Love & Marriage - (AU M/L ADULT) (Complete)

[blake]

Winner-Round 11




Title: Love & Marriage
Author: me
Rating: probably up to ADULT
Disclaimer: Roswell doesn't belong to me.
Summary: The new Earl of Kingston needs a bride, the pretty Miss Parker seems to be perfect for the role, but love doesn't seem to be playing a large part in the marriage and Elizabeth wants more from her husband.
Category: M/L, with some M/M and I/A added in for spice

http://photo.starblvd.net/~mystasia/1-1 ... 1028773704

Love and Marriage

*One*

Maxwell Evans, current Earl of Kingston, watched the mass of people below him dispassionately. He was in need of a wife to supply him with the required heir. It was a singularly distasteful task, but he never was one to shirk the duties of his title.

His sister, Isabella, had planned this gala at her home in order to help him choose a proper bride. In this instance proper meant any high-ranking, good-looking woman. But he had his own set of standards that had yet to be met. So far all of the women paraded in front of him had been severely lacking in intelligence.

He sighed heavily and left his secluded perch and, not wishing to be announced, descended a side stairway. It wasn't as if nobody knew of his presence, the awed hush and sweep of whispers had marked his entrance nearly a half-hour past. The elusive Earl never attended any event, so this was something of a scene to the whole of the ton.

Truth was he found the whole thing bothersome and dull. Gossiping and cuckolding were the only things ever accomplished at these balls, and of course, plots of marriage minded mamas, and now he was stepping into the chaos almost voluntarily.

"What do you think Maxwell?" asked a confident voice at his side. He turned toward his older sister and gave her one of his rare smiles. Her brown eyes narrowed and studied him intently, then she sighed, noting his sardonic expression. "These are the best girls available Maxwell, if you don't prefer any of them you'll have to wait until next Season."

He shook his head. "I will have a wife as soon as possible Isabella. Kingston needs an heir."

"And then what Lord Evans? Ship your blushing bride away to the country?" He glared at the intruder, who merely smiled back prettily.

"Hello Marianna," he greeted politely, then looked past her to the man hovering at her side. "Mr. Davis."

The red-headed man gave him a curt nod, "Kingston."

"How goes the Museum of Scientific Oddities?" he inquired.

"Quite well, fascinating artifact in from the West Indies, I-"

"I would like some wine," Marianna interrupted, "Brody, would you mind fetching me some?" She fluttered golden eyelashes at the helpless man and sent him on his way. As soon as he got out of sight her demeanor changed completely. Her cat-like green eyes scanned the room avidly and then looked back at Maxwell. "No one as yet?"

"No," he agreed, "And why do you insist on stringing Mr. Davis along like that, Marianna?"

Marianna Alehandra Roberta Christianne Johsephine DeLuca-Sahn had been married and widowed within a year. She still held the title of Lady Sahn, after her husband Douglas passed away, and was enjoying the benefits that came with the wealth and freedom of that station.

She shrugged slim shoulders. "It's fun. How about Theresa Harding?"

"Who?"

Isabella rolled her eyes and smacked him with the pink fan she was holding. "I introduced you to her the other night at Lady Fenwicks's ball." She pointed discreetly to a girl dancing with young Lord Valent.

Maxwell eyed her speculatively. He remembered her, ambition with no brains to do with it. Her pretty blonde head was empty as those blue eyes of hers. "Not a possibility."

"There's the Troy chit," Marianna suggested.

"No," Isabella disagreed, "She was caught in the gardens with Mr. Shellow last week, you know that."

He sighed as they continued to prattle on, planning the whole of his life without a thought to his consent and compliance. They were a pair of bold women who would do everything in their power to control his life. He sighed, Lord save him from a wife of the same caliber. Not that he wanted a wife without a backbone, just one who would follow his guidance in all matters…

He frowned, catching sight of a dark swath of fabric among the bright pastels. He moved away from his sister and friend, into a position with a better view.

The girl was young, more than likely fresh from the schoolroom, but she had an air about her that spoke of quiet grace, intelligence, and, he suspected, a stubborn streak.

Yes, the tilt of her chin just there and the flash of her eyes…She had just the right amount of spunk, and it was obvious she wasn’t a slave to the ridiculous trends Isabella deemed fashionable. Her dress was simple, tasteful, not showing an undue amount of flesh, and her manner seemed polite.

“Isabella,” he called quietly. She broke off her conversation with Marianna and they hurried over to him. “Who is that woman?”

“Which one?” she asked, peering around the room.

“The one in the dark purple dress,” he expanded, cocking his head in the right direction. Isabella followed his prompt and made a growling noise in the back of her throat.

“Her dress is not purple Maxwell, its plum,” she told him, looking frustrated that he couldn’t tell different shades of the same color.

“The color doesn’t matter, Isabella, who is she?” he demanded.

“Miss Elizabeth Parker,” Marianna put in, “But you steer clear of her Maxwell Evans, or I’ll box your ears.”

Isabella and Maxwell looked at her in surprise. “Why?” his sister inquired, “Is there something we should know about her?”

“No, no, nothing like that," Marianna said, rolling her pretty green eyes, “It’s merely that she’s a close friend of mine and I would like to see her married to someone who will love her. She deserves that.”

“And you deserve some champagne,” a new voice cut in smoothly. The three looked up as Michael Guerin, Lord of Stonevale came up bearing a glass for Marianna and a smile for Maxwell and Isabella. “You’re looking quite well Bella,” he complimented, kissing her cheek, “How’s the search for a wife going, Maxwell?”

“I believe a found a likely candidate,” he replied, ignoring the way Marianna began to bristle, “Miss Parker.”

“Ah, the fair Elizabeth,” Michael chuckled, “She’s a sweet girl, not my type,” he gave Marianna a look, “But sweet. She’d be perfect for you, Maxwell, definitely of the wifely nature.”

“She’s poor,” Marianna blurted out, shooting Michael a spiteful glance, “Her father only had enough to sponsor this one Season-”

“Well then,” Michael interrupted, “Why are you getting in the way of her finding a husband?”

