Never Miss a Chance (Kellington Book Two) Page 4

  He turned to find emerald green eyes peering into his.

  “I don’t know how to thank you,” she said.

  “Were you harmed?” He asked the question quietly, but there was no mistaking the intent behind his words.

  “No. It truly was a mishap.” She started to explain, but he began leading her down through the garden.

  Lizzie could hardly keep up with him. “Where are you taking me?” she asked.

  “The mews. I’ll call for my carriage and take you home.”

  “I already sent a message to Lynwood.”

  “I assure you that the last person you want to see right now is your brother.”

  He said it with such clipped tones that Lizzie began to wonder if Lynwood wouldn’t be the better alternative to Riverton.

  “Why are you so angry?”

  At least that got him to stop, although it certainly didn’t put him in a better mood.

  “What were you thinking to have an assignation in plain sight!”

  Lizzie was stunned, both by the accusation and his vehemence.

  “I wasn’t having an assignation. I simply stepped out to have a bit of air.”

  “And yet you ended up with your bodice around your waist.”

  This was worse than being scolded by Lynwood. Lizzie stopped and pulled her arm from his. “It wasn’t my fault! I tried to get away.”

  There was a long moment of silence, then he spoke with a menace she’d never heard from him before. “Sir John Matthews is a dead man. I’m taking you home, then calling him out.”

  How could the evening be getting worse, she thought irritably. She was cold, humiliated and now having to deal with an irrational, overprotective man. “You’ll do no such thing! It was a misunderstanding. He asked me to marry him…”

  Riverton stilled. “You didn’t say yes, did you?”

  “Of course not! But he became enthusiastic when he kissed me…”

  Riverton became even more agitated. “Why did you kiss him?”

  “I didn’t have a choice in the matter.”

  Riverton clenched his fists and a muscle in his jaw twitched. “I’m calling him out.”

  “Stop saying that! It was just a kiss, which, admittedly, got out of hand. He didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “He ripped your clothing.” Riverton’s gaze went to his jacket clutched to her chest, then flicked quickly back to her eyes. Lizzie was unsure but it seemed his color grew heightened, no doubt from anger.

  “He ripped my gown by accident.”

  “And then fled the scene like a coward.”

  “I’m glad he left. Otherwise I might’ve been forced to marry the man.”

  Riverton looked startled.

  Lizzie took advantage of his blessed silence to continue. “I don’t know why you’re so upset. After all, you’re not my brother.”

  “No, Lizzie,” he said, regaining his countenance. “I’m not.”

  They stood looking at each other for a moment. Lizzie had never noticed that his hair had a silvery sheen in the moonlight. She might’ve considered the matter more closely, but they heard voices nearby.

  He took her hand, then led her to the mews, where his carriage appeared moments after he summoned it. After leaving a message for Lynwood, he and Lizzie were on their way to Lizzie’s home.

  And her future.

  * * *

  From her bedroom on the second floor, Lizzie could tell when each of her brothers arrived home. There were no doors slamming. Heskiss was much too good at his job to allow such discord in the house. But she could hear Arthur and Hal yelling, as well as Riverton’s quiet responses – although she couldn’t quite make out the words. The person she didn’t hear was Liam. Although she knew he must be down there, taking it all in. Making a plan.

  The coach ride from the ball had been somber. Riverton had sat across from her, doing his best to avoid looking at her. The only time he’d even glanced in her direction was when the coach had hit a rut and she’d been jostled so hard that his jacket had fallen from her shoulders. He’d instinctively reached over to ensure she didn’t fall and then his eyes had dropped, seemingly in spite of his own wishes. When she’d looked down, she’d been embarrassed to see that her right breast was almost fully exposed. Mortified, she’d looked up, expecting to see him equally embarrassed. But instead, he was glowering in the corner, his eyes focused on the outside scenery.

