Hesitating for a moment, Eliza chose her words carefully befo
re she responded. “I have not given you any specific promise, Lord Montrose,” she said, slowly. “I have accepted your courtship, of course, but that is all.”
Much to her frustration, Lord Montrose simply laughed at this, shaking his head as though she were being deliberately foolish.
“Come, come now, Miss Wells. You know very well that my intentions were entirely honorable when I sought to court you. You were fully aware at the time that I have every intention of marrying you and making you my wife. I can hardly imagine that you would turn your back on such a thing now!” He looked down at her and grinned. “Have we not already discussed your concerns over my character and the like? Have I not already absolved you of such worries?”
Trying to think of a suitable response, Eliza cleared her throat delicately. “You have ensured that I no longer entertain such concerns, yes,” she replied, knowing that her questions over Lord Montrose’s character were not only present in her mind but growing steadily. “But that does not mean –”
“And if, as you say, there is nothing that might suggest you have any affection for Lord Avondale, then there is nothing to prevent us from moving forward in our courtship.”
Eliza stopped walking, pulling her hand from Lord Montrose’s arm. “What can you mean, Lord Montrose?” Her heart was pounding furiously in her chest, praying silently that he was not about to propose, not when she had not had the time nor the opportunity to ask him about what Lord Avondale had heard. She was not ready to accept him, not sure of her own heart. Lord Avondale still had her love, she was quite certain of that, but whether or not she could truly ever forgive him for what had occurred, whether or not she could rebuild the trust that had been so brutally shattered, was quite another thing. As for Lord Montrose, Eliza was beginning to fear that she was only seeing a façade that the gentleman wore for her to see. If what Lord Avondale had said was quite true, if what Lord Franks had said about Lord Montrose’s past behavior was still relevant at this present time, then Eliza knew she could not accept him. Even though she had given him her assurances that she was more than willing to be courted by him, even though, as he had said, she had known that he intended to propose, she could not accept his hand in marriage quite yet.
Lord Montrose ran his eyes from the top of her head to her feet, before allowing his gaze to become languorous as it drifted slowly back up her form to her face. Eliza went hot all over, unable to imagine what he was thinking and certainly unused to being looked at in such a way.
“Miss Wells,” Lord Montrose began, grandly, as though he were about to offer her a wonderful gift. “I have taken the liberty of ensuring that our future is quite secure. You shall be my bride and I shall be your husband.”
Eliza swallowed hard, her hands beginning to tremble as she looked, uncomprehendingly, into Lord Montrose’s face. “What can you mean, Lord Montrose?” she asked, her voice thin and wispy. “You have not yet proposed to me and I certainly have not accepted!”
Lord Montrose laughed again, the sound setting Eliza’s teeth on edge. “But, of course, Miss Wells, in knowing that you would accept me, I have already begun preparations for our wedding day.” He tipped his head and smiled at her, as if she should be as delighted as he. “You will find the announcement in the society papers this very afternoon.”
It was as though a hole had opened up below her feet and pulled her under, burying her deep within, earth and dust and sand filling her mouth and nose. She could not breathe, darkness creeping in at the edges of her vision as she struggled to make sense of what had been said.
“I confess that Lady Whitehaven may be somewhat displeased with me for not speaking either to her or your brother first, but I have written to the new Lord Whitehaven to seek his permission and I do not think he shall refuse.”
Closing her eyes tightly, Eliza dragged air into her burning lungs, determined that she would not collapse where she stood. She could not quite make sense of what Lord Montrose was saying, slowly beginning to understand that her future had been taken directly out of her hands and placed firmly into his. By his own determination, he had moved to make their engagement known to all of society, before he had even asked her for her hand in marriage. If it was in the society papers already, then she had no opportunity to refuse him, no chance to pull the news away before all of London knew of it.
Lord Avondale will read it.