“Yeah, Marianna, I don’t need more money,” Maxwell stated, “It doesn’t matter if she doesn’t have a dowry, I just need someone suitable for the position of Lady Kingston, and everyone seems to agree she fits the bill.”

“But-”

“No buts Mari,” Michael told her, grinning, “Let the man be, at least he knows what he wants.”

“And just what is that supposed to mean Stonevale?” she demanded.

“It means that Mr. Davis is on his way over here with a glass of champagne for you when I specifically told you not to see him again.”

She put her hands on her hips and Maxwell and Isabella exchanged glances, used to the scenes Michael and Marianna presented to Society. “And what makes you think you can just order me around?” she inquired, voice deceptively sweet.

“Mayhap it’s the fact that you’re sharing my-”

“Brody!” Marianna severed the remainder of his sentence, glaring at him to freeze a devil, “Would you care to escort me in the waltz?”

The man sputtered and flushed and in the end managed to squeak out an “I’d be honored Lady Sahn” and then Marianna swept away giving warning looks to both Michael and Maxwell.

Michael sighed, “I don’t get her. I mean, I love the woman, but I don’t understand her.”

“You’re not supposed to,” Isabella put in, waving to her husband as he entered from the gaming room. Alexander smiled brightly and made his way over to the threesome.

“Why so glum?” he asked, taking his wife’s arm.

“Marianna,” Michael said simply.

“Ah,” he nodded his head sagely, “Why don’t you just marry her and have done with the whole affair?”

Michael polished off the glass Brody had brought to his lover and sighed deeply. “What fun would that be?” he asked, grinning at them, and then sauntered away, intent on flirting with the Whittaker widow and putting Mari in a fine fury.

Alex turned to his brother-in-law, “And you Maxwell?”

“Marriage.”

“Ah,” he smiled at his wife, “Can’t say I can help you on that front. I, myself, lucked out.” Isabella laughed and blushed, laying her head on his shoulder.

“All right than, more specifically, Elizabeth Parker.”

“Sweet girl,” Alex said absently, staring down at Isabella lovingly, “She’d actually be quite perfect for you, now that I think about it. What’s the problem?”

“Marianna.”

“Ah-What?” He took his attention from his wife and looked quizzically at Maxwell.

“She says I’m to stay away from her.”

“Hmm,” was his sister’s input, “Mari’s like a hen guarding a chick with that one.”

“Well…” Alex appeared to mull over the information they were throwing at him, then he grinned, blue eyes sparkling with mischief, “When have you ever listened to Marianna?”

[blake]

*Two*

Elizabeth Parker, known to her dearest friends as Lizzie, quietly prepared herself for the day without the assistance of a maid.

It was a rare thing in the glittering world of the ton that a young lady in her first Season should be self-sufficient enough to dress herself and do her own hair and perform all the duties of a Lady wife with minimal influence from charm and deportment schooling.

However, self-sufficiency was required when a woman was in such a position as she. The Parkers had never been extremely rich, but what money they had had was used to pay doctors from all over to treat the illness contracted by Mrs. Nancy Parker. Unfortunately, no cure was found for all the time and money spent and Elizabeth’s mother had passed away when she was ten.

Since then Elizabeth had taken over household duties. She was the one who kindly, but firmly, dismissed the servants, who kept track of spendings and investments. She was the one who saw to it that her father ate and slept and got out of the house to lessen the grief that still plagued him.

In truth, the only part of her life and her father’s that she did not take care of was plans for her marriage. She was quite content to remain in her role as caregiver and mistress of the house, but her father would have none of it. Jeffrey Parker was set that his daughter would be married to a man who would provide for her for the rest of her life.

And that was why they were in London, living in a rented townhouse, and she was going out every night to balls and dinner parties until she could barely keep her eyes open. She was to snag a husband, whether or not she wanted one.

She had argued with her father before they had come to London that the money he had hoarded for this purpose would be better spent on something useful to their small family and what few servants they had left, or invested in the canal venture near Panama, but he had turned deaf ears on her pleas.

So now she had fixed her own mind to accomplishing what her father wished her to do. She would find a husband who could care for both her and Jeffrey, or else they would be on the streets, thrown to the footpads and demimonde.

She shuddered, her delicate shoulders quivering as she thought of it. She would not allow that to happen, not under any circumstances. She looked resolutely in the small mirror above her vanity and promised to herself she would do her duty as a daughter. She would make her father happy.

And then her inspection turned from self-reflection to appearance. She was going visiting with Lady Sahn today, and as Marianna ran in very high circles of Society, she had to look perfect.

The clothes she possessed were not at the height of fashion, but Marianna said they set her apart from the typical ladies of the ton, making her appear more sweet and sensible to the men she needed to attract, and too poor for the dandies and fops to try to compromise. And luckily, most were light in color, as pastels were all the rage this Season, though some had a darker tone from her period of mourning.

Today she picked out a plain pink dress, no tucks or frills, with a pin-striped pink and white pelisse. She carefully pinned a smart straw bonnet with daises on her done up brown hair and left her room to find her father.

Jeffrey was sitting at his desk in his study when Elizabeth knocked. “Come in,” he bid.

“Father?” She entered slowly, eyes immediately landing on the barely touched breakfast tray Mrs. Lonee, their housekeeper, had left him. “Father, you know you need to eat breakfast!” she scolded, heading briskly towards his desk to pour him some tea.

“Hmmm,” was his noncommittal response.

She looked up sharply, surprised by his attitude. Normally he would laugh away her concerns and tease her about how pretty she was looking and how he shouldn’t let her out of the house. But today it was just “Hmmm.”

Elizabeth frowned. “Father what’s wrong?” she inquired, alarmed at his stunned expression.

Jeffrey turned glazed blue eyes on his daughter and he gave her a disbelieving smile. “You’ve been offered for,” he told her, still dazed, and glanced down at the parchment in his hand as if he couldn’t believe it was real.

