them in her ear.

  I will have to deny myself—and you as well—for my devotion and promise to your brother must take precedent over what I’ve come to feel for you.

  “It won’t work,” Elise said, tears clouding her vision. “His resolve is firm.”

  “Not so firm that he’s oblivious to you. You cannot see what I do because it’s your heart that’s involved. But I see the way he watches over you. He’s not indifferent to you! Elise,” she whispered in case someone entered. “He kissed you! And that is not indifference!” Beverly stood and patted Elise’s hand. “I’ll come up with something. The first plan brought us this far. He’s noticed you and admits to having feelings for you. Now we have to bring him to heel.”

  Elise removed the wet compress and stared into Beverly’s eyes. “He won’t allow himself to fall in love with me. Don’t you understand?”

  “We’ll just have to see about that,” her friend said. “Now, I have to go to my house with Mrs. Steen and supervise preparations for Papa’s arrival Friday. By the time I return, I will have come up with a strategy for landing your lord. Meanwhile you rest and try not to worry overmuch. Everything will work out. You’ll see.”

  After Beverly left, Elise spent the entire day moping about her rooms. She read from a book of poetry that had her in tears nearly every other page. Lia came to visit and Elise had successfully convinced her sister-in-law that she might be safer keeping some distance as she didn’t want to give Lia her head-cold. After her luncheon tray was removed, her grandmother came to visit, but wasn’t buying her tale.

  “A lady should be careful not to spend too much time out on the balcony after dancing,” her grandmother warned. “One never knows what they might catch. It could be a head cold or...,” her grandmother sat next her and put a wrinkled and weathered hand on hers. “My guess is it’s a broken heart.”

  Elise almost cried because her grandmother’s voice was so full of concern for her.

  She shook her head. “Truly, I have a case of the sniffles.”

  “Well,” her grandmother said, “when you get over your sniffles you should see to making Camden jealous. That tactic wo
rks practically every time, you know. It was how I landed Sewell after your grandfather passed away.” Elise looked at her grandmother with surprise tempered with skepticism. “What was I supposed to do? I was still a young woman who wanted affection in my life and he was a handsome man who stimulated my brain—” She had a far-away look on her face as she smiled, as though remembering her love. “—As well as other parts of me.”

  Elise wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “As I told Beverly, it will do no good. His loyalty is to Ren. He also mentioned a promise, which evidently plays a part in his decision.”

  Her grandmother stood and leaned on her cane. “Think about what I said, my dear. Camden could use to be put in his place by the threat of someone who might be a serious competitor for your hand, not some spineless namby-pamby.”

  Elise stood and wanted to hug her grandmother and give her a kiss for understanding, but the older woman backed away. “Just in case you do have a cold, I shouldn’t want to catch it you know. I’ve decided to go to the theater tonight with Louisa, Eugenia and Herbert.”

  Later that evening, Beverly came into her room as the upstairs maid removed her tray.

  When the door was shut, Beverly burst out, “I have it! I have been thinking about this all afternoon.”

  “What do you have?”

  “Plan B!”

  “Whatever it is, it won’t work, I tell you,” Elise said. “While you were gone, my grandmother came to visit and thinks I should try making him jealous.”

  “Your grandmother and I are of one mind because I came up with the exact same idea.” Beverly poured herself a glass of water and drank. “And I’m certain it will work, but if you don’t really want Michael to....”

  Curiosity got the better of Elise. “Let me hear what it is before I agree to anything.”

  “Well, first you need to spend a few days recovering from your ‘illness.’ After all, as they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

  Then, Elise’s dearest friend in the world, laid out a battle plan so brilliant as to make Napoleon himself envious.

  Two days later Elise was still “unavailable” for visitors. Word of her illness spread and became exaggerated among their set—an unexpected result of her temporary isolation. Notes wishing her well and bouquets of flowers now decorated her chamber, as well as the various receiving rooms below stairs.

  On the third day, Ren sent a message asking if he needed to call in Prescott to see her. She told him thank you, but no. She’d already begun to feel better and perhaps might be well enough in the morning to meet the family for breakfast. Hopefully by then she would have firmed her resolve to follow through with their scheme. Because her heart still wanted the man it has always desired.

  Michael began to get concerned over Elise’s continued hermitage, even wondering if she was truly ill. By the third morning, he was ready to demand to see for himself if she was indeed recovering from some serious malady. He’d almost been tempted to reveal to Ren his suspicions about her ‘illness,’ but to do so would bring questions about his own sentiments, and he hadn’t had the opportunity yet to broach this subject with his friend.

  No, that wasn’t quite right. If he were honest with himself, he’d admit he hadn’t worked up the courage to broach the subject, unsure what his friend’s response would be.

  When he entered the dining room on that fourth morning of her reputed illness, he nodded to Ren, and was relieved to see Elise sitting across the table from Lia with Beverly seated to her right. “Good morning, all.” He poured himself a coffee, took a seat next to the duchess, and motioned to the footman that he did not desire a place setting. “I see the patient has recovered. We’d begun to miss your cheery presence.”

  “Thank you for your concern, my lord,” Elise replied. “I much appreciated your note and flowers. As you can see I am well recuperated and ready to continue my usual activities.”

  From anyone but Elise, he would have believed in the earnestness of her words. But for some reason he felt he should be skeptical. She was never this polite to him, especially this early in the morning. Michael didn’t see Lady Sewell at the table and inquired as to her health.