  When they’d arrived at Lynwood House, Riverton had suggested in his all-too-solemn voice that it would be best if she went to her rooms and stayed there until he’d had a chance to speak to Lynwood. She hadn’t wanted to obey him, but she also hadn’t wanted to speak to Lynwood until he’d had a chance to let his temper cool. She had nothing to fear physically from him or any of her brothers, but a furious Lynwood would more than likely sentence her to a draconian punishment, like banishment to the country. A Lynwood who had some time to think the matter over was more likely to be reasonable.

  At least Lizzie prayed that would be the case.

  She’d been in her room for half an hour, when she heard her brothers enter the house. All of them were there, which didn’t bode well for a reasonable outcome. The suspense was killing her. She needed to know what was happening in Liam’s study.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “I don’t care if dueling is illegal!” said Arthur, throwing up his hands as he paced in Lynwood’s study. “I’m going to call that bastard out if I have to get on a ship to America as soon as I kill him.”

  “Not if I get to him first,” said Hal from the settee, where he sat grim-faced sipping a brandy. “If I have to fight you for the honor of running him through, I’m prepared to do it.”

  “Neither of you will be fighting anyone,” said Lynwood firmly, from his desk. “Hal, pour us all another brandy.”

  “Why do I always have to do the menial tasks? Arthur’s going off to avenge our sister’s honor and all I get to do is pour,” said Hal, right before he finished off the last of his drink.

  “Never underestimate the importance of fine brandy,” said Lynwood. “Neither of you will call the man out because we can’t afford to focus any more attention on this situation than already exists.”

  “I don’t think it’s possible to make it a bigger scandal than it already is,” said Arthur. “Half the people there were already buzzing about it before you got Riverton’s message. This isn’t going away any time soon.”

  Lynwood turned to Riverton, who was standing by the window, lost in thought. “Thank you, Marcus, for helping our sister. We are all in your debt.”

  The three brothers raised a glass to the marquess.

  “You owe me nothing. I only wish I’d kept closer a watch on her.”

  “It was good of you to keep watch on her at all,” said Arthur. “You’ve gone above and beyond the duty of a family friend. But I am concerned. Are you sure she wasn’t hurt?”

  “She was shaken, but, thankfully, had no injuries,” Riverton replied. “She told me Sir John had meant her no harm. If he had, it would be I on the first ship to America tomorrow after meeting him on a field at dawn.”

  Lynwood looked at his friend over his glass of brandy. “Indeed? And is it still your opinion that we should be sequestered from Lizzie? Or have we calmed down enough to see her?”

  “I meant no disrespect,” said Riverton, recognizing the subtle challenge. “But I wanted to give her the chance to regroup before she faced all of you.”

  “Then we owe you another debt,” said Lynwood as he leaned back in his chair. “For having our sister’s best interests at heart in all circumstances.”

  Riverton casually turned back to the window. “Where is your Aunt Prudence?”

  “On the battlefield,” said Arthur. “She and Mariah stayed behind to do what they could to stem the rumors. But they’d need a miracle to clean this up. First that blasted treatise and now this. How will Lizzie ever be able to recover?”

  “I always thought Lizzie could get out of an
y scrape,” said Hal. “She always could when we were growing up. But now… She’s not going to have to marry that Sir John fellow, is she?”

  “No!” said Riverton quickly enough that Lynwood’s gaze returned to him.

  “Of course not!” said a voice from the doorway.

  Lady Elizabeth had come to do battle.

  The four men looked at her for a stunned moment, then Lynwood rose and walked toward her silently. Lizzie braced herself, not knowing what was about to happen. Then without words, the duke pulled her into his arms.

  And that was all it took for the strong, independent and brave young lady named for England’s most powerful queen to break down into silent tears.

  * * *

  Riverton knew he should leave, that he was intruding on a family’s crisis. But he couldn’t depart. Not yet.

  He’d been aware of Lizzie’s presence all evening long, from the moment she’d arrived in the ballroom, through her flirting with that damned Stalford, to putting up with Gwendolyn Bossert’s impertinence. He’d been aware of the leers sent her way, the tittering behind fans. He’d wanted to rail at the whole lot of them, a room full of fools who weren’t fit to breathe the same air as Lizzie. Yet, he knew he’d been the biggest fool. In love with a woman he could never have.