“Haven’t I been offered for before?” she asked, confused.

“Of course,” he waved a hand airily, still smiling in that disturbing way, “But that was by merchants, minor lords…this…Oh ho, my honey bear, this is what I’ve been waiting for!” He stood and walked around to embrace her, eyes no longer distant, but triumphant.

“Who, Father?” she queried, feeling her heart drop. She’d be married off now, like a horse to auction. She held back a sigh and managed a curious smile when her father released her.

“The Earl of Kingston!” he stated with a flourish.

Her jaw dropped. “Kingston?” she repeated, as though her ears had failed her, “Are you quite certain?”

“See for yourself.” He held the letter our to her and she scanned it, as well as the envelope. And what he said was true, it was the Kingston seal, and Maxwell Evans’ bold signature at the bottom of the page.

She sat down abruptly in one of the large armchairs before the desk and stared at it blankly. “What would he want with me?” she wondered allowed, “What could I possibly offer a man such as he?”

“Lizzie, my sweet, you’re underestimating yourself,” her father cheered, “He obviously saw in you all the qualities a man as powerful as he could require in a wife.”

“But he’s never even met me!” she exclaimed. How could he possibly know if they would suit if they’d never been introduced?

A solid knock came at the study door and Mrs. Lonee stuck her head in. “The Lady Sahn is here for Miss Elizabeth.” She gave a quick nod of her head and was out the door.

Elizabeth stood and kissed her father’s worn cheek. “We’ll discuss this when I return,” she told him.

“What is there to discuss?” Jeffrey demanded, “He’s what we wanted, he’s bloody perfect! I’ll pay him a visit today, in fact, get everything laid out on the table, just so there’s no misunderstandings.”

She sighed, not wishing to diminish her father’s joy, but hoping that it all was just one big misunderstanding. She’d rather be married to someone she knew something about. Someone like Lord Valenti, or even Marianna’s cousin Mr. DeLuca, though Shawn had seemed a bit too bold…But still, at least she had a general idea about what they were about. She had no idea about this Earl’s designs on her, though they seemed honorable. She just wished she knew him, that she had been able to look in his eyes…

Treading slowly down the front steps, she entered Marianna’s carriage and smiled at her friend, though it was a little forced. Marianna smiled back, and Elizabeth knew she had caught her friend’s mood with those knowing green eyes of hers.

“What’s wrong Lizzie?”

She contemplated her new friend seriously, meeting her emerald eyes straight on. She had meet Lady Sahn at a dinner party when she first arrived in London a month ago. She had been intimidated at first by her vibrancy and forwardness, but Marianna was a woman of the world, and knew the ins and outs of Society intimately.

They had become fast friends, despite their differences, and Mari’s connections had gotten Elizabeth invited to the most exclusive parties and into the most prominent drawing rooms, which had pleased her father immensely, though Elizabeth was still awkward about her newfound popularity at times. And now, she was Elizabeth’s most trusted companion.

“What do you know about the Earl of Kingston?” she asked, knowing her friend would be aware of every speck of dirt on the man.

“Maxwell?” Marianna said, sounding surprised, then she narrowed her eyes suspiciously, “Why would you need to know about Maxwell?”

“He’s offered for me,” she confided in a whisper.

“No!” Marianna shouted, “He didn’t dare!”

Taken aback by her friend’s reaction, she straightened in her seat, staring hard at her. “What do you mean, Mari?”

Marianna blinked angry green eyes at Elizabeth. “I mean how dare he when I specifically told him, just two nights ago, that he was to leave you alone!”

“Why would you do that?’ she asked, puzzled, because Marianna had been enthusiastic in helping Elizabeth find a husband. “Is there something wrong with him? Is he unkind?”

“Oh, goodness no,” Mari soothed, “He’s just…well, he doesn’t let people in. He’s a hard man to fall in love with, because he won’t love you back Elizabeth.”

“I don’t understand.”

Marianna sighed heavily and leaned back into the cushioned seat of the carriage. She regarded Elizabeth earnestly, gloved hands steeped above leaf green skirts. “It’s hard to explain, Lizzie, Maxwell is very east to fall in love with, from a woman’s point of view-”

“But didn’t you just say he was hard to fall in love with?” she interrupted, still baffled with her friend’s logic.

“I’m saying that you’ll fall in love with him easily, but it will end up a hard position to be in, because he won’t open his heart up to you.”

“Oh.”

Marianna nodded wisely and leaned forward to pat Elizabeth’s hand. “He’s very private, and often comes of cold and callous, but he’s really a wonderful man. If I weren’t already in love with that blockhead Michael, I’d marry him myself.”

“So then what’s the problem with me marrying him?”

“It takes a long, long time for that man to let someone in Elizabeth, and by the time he gets around to it, it’s often too late. Even you, as sweet and charming as you are Lizzie, won’t get far with him, and you don’t warrant that kind of marriage. You need love, Lizzie, or you’ll whither away like a flower without sun.”

“Mari-”

“Don’t worry,” she said, waving away Elizabeth’s next words, “I’ll take care of it, he’ll revoke his offer.”

She blinked, and shook her head. “That’s impossible Mari.”

“Nonsense, I’ll knock him upside the head if he won’t listen to reason. And you don’t need to worry about gossip Lizzie, I’ll make sure no one knows he offered.” And she sat back, satisfied that she’d taken care of every possible situation.

“But my father’s already left to speak with him,” Elizabeth finished her earlier thought as Maria shot up in her seat, ruffled emerald bonnet coming askew.

“Already?” she wailed, “But that ruins everything!” Elizabeth just looked down, clasping her white-gloved hands together, suspecting Marianna wasn’t finished, and she was right. Mari rose and banged on the top hatch, shouting to her driver. “Change of plans James, please bring us to the Whitman’s residence.”

“Aye, aye, milady,” he responded affably.

“Whitman’s?” Elizabeth asked, “But Lady Whitman isn’t on our list for today.”