  “Grandmother has taken breakfast in her rooms already,” Elise said, “as she has plans with friends this afternoon.”

  “As I was telling everyone before you arrived, my lord,” said Lia, “I must attend the Eggleston’s ball this evening.” The duchess resumed cutting her breakfast ham. “Clarissa Eggleston is a dear friend of mine and I would like to show my support for her daughter’s entrée.”

  “As you wish, Your Grace.” Michael looked over at the two misses across from him, and asked, “Will you two be going as well?”

  Beverly looked from Elise to Michael. “We haven’t decided yet. I’d hoped to go to the theater. A new play is opening tonight, and Elise and I have been invited.”

  Elise nodded. “Yes, I’d like to see it as well, as I’ve had enough of balls for now. I find the crowds of people and the resulting over-warm ballrooms hold no appeal for me.” She met his gaze. “And worse yet, when a lady attempts to revive herself with fresh air on the balcony she’s met with all manner of scoundrels.”

  The little minx! She’d just called him a scoundrel. Michael only hoped her brother didn’t speculate about whom she spoke. He didn’t like the idea of Elise attending a function without him being present. He felt the need to stand guard, but if they were properly escorted and chaperoned, he couldn’t very well invite himself along.

  His Grace lowered the Morning Post and asked, “With whom will you be attending?”

  “Viscount Huddleston and his friend, Captain Wilson,” Elise replied. “We danced with them at the Holderman’s before I became ill. Afterward, our conversation was very engaging. They sent us an invitation to the theater, and we accepted. Both gentlemen seem very sincere and honorable.”

  Michael lifted a brow in question. “Isn’t Huddleston older than we are? And what about this friend of his, do we know him?”

  “Christopher is a year or two older, I believe you’re right,” Ren replied. “And his friend Captain Wilson is Reginald Wilson. One of the younger sons of Baron Wilson of Parham. Decent chaps, both. Like us, they’ve been friends forever. I don’t recall ever hearing anything negative about either man. I believe Grandmother is friends with Wilson’s mother.”

  “Good,” Elise surmised, “You’ll not object, then?”

  Michael watched as Ren shook his head, then said, “I don’t think so. Who will be your chaperon?”

  “Captain Wilson’s widowed sister, Mrs. Anne Leonard,” Elise said.

  Michael knew the woman. A bluestocking with pet projects that mirrored Elise’s, she’d fit right in with Elise and Beverly who champion educating the poor. There was nothing dubious about the lady’s reputation, thus he couldn’t dispute her chaperonage in any way.

  His Grace looked at his sister, “Yes. Well, I only ask that you come home after the theater, and not follow the crowds to the various parties afterward. Nothing good happens at that time of night.”

  Both girls nodded, and turned to smile at each other, and Elise said, “Thank you, brother.”

  Ren nodded and Michael couldn’t help but think that Elise had something up her sleeve. She almost always did. And this felt too suspicious for her not to be planning or plotting something.

  “Yes, thank you, Your Grace,” Beverly said. “What about you, Lord Camden?”

  Michael set his cup down on the saucer. “I haven’t decided yet. I may spend the evening at home for once catching up on paperwork. You wouldn’t know that I’m in mourning to see the pile of invitations sitting on my desk. Too, I find myself weary of the constant social whirl. If it isn’t one event, it’s another.”

  “I quite agree,” Elise replied. “Why it’s amazing you men get anything done at all this time of year.”

  Her subtle imputations were not lost on him. Also, he knew exactly why she chose to accept that invitation to the thea
ter from Huddleston. It was to make the point to him that her brother would not be disagreeable to a friend of his, and a man of similar age, marrying his sister. She was systematically invalidating each one of his rationales.

  Elise chattered on while stirring her chocolate. “I also think it was that whirlwind of social activity that contributed to my catching that horrible head cold.”

  “No doubt,” Michael droned with affected boredom before casually taking another sip of his coffee.

  “The things we must endure to fulfill our duties and obligations to our status,” Elise declared. “I swear I am already thoroughly exhausted of the season and we are only a month in. Already I cannot wait to return to Haldenwood and my horses.” When she finished her chocolate, she set her cup down and excused herself, and Beverly soon followed.

  It took him only minutes, but Michael understood her game now. The little vixen. She knew he has an affection for her, and she thought to make him jealous.

  “Ha! Jealous?” Michael whispered as he took the ribbons of his team and cued them into traffic. “I’ve never been jealous of anyone.”

  Until now the voice in his head told him.

  “That went rather well,” Elise noted upon returning to Beverly’s rooms.

  “Yes, quite. Though you must try harder not to take your jabs at Michael in the presence of your brother. His Grace will notice sooner or later, and you don’t want to risk his wrath.”

  “You’re right, but I’m still very angry with him.” He kissed her. She didn’t kiss him. He was the one who stepped over the line first, and she could not help but think that he would not have done so if he didn’t feel at least something toward her.

  “Be angry when you’re not in the same room as your brother. That’s all I ask. If he should catch wind of what we’re about, you’re back to the country and I’m stuck here with my father after Saturday’s ball. How can I help you then?”

  “You are right, as usual,” Elise replied. “But do you think he surmised the reasons I chose the theater tonight with Huddleston and Wilson?”