  So when Lady Willoughby had approached him, brushing her breast provocatively against his arm, he’d been glad for the distraction, even though it hadn’t diverted his attention from Lizzie for a single moment. He’d been surprised to see her speaking to Sir John, and he should’ve prevented them from going out to the terrace. But he hadn’t dreamed the insolent pup would dare try to kiss her.

  He could’ve prevented the whole catastrophe, if only he hadn’t been trying so hard to disguise his feelings.

  He’d wanted to rip Sir John apart with his bare hands when he’d seen Lizzie’s torn gown and the distress she was trying so hard not to show to others. He was caught up in anger not just at Sir John, but at himself for not protecting her. It was the sole reason he was even at the damned ball. How had he failed so spectacularly?

  But his worst failing was that in the midst of trying to protect her, of taking her away to safety, he’d been lost in a sea of lust. If he hadn’t kept himself across the carriage from her, he would’ve had her in his arms. And, God, when the jacked slipped and he’d seen that beautiful, full breast with just a hint of rose-colored nipple, it was all he could do not to bring his mouth down on hers and whisk her away to spend the night in his bed.

  In some ways, he was no better than Sir John Matthews.

  And that was a painful truth to swallow.

  * * *

  When Lynwood finally pulled back from his embrace, Arthur and Hal both held her close. Riverton wanted to touch her, just to assure himself that she was all right. But he knew the folly of that. If even a hint of his feelings showed on his face, Arthur and Hal would be fighting over who would run him through first. The best he could do was look at her from across the room. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. But it was all honor would allow him to have. Their eyes met for just the briefest of moments, then Riverton looked away.

  “Liam, you must know that I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” said Lizzie quietly. “The treatise was one thing, but I would never….”

  “We know,” said Lynwood comfortingly as he led her to the settee. “We know you’d never do anything like that. Riverton filled us in on the details. Now all we have to do is determine what happens next.”

  “I won’t marry Sir John,” said Lizzie, regaining her composure. “I’d rather die a spinster in the dower house at Lynwood.”

  “I don’t think anything that drastic is in order,” said Lynwood with a brief smile.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” said Arthur, as he patted her shoulder on his way to get another drink. “It might be an excellent place to spend a few months, reflecting on the scare she gave us and in light of that dreadful treatise.” He gave a dramatic shiver. “Giving women the right to vote, indeed. You might as well make it a requirement for cats to wear evening clothes.”

  “Perhaps you’d like to take a sabbatical from the gaming tables and join me at the dower house,” said Lizzie, warmed by her brother’s teasing. “Then you could reflect on the evils of gaming and spirits and illicit affairs.”

  “Illicit affairs?” said Hal. “You shouldn’t even know of such things.”

  “Oh, please,” said Lizzie. “It’s impossible to be your sister and not hear of the many women you’ve had liaisons with. I even heard you had your eye on Lady Willoughby.”

  At the mention of Lady Willoughby’s name, Riverton glanced up to find Lizzie looking at him while Hal sputtered something about females being seen and not heard and wondering why Lynwood had never locked their only sister in a dungeon.

  “While I appreciate the suggestion, Hal,” said Lynwood, as he sat in a chair by the fireplace and stretched out his long legs. “I’m afraid any dungeon would have to be large enough to hold all three of you, since none of you have lived blameless lives.”

  “And you have?” asked Arthur with an easy grin.

  “Of course not,” said Lynwood. “Although I do think I’ve perhaps learned the art of discretion a bit better than any of you.”

  “Just because you’re better at covering your tracks, doesn’t mean you don’t have tracks to cover,” said Lizzie.

  “As you say. And I am quite familiar with lessons about casting stones. However, regardless of who is to blame for the current situation, a solution must be found. We must come up with the best way to proceed.”