“We’re taking a small detour. Don’t worry. You remember I introduced you to Isabella last night at Lady Castleman’s party?” At Elizabeth’s affirmative nod she continued. “Well Bella is Maxwell’s sister, she’ll know what to do,” she rolled her eyes, “She always knows what to do.”

[blake]

*Three*

Isabella, Lady Whitman, settled onto the cushioned couch in her library, opening the latest epic of Lord Byron’s, an intense story with ghosts and love…She sighed, no one could write anything as deeply thrilling as Lord Byron’s works.

She was just getting to the good part when Rathbone entered the library, his dark brown eyes and lined face looking at the floor. “Lady Sahn and Miss Parker have come to call, Lady Whitman.” Her butler held open the door as his mistress put down the book and walked out of her sanctuary.

What did Mari want? It had to be important, her friend knew she did not appreciate being bothered when she had a day of relaxation planned. Rathbone followed her down the steps to the entryway and then motioned to the drawing room with his head.

“Shall I have Cook prepare some tea?”

“Yes, please,” she said, giving him a gentle smile, “The spicy one from China if she could?”

He nodded and headed toward the kitchen while Isabella went to see to her guests. They rose as she entered, Marianna in an airy summer green and Elizabeth pretty in pink. She paused and studied the girl for a moment, Elizabeth met her measuring gaze with a set, if shy, expression.

In truth, Isabella found the girl charming. A perfect gem. She could see why her brother would be interested in a person like her, a rose among all the usual flowers of the ton. She practically radiated sweetness and a loving, homey feel. She would make Maxwell happy.

That is, she mused, if he let her.

“Marianna, Miss Parker.” She gestured to them to sit.

“Oh please Lady Whitman, its just Elizabeth,” Miss Parker protested, her voice low and pleasant.

“Then I am just Isabella,” she responded, giving Elizabeth a welcoming smile, hoping to put her at ease, “Now, what is this unexpected visit about? I assume you have a good reason?” She raised an eyebrow and gave Marianna a pointed look. She had the grace to blush, but leaned forward, looking solemn. “Is something the matter?” she demanded.

“Yes,” Marianna said, “Your brother-”

“Maxwell!” Isabella shrieked, cutting Mari off. She rose, one hand over her heart. “Is he hurt? Oh Marianna, where is he? Does he need me? Is it serious?” Marianna blinked, and then began to smile. “Mari! This isn’t a laughing matter, now what happened?!”

“Oh Bella,” she chuckled, “Nothing like that.” She waved a hand and put her arm around Elizabeth. “It’s something Maxwell did.”

“Oh.” Isabella sat, relieved, but then narrowed her eyes at Mari, “Are you saying Maxwell did something wrong?”

“Yes!”

Now Isabella laughed, “Please, Mari, Maxwell doing something wrong? My brother’s perfect, he’s never done anything wrong in his entire life.”

“Well…” But she trailed off as Cook entered, setting the tea tray down and bowing out. The women were silent as Isabella poured and passed out cups, after the first sip Marianna continued. “He defied me, Bella.”

“Defied you?” She felt a smile quirk her lips. “In what way?”

“He went and offered for Elizabeth!”

Isabella shot a look at Elizabeth, who had remained quiet during their whole exchange. Her dark brown eyes regarded Isabella earnestly, still sipping her tea calmly, though her hand shook a little. “Already?” was her only response.

“What do you mean ‘Already?’” Marianna demanded, “He wasn’t supposed to do it at all!”

“Mari he’s a grown man,” she scoffed, “And if he’s taken a fancy to Elizabeth then that’s his decision. We’re not children anymore, you can’t knock him down a flight of stairs if he doesn’t listen to you.” She finished off her first cup of tea. “Besides, you can’t blame him Mari, she’s a perfectly lovely girl, exactly Maxwell’s type…”

“Thank you for the compliment Lady-Isabella,” Elizabeth finally spoke, “But how does Lord Kingston know I’m perfect for him if he’s never bothered to be introduced?”

Her jaw dropped, “Do you mean to tell me he’s never spoken to you?” They both nodded. “Well, the nerve of him! Offering for you without even…Well, I’ll take care of it, you can bet your bottom dollar!” She gave a decisive nod of her head.

“I knew you’d handle everything,” Marianna said, settling down, “I told Lizzie you would,” she gave Elizabeth a warm smile, “Now that that’s taken care of, we have calling to do.” She clapped her hands and stood, signaling Elizabeth to rise also. “Good day, Bella, thank you for the tea.”

“You’re welcome, Mari,” she went to see them out, “Please come again, when you have an appointment. In fact, wait until I send you an invitation!”

Marianna responded with a smile and a wave, pinched Rathbone’s cheek as he opened the front door, and walked briskly down the front steps to her waiting carriage. Elizabeth smiled timidly and tied her bonnet into a precise bow. “Thank you for your help,…Isabella, but I don’t know how much help it will do.”

“Don’t worry, Elizabeth, I can deal with my brother.”

“It’s not that, it’s just my father…” she lowered her eyes to the floor, “He’s wanted this for me, to make a good match, and if…I just want him happy, Isabella.” Her brown eyes were now locked on Isabella’s face, imploring and deep. “I…I just don’t know what to do anymore…And Marianna, she just wants to help, but…”

Isabella laid a gentle hand on the girl’s slim arm. “Don’t worry. Now you should go before Marianna starts hollering out the carriage like a hoyden.” That comment caused a remarkable transformation and Elizabeth’s face lit up with a smile, a small, cute giggle escaping her lips.

“Good day Isabella, and thank you again.” One last smile and she also left, giving the butler a smile to through him for a loop.

“Well, she’s definitely not what Maxwell will expect,” she murmured, gazing out a window beside the door, “But she’s really quite refreshing.”

“Indeed Lady Whitman,” Rathbone said, looking dazed, “A real Original.”

She laughed again, a low, rich sound that caused her husband to stick his head out of his study. “Out of the library?” he inquired, grinning at her, “Can you spare a moment then?”