“Do be careful, Miss Wells!” Lord Montrose sounded a trifle concerned as he grasped her elbow, making Eliza aware that she had been swaying where she stood. Lord Montrose chuckled, his concern gone in a moment. “Overwhelmed with happiness. I quite understand. Come now, I shall return you to the carriage and take you back to your dear mama.” He held her arm tightly and began to turn around so they might walk together. Eliza went with him, stumbling slightly, unable to find anything to say in response to this dreadful news. What could she do? She might berate Lord Montrose for his hastiness, for his improper way of doing such an important thing, but the announcement would still be in the paper and all of London society would still read it. To break of the engagement now might be disastrous, not only for her but for all of her sisters and cousin also.
Lord Montrose, it seemed, had everything tied up quite neatly, and Eliza was struggling to see a way out.
Chapter Nine
“Do come in, Northgate.”
Jeremy, whilst glad to see his uncle, could not help but feel a twinge of guilt over his lack of progress in finding out who had treated Rebecca so terribly. He had managed to reacquaint himself with society, yes, and in doing so had picked up a few new acquaintances as well as reviving previous ones, but nothing of substance had come to his attention. Of course, he had asked a few questions and done his very best to try and find out who Rebecca might have been personally acquainted with during her time in London, but it had been some years ago and not very many people remembered her.
Not that Rebecca had not been beautiful or the like but, as far as Jeremy remembered, she had always been fairly quiet. His uncle had told him, back when Jeremy had first come to know of Rebecca and her situation, that Rebecca had never sought to push herself forward in society, had never wanted to garner the attention of any gentleman. Therefore, whoever had sought her out must have cajoled her, encouraged her and slowly managed to entwine her heart with his – whilst all the while wanting to seduce her for his own pleasures.
“You are looking well this afternoon, Avondale.”
Jeremy managed a quick smile as he offered his uncle a brandy. “Thank you, Uncle,” he stated, wondering if his look of contentment came from what had occurred between himself and Eliza only a few days ago. He was somewhere between a new found confidence and utter despair, not able to surmise what she was thinking and certainly not what she intended to do and therefore forced simply to wait in hopeful agony.
“You have been enjoying society thus far, then?”
Jeremy laughed and sat back down. “No, indeed not,” he replied, earnestly. “I have found the company of my peers to be a little lacking, I am afraid. Although I have been able to reacquaint myself with Lady Whitehaven and her daughters, which has brought me some kind of relief.” He allowed himself another smile, his mind continually fixed on Eliza. “There is, perhaps, a little hope.”
His uncle looked surprised and did not smile in return. “I see,” he said, slowly. “That is….good, Avondale.”
A little confused as to why his uncle did not seem to be as delighted over this as Jeremy had thought he might be, Jeremy shrugged inwardly and sipped his brandy, not allowing himself to be dragged back into desperation and worry. He could have told his uncle about how he and Eliza had spoken in the gardens and how she had accepted what he had said about Lord Montrose, but he chose, for the moment, to keep it to himself. There was always the chance that Eliza would not want to see him again, would not want to listen to his explanations about Rebecca and what had occurred thereafter, but every time his mind would tug in that direction, Jeremy would recall the kiss and something like fire would shoot up in his chest, sparking his confidence and allowing him the opportunity to hope.
Having considered it many times over, Jeremy was now quite convinced that Eliza had kissed him in return, even if had only been for a moment. It was that knowledge that brought him such courage, that hint of a promise that continued to encourage his mind to believe that she might yet return to him. Nothing could take that from him now, he was quite determined.
Lord Northgate cleared his throat, a frank look in his eyes. “You have heard about Napoleon, yes?”
Jeremy lifted one eyebrow, surprised by the sudden change in conversation. “Indeed,” he said, slowly. “He is close to defeat, it seems. By 1816, everyone is hopeful that we shall be freed from fighting for good.” He studied his uncle carefully. “Although there is always the chance that Napoleon may yet continue to fight back against his impending defeat.”