  “What if I do go to the country for a while?” suggested Lizzie, hoping “a while” would turn out to be a few weeks at the most. It would give her a chance to work on the next treatise. Not that she’d breathe a word of that to anyone in the room, of course. “Not the dower house – it’s too dreary by half. But there’s much I can do at Lynwood Manor.”

  “Do any of those activities include writing?” asked Lynwood.

  “Well, of course,” said Lizzie with her best look of innocence, perfected by two decades of mischief. “I shall write to all of you and Aunt Prue and Mariah.”

  “I wasn’t referring to letters, as you are well aware. If you think you can continue your political activities you are much mistaken.”

  This was exactly as she’d feared. “You can’t deny me, Lynwood!”

  “My dear, not only can I, but I must,” said Lynwood the disciplinarian once again. “While it isn’t solely your fault, your reputation has been damaged irreparably. Were I to allow you to continue down this road of activism, I’d be a party to your permanent ruin.”

  “But some things are more important than reputation,” said Lizzie, tears once again flooding her eyes. Apparently this was her evening to masquerade as a watering pot. “I’m serious about these reforms. It’s not some whim of mine. I can’t stop now and I won’t be a coward.”

  “No one could ever accuse you of cowardice,” said Riverton so quietly that all eyes turned to him. “But any great campaign requires not just passion and commitment, but strategy and efficiency, as well. Because of tonight’s events – regardless of your innocence – you’ve lost the respect of some members of the ton. Unless you can regain your standing, your words will be wasted. The only way you can be an effective voice for change will be to do exactly as your brothers say. Restore your reputation, even if you have to grit your teeth as you do it.”

  Lizzie wiped the tears from her eyes. “It’s unfair.”

  He nodded. “Such is the way of the world.”

  She considered his words. “If the only way I can make a difference is to restore my reputation, then it must be done.”

  “Can’t we just restore your reputation and leave it at that?” asked Hal. “Why stir up the females of London any more than you already have? There are so many other, more enjoyable ways to while away the hours with them.”

  “Refill our drinks, Hal,” said Arthu
r, giving him his glass. “No one wants to hear how Lizzie’s activities are cutting into your social life.”

  “No, we most certainly do not,” said Lynwood. “Ah, Aunt Prue and Miss Mariah please do come in.”

  The two ladies swept into the room, concern for Lizzie clear in their faces. As the gentlemen found seats for them, Aunt Prue recounted their efforts at the Tarlington ball.

  “Unfortunately, we were unable to make much progress,” said Aunt Prue. “Lady Halliwell – with her horrid daughter in tow – was telling everyone what they’d witnessed on the terrace, embellishing along the way. The daughter was even worse. I would never have thought Gwendolyn even had an imagination, but apparently the chit has quite an ability to tell a story. All of it lies, of course. Hal, pour Mariah and me a spot of brandy, if you please.”

  “Why does no one ever ask Arthur to pour?” grumbled Hal on his way to the sideboard.

  “Did Gwendolyn and her mother mention Sir John?” asked Lizzie.

  “Is that who it was? I wouldn’t think he had enough nerve to even address you. I would’ve forbidden the match even if that buffoon hadn’t had the criminal effrontery to press his affections. His fond mama is like something out of Grimm’s fairy tales. Mark my words. If Sir John ever does marry, it shall be to a girl who’s deaf in both ears. Or handy with a gun and not opposed to matricide. But on to you, my dear Lizzie. I’ve come up with the perfect solution: You’ll get married. Oh, hullo Riverton,” she said as she gave the marquess a pointed look. “I didn’t see you when we came in.”

  Prue took a glass from Hal, then downed half of it in one gulp, as everyone else looked on.

  “I think you’re right,” said Lynwood. “Marriage may be the only way to salvage this. You danced with the Earl of Stalford tonight, Elizabeth. He’s from an old family and respected in Lords. He’s not known for gaming, is he Arthur?”

  “I’ve been across the table from him a time or two, but I’ve never heard of any excesses.”

  “Hal, does he have a reputation with certain establishments you frequent?” Lynwood asked, with an eye toward the ladies in the room.