“Always, Alexander,” she replied, “Always.” She walked towards him and shut the door behind her. “What do you need, darling?”

He grinned again and sat down at his chair, removing his glasses and cleaning them. “Invitations to every soiree in town,” he said, sounding disgusted as he shoved the envelopes toward her, “I can’t make heads or tails of them, but I didn’t want to come between you and Lord Byron.”

She stacked the mess into an orderly pile and gave him an indulgent smile. Men were so helpless when it came to the intrigues of Society. “I shall have to go through them later. I’m making a visit to my brother.”

“Are you expected?” he asked.

“No, but I’m his sister, I’m always welcome.” She sat on the edge of his desk and gave him a quick kiss. Then stood up and headed for the door and her cloak. “I’ll see you tonight. Remember, the opera at nine, I’ll be in the box.” His sigh of despair was lost as she shut the heavy oak door.

Chuckling she turned to Rathbone, “I’ll be taking the carriage, please have Villie lay my clothes out for the opera tonight.”

“Yes, Lady Whitman.”

She settled down in the carriage wondering what she could say to her brother to make him slow down his decisions lately. The least he could have done was court her a bit. Marianna was right, Maxwell hadn’t gotten the chance to know Elizabeth, which meant he probably wasn’t planning on letting her in enough to love her, and from what she’d seen of Elizabeth, she deserved to have that kind of love.

Alighting the front stairs of Maxwell’s townhouse, she rapped sharply on the door. It opened and she took an involuntary step back. She just could not get used to the looks of his butler.

“Hello, Lady Whitman,” he greeted in a gravelly voice.

She gave him a weak smile as he took her cloak and bonnet. “Hello, Zanial,” she replied cordially, “Is my brother available?”

“Yes, ma’am.” And he beckoned her to follow him.

She trailed him at a safe distance. She had never inquired where Maxwell had found him, but he had the look of a cutthroat about him. Continually tan, eyes black as coals, with an earring in his left ear, and a swagger you just did not see in a well-bred servant of the ton.

She stepped into her brother’s study after Zanial announced her presence, and was unsurprised to see him seated behind the large desk in front of the window. He gave her a once over and then focused his attention back on the paperwork.

“Isabella.”

“Maxwell,” she replied primly, unaffected by his cool tone.

“I don’t believe I knew you were coming.”

“No, I don’t suppose you did,” she retorted and went around back to lean over his shoulder and read the quarterly reports. Her brother sighed and gave her a look. She smiled, “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Surprise, surprise,” he drawled, “What about?”

She seated herself on his desk. “Elizabeth Parker.”

“What about her?”

“You offered for her.”

“Ah,” he nodded, understanding seeping into his expression, “Yes I did.”

“Well, take it back,” she ordered.

“What?” He scratched his forehead, “I can’t do that Isabella.”

“Of course you can,” she stated, “You just go to Jeffrey Parker and revoke your offer, at least for a time. Get to know Elizabeth.”

He shook his head, “I’ve already spoken to Mr. Parker, the notice of the engagement is going into tomorrow’s newspapers.” He sat back, arms crossed, gazing at her with a quiet challenge. “Besides, you were hounding me to get a wife and do my duty to the title of Kingston, why the sudden change of tune, sister dear?”

“You’ve never even met her Maxwell.”

“I don’t need to, from what I’ve heard she’ll make me the perfect wife. That’s all I care about.”

“Exactly, you’re not even going to make an effort. Think of Elizabeth, Maxwell, she’s being married off to a man she doesn’t even know!” Isabella sighed, “You’ve been completely insensitive about this whole situation.”

“Well its too late now, isn’t it,” he snapped.

“Maybe not,” she answered, “Have a long engagement, take her riding, dance with her a parties…Come to the opera house tonight.”

“What does the opera have to do with this?” he asked petulantly.

“Marianna invited Elizabeth to go tonight, you can talk with her during intermission,” she urged.

He narrowed his eyes. “You’re not going to drop this are you?”

“Nope,” she responded, smiling widely.

“Fine,” he relented, “I’ll come.” She tapped her finger on the desk expectantly. “And I’ll talk to her.”

“I knew you’d see it my way.”

“I know you did,” he said sourly, “Somehow I always end up seeing it your way."

[blake]

*Four*

The theatre was an absolute crush. Elizabeth nearly lost sight of Marianna’s red gown several times, but managed to evade collision with the people around her, and caught up with her friend, who had been stopped by her cousin on the edge of the throng.

Shawn DeLuca turned burning brown eyes on her and she felt herself blush deeply. The dress she was wearing was one Marianna had had custom made for her for her birthday. It was white, tight, low cut, and not Elizabeth’s style. But Mari had been so excited and she hadn’t had the heart to tell her no.

She opened her fan and waved it in front of her in a lazy motion, blocking Shawn’s ungentlemanly view of her flesh. “Mr. DeLuca,” she greeted, smiling at him and extending one gloved hand.

He grinned back and took the hand, placing a chaste kiss in her palm while bowing. He straightened, not releasing his hold. “Please, Elizabeth, it’s Shawn. Mr. DeLuca sounds too formal for friends.” He twisted slightly, so that her arm was caught in his, and began to lead her away. “Allow me to take you to our box Elizabeth.”

“Oh, I-”

Marianna cut off her half-hearted protest by cutting between them and taking Elizabeth’s arm herself. She glared at her cousin. “It is my box, Shawn, you’re not welcome in it.”

He feigned a wounded expression. “Why Mari, you’re so cruel.” Then he smiled and winked at Elizabeth. “Until tomorrow then.” And then he left, swallowed up by the multitude to opera-goers that never seemed to diminish.

Her friend gave a disgusted snort and muttered impossible actions under her breath. Elizabeth hid a smile beneath her fan. She didn’t quite understand Mari’s dislike of her cousin, Shawn was a nice person, for all that he was a little too bold for Elizabeth’s tastes.

“Come on, Lizzie,” Marianna ordered, and tugged Elizabeth’s arm, pulling her up the stairs, where they were met by an usher, who escorted them to the Sahn family box. They sat down and arranged their skirts according to propriety.

Elizabeth had never been to an opera before and so far it seemed very exciting. People were milling about in every direction she looked, all in the height of fashion. The boxes were full of the wealthy, more privileged members of the ton, all of whom had their glasses up and were studying the other theatre patrons and making remarks.

Marianna did the same and raised her glass, peering around at a certain box and letting a smile cross her face. She turned to Elizabeth, “I believe we may be getting a couple visitors at intermission.” At Elizabeth’s curious glance she smiled wider and indicated for her to lift her own glass. Marianna pointed discreetly to a box across the theatre housing two men.

Elizabeth’s observation revealed Mari’s “friend” Lord Stonevale and another gentlemen. She drew in a sharp breath, arrested by the sight. He was the epitome of Lord Byron’s heroes; serious countenance, dark looks, and soul-stealing eyes. She had never seen a man such as he and suspected she never would again.

“Who is he?” she inquired breathily of Marianna, lowing the looking glass and staring at her friend, who laughed.

“That, my darling, is Maxwell Evans.”

“Lord Kingston? He's my fiancée?” she queried, stunned. He was not at all what she had expected of her future husband.

Mari nodded. “What do you think?” Elizabeth rose the glass to her eyes again and brought him into sharp focus.

“He’s very handsome,” she commented shyly.

“Yes, he is. He’s also wealthier than Croesus and the prime catch of this Season and every one before it.” Mari gave an amused smile. “It’s good that he wants to settle down, and I know your father wants you to marry him, but it really was going to fast. That’s why Bella and I arranged for him to come tonight. To speak to you.”

“You mean he’s going to come over here?” she demanded, “He’s going to talk to me?”

Marianna’s green eyes twinkled, “Well how else do you expect to get to know him?”

This gave Elizabeth a pause. She knew Mari actually wanted this marriage to go through, but she also knew her friend wanted Elizabeth to be happy and she knew she wouldn’t if she didn’t know her husband. So she had found a way to get the two of them to talk, and Elizabeth was grateful. This way she could look into Maxwell’s eyes and see him, and her father would be happy.

“Marianna…” she trailed off, unsure of what to say, but Mari’s eyes softened.

“Hush Lizzie, the show’s about to start.” She patted Elizabeth’s gloved hand with her own and they turned their attention to the scene unfolding on the stage.

An hour and a half later Elizabeth sat back and sighed deeply. The story was entrancing, the music exquisite, and Catalani was a simply divine lead. “This is wonderful Mari,” she gushed to her friend, “Thank you!”

Marianna laughed, “You’re welcome darling, now prepare yourself, I believe my Michael and your Maxwell are headed in this very direction.” Elizabeth straightened and blushed.

“I’m getting nervous Mari,” she confided, “What if we don’t suit?”

Marianna scoffed, “You’re perfect for each other. Just don’t let him close up Lizzie, you’ll never get to know him if he’s closed off.”

Elizabeth bit her bottom lip. She was worried that she wouldn’t be able to work up enough courage to speak to him. That he’d find her boring and insipid.

“Lady Sahn?”

Marianna started and glanced around wildly at their intruder. “William?” she inquired, incredulous. Then she squealed with delight and sprang up, hugging the man exuberantly. “Oh William, how fabulous to see you! I thought you were in France?”

The black haired man shook his head and kissed Mari’s cheek. Elizabeth stood, looking timidly at her friend and William met her gaze. He gave her a slight bow around Marianna’s arms to which Elizabeth responded with a nod. She clasped her hands in front of her and waited for Marianna to introduce them.

“Lizzie this is William Darden, William this is Elizabeth Parker.”

“A pleasure Miss Parker.” He gave her a smile, teeth white against his full beard.

She dropped a tiny curtsey. “Mr. Darden.”

Mr. Darden smiled again and then turned his attention back to Marianna. “I have to get back to the orchestra pit, can I see you later? While I’m still in town?”

“Of course.” Mari was practically glowing with pleasure. “I’ll be awaiting your call.” She simpered at him and leaned up to place another kiss on his cheek when a throat cleared at the box’s entrance. The occupants turned to see a very angry Michael Guerin and an aloof Maxwell Evans.

“I’ll just be going now,” William said and kissed Mari, then he gave a nod to the entering men and was out the door.

“What was that?”

Marianna put her hands on her hips. “That was one of my very dear friends, who I haven’t seen in years, coming to see how I was doing.” Lord Stonevale just glared.

Mari dismissed him immediately and turned her bright smile on Lord Kingston, whom Elizabeth had been covertly studying all the while. He was even more handsome up close, with his dark bangs just brushing his proud forehead, his straight Grecian nose, and those lips… Not to mention his eyes, which were the most amazing shade of brown she’d ever laid eyes upon, fringed by long, dark lashes.

The only problem that she could sense was when his eyes met hers. The color was still amazing, still deep and soulful, but they seemed distant. Cold and untouchable.

“Maxwell, may I present Miss Elizabeth Parker?” Marianna introduced, “Elizabeth, this is your fiancée, Lord Kingston.” She smiled at both of them and took a still seething Michael by the arm and led him away. “We’ll leave you two alone. I believe Isabella is expecting us Michael, hurry up!” she ordered.

Elizabeth stared in alarm at the spot her friend had just vacated. Then she turned her frightened eyes on Maxwell, whose gaze on her was assessing and detached. “Miss Parker,” he commented coolly, kissing the back of her hand.

She blushed and curtseyed, “My lord Kingston.” She looked everywhere but at him. “Would you care to sit down?”

He gave a curt nod and gestured for her to sit first, which she did, taking a considerable amount of time to rearrange her skirts and giving him an opportunity to sit down and get comfortable also. When she finally looked up his eyes were trained on hers, a touch of interest in the depths. “My sister made it plain to me that you wished to speak with me Miss Parker.”

She blushed and tried to organize her thoughts as he stared at her unblinkingly. His gaze was unsettling her, the intensity in it spoke of layers to this man that he had no intention of sharing with anyone, least of all his future wife. “Yes, my lord, I do indeed.”

“May I inquire as to the nature of this discussion?”

She took a deep breath. “Our engagement, my lord,” she informed him bluntly.

He raised one eyebrow and a slight twist graced his lips, almost as if he wanted to smile. She hid a frown, suspecting he was going to be condescending. “What about our engagement?”

“Don’t you think it’s going rather quickly?” she asked delicately, “I mean, we’ve never spoken before now, how do you know if I’m what you want in a wife?” How do I know if you’re what I want in a husband? She concluded in her head.

“Elizabeth,” he started, and now his tone was patronizing, “My only requirements for a wife were that she be fair of face, intelligent, capable of running a household, and agreeable. Most people seem to think you’re the perfect candidate.”

“But what if everyone’s wrong?” she pressed, “What if I’m a horror once we’re married? Did you consider that?”

He gave a short laugh and she shivered as the husky sound traveled through her senses. “Believe me Elizabeth, Marianna would have never adopted you if you were in anyway unsuitable for our circle of friends. I have no worries as to your behavior after we are wed.”

“But-”

“No buts, Elizabeth.” His voice now was sober, hard, and brooking no arguments. “I will make this very clear Miss Parker. I expect nothing more from you than an heir and no trouble.” Her mouth dropped open in an unladylike manner. “The announcement will be in the paper tomorrow, and we will be married a month hence, and that is final.”

Her mouth shut with an audible snap and she turned angry eyes on him. “Now just a moment my lord, I will not be bullied about like a girl fresh from the schoolroom with no knowledge of the world!” she exclaimed, “Regardless of your plans for this marriage and my father’s, I expect-”

“Elizabeth,” he interrupted again “You are fresh from the schoolroom. You have no idea how Society works, and the contract your father and I reached is the best one you are going to get. This marriage has nothing to do with love or warm feelings. It is simply a convenience, one that benefits us both. I will do my duty to my title and you will do yours by your father. Is that all Elizabeth?” She said nothing, merely looked away, tears filling her eyes.

“Yes my lord,” she whispered. She felt him stand, but stayed sitting, not looking at him.

“Good evening, Elizabeth,” he said as he took his leave.

“Good evening, my lord,” she replied softly. Suddenly her face was forced upward and she was caught by the burning power in his amber eyes. He was a man of authority, of riches and influence. He was used to getting his way. She trembled as he studied her, his strong hand holding her chin in place.

“I’m not cruel Elizabeth,” he told her quietly, “I will be a good husband to you.”

She nodded, “As you say, my lord.”

He growled low in his throat and dropped his hand to scrub at his face. “I don’t want you frightened of me.”

“You do not frighten me, my lord, you merely intimidate me.” She met his eyes forthrightly, refusing to let him get to her. “I shall try to overcome that once we are married.”

He gave her a smile that made her shiver once more. “See that you do Elizabeth, see that you do.” He bent down and placed a featherlike kiss across her lips. She sat frozen, bewildered, as he left. A few minutes later Marianna burst into the box.

“Well, I think that went well!” she exclaimed, “It looked a bit tense for a time, but he kissed you Lizzie! That is so fabulous!

Elizabeth looked up at her, still trembling from the aftereffects of Maxwell’s kiss, very much afraid she was falling in love with her fiancée. “I’d like to go home Mari,” she told her friend faintly, “I’m not feeling well.”

[blake]

*Five*

Zanial entered the room with his typical uneven gait, his black eyes darting around the study, looking for intruders. Maxwell waited patiently at his desk for the former pirate to bring him his morning coffee and the paper. The butler set the tray down and subjected his master to a glare.

“Mrs. Ifer wants to know if you’ll be needin’ breakfast,” he told him, voice low and rough.

Maxwell sighed. It was so much trouble to have to train new cooks. Soon though, Elizabeth would take over the duty and he wouldn’t be bothered so needlessly. His schedule did not allow for breakfast, and he would normally take both lunch and dinner at his clubs. “Tell her I will not be requiring it this morning.”

Zanial nodded curtly and backed out the door. Maxwell poured himself a cup of coffee and sipped it as he opened the paper to the business section, wanting to see how his investments were faring and what new ventures were in the works.

Halfway through the column on the canal project, a thought struck him. He flipped quickly to another section and paused, staring down at the announcement with satisfaction. As of this afternoon, all of London would be abuzz with the news of Lord Kingston’s engagement to Miss Elizabeth Parker. And, more than likely, Mari and Bella would be after his head.

He quickly closed the paper and folded it under his arm, then he chugged down the rest of his coffee and headed out the door of the study. He yelled for Zanial to bring the coach around and then grabbed his coat and hat. He would hide where the girls couldn’t find him.

Half an hour later the coach stopped outside one of his clubs and Maxwell got out, feeling smugly superior to his womenfolk. He turned to Zanial, who was driving. “I’ll hail a taxi back.” His response was a curt nod and a shout to the horses as he began to merge back into the morning traffic.

Maxwell walked calmly into the building and up the stairs past the gaming tables. He never gambled, it was a terrible habit, and would only play an occasional hand of whist with friends if money wasn’t betted. He never took any chances with the family’s money, it was imprudent.

He handed his coat and hat to a valet, nodded to a few acquaintances, and headed to a large chair in front of a crackling fireplace, where he settled in to read the paper without distraction.

Unfortunately a day without distraction was never afforded to one Maxwell Evans.

“Kingston.”

Maxwell suppressed a groan and looked up, face a mask of chilled politeness, letting his disturber know he was not happy about the intrusion. He became even less happy when he found out who it was. “DeLuca,” was his clipped reply, letting his disinterest be heard. He looked back down at his newspaper.

He heard a muttered curse from the man who was still hovering, even though Maxwell had made it plain he was dismissed, and then the paper was ripped from his hands.

He looked up at a seething Shawn DeLuca, aware that the other members of the club were hushed and completely centered on the confrontation. Maxwell frowned slightly, “I suggest you hand that back to me Mr. DeLuca, or I’m afraid I will be very put out.” His voice was iron hard, the warning obvious, but Shawn didn’t seem to be in the right frame of mind to recognize the warning.

He tossed the newspaper into the fire and gave Maxwell a challenging glare. Maxwell did not get up from his chair, in fact, he leaned back into it, giving Shawn a condescending smile. “Are you quite finished Mr. DeLuca?” he inquired, sounding amused, “Or is there something else of my person you’d like to burn?”

Muted laughter floated to them from the other patrons and Shawn turned red. “Bastard,” he hissed.

At this Maxwell sat up straight, features dark as death, “I assure you Mr. DeLuca, I know who both my parents are, and can trace my lineage back several generations. I shall let that slight pass, because you are Marianna’s cousin, but utter another and I will be forced to call you out.”

The other man trembled, but unwisely began to open his mouth again. Maxwell sighed, he wasn’t fond of the business of duels. One had to get up so early and then there was the fact that someone always would up injured or dead. As well as the tiny detail that dueling was illegal…

“Problem, Maxwell?”

He looked up. “Hello Michael. Alexander,” he greeted the two men who had appeared suddenly at the sides of his chair, “No problem, but I do believe Mr. DeLuca here was going to say something.” He gave Shawn his attention again, smiling predatorily. DeLuca was very red, and very angry.

“We’ll finish this later Kingston,” he informed Maxwell, then he nodded at Michael and Alexander, “Stonevale. Whitman.”

Maxwell stood and the three men watched him leave. “What was that about?’ Alexander asked.

Maxwell shrugged, “I have no idea, but I’ve been deprived of my morning paper.” He spared a mournful glance for the fire. And then prepared himself for the firing squad, because he knew his sister and friend had sent the men to do their dirty work when they realized he had escaped their wrath by ducking into a gentlemen’s club, which he also knew not even Marianna would try to sneak into. “So what do-”

He was cut off by the light smack Michael planted across his face. His friend hadn’t used much force, or Maxwell would be on the floor, and obliged to challenge Michael to a duel, but it was enough to turn his head. His eyes went cold and he touched his lip to make sure it wasn’t bleeding.

“Sorry,” Michael said, actually looking apologetic, “That was from Marianna.”

Maxwell nodded and then turned to Alexander, “And what does Isabella have to say?”

Alexander looked slightly embarrassed and gestured to the chairs, “We should probably sit down, this might take awhile.” When they sat, he pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and cleared his throat, bending down to study Isabella’s handwriting. “Maxwell,” he started, making his voice sound so like Maxwell’s sister that he had to smile, “You bloody idiot! What were you thinking?! I can’t believe…”

Maxwell listened to the reprimanding letter with half an ear, instead, he poured the three of them glasses of port, so that when Alexander’s throat began to get sore, he could parch it, and just for something for he and Michael to do for the next twenty minutes.

He didn’t understand what Mari and Bella were so angry about. They were the ones who wanted him to get married! They were the ones who tried to foist every young debutante of the ton on him! Why were they being so fickle now?

There was no doubt in his mind about Elizabeth. In truth he had begun to think he had gone into this marriage business a little quickly, but his fears had been allayed last night. Elizabeth would make the perfect Lady Kingston.

His first impression of her at Isabella’s ball had proved correct. She was sweet, sensible, and had a backbone, which was exactly what he wanted in a wife. And she had made him laugh…

She was smaller than he had originally thought, though. Petite and slender, she gave him the fancy of a doll, something delicate that needed to be protected and taken good care of. She didn’t have the goddess-like beauty of Isabella, nor the allure of silk sheets and candlelight that Marianna gave off, but she had her own something.

And it was something he was well aware other men had noticed. He had read wagers in the club’s book as to which offer a certain Miss P would accept. His name hadn’t been mentioned and it occurred to him that no one knew he had offered for her.

It had been a calculated risk kissing her before the eyes of the most prominent and influential members of Society last night, but it had made his point.

Elizabeth Parker was taken.

[blake]

*Six*

The veil of silence that permeated the cozy traveling carriage was not exactly awkward, but it was not entirely comfortable either. Each of the two people in the carriage was deep in their own thoughts.

Elizabeth’s eyes kept straying from her view of the passing countryside to her new husband. They had been married little more than an hour ago, and had set out upon the obligatory month-long honeymoon after Elizabeth had changed from her wedding dress to her traveling dress.

Marianna and Isabella had been there to give words of encouragement, and Alexander had offered her a hug. Then Maxwell had helped her into the carriage and the silence had prevailed.

The problem, she mused, was that she had no idea what to say to him. He always seemed so aloof, even in this past month before their wedding. True, he had come to more social engagements, had been attentive to her every whim, but… He still gave her no clue as to his thoughts.

There were brief moments in time, when he was with Lord Stonevale, or Mari, or Bella, or even Alexander, when he seemed to let that impenetrable guard down. She had seen him smile, even really laugh, at certain points, and when she caught his eye in that second, they were clear and overwhelmingly beautiful.

It gave her hope during her short engagement. There were women of the ton who had felt it in her best interest to inform her that Maxwell Evans was a cold fish. Of course, Elizabeth had taken note that these were also women who had thrown their poor daughters at Maxwell’s feet whenever he entered a room, or women whose eyes followed him across a room with a hungry stare…

But… Shawn DeLuca had also warned her that Maxwell was a hard, cruel man, who would never let her be herself. When she had brought her worries to Marianna, her friend had said not to believe a word her cousin said. Elizabeth was going to take her word for it, because she had known Maxwell since they were children, and she wouldn’t lie to Elizabeth.

She was going to put what Shawn had said out of her mind. Maxwell wasn’t cruel, she could see that when she looked in his eyes, guarded or not, and maybe he would be domineering, but Mari said every man was that way, except Alexander, he let Isabella walk all over him…

“I hope you don’t mind a working honeymoon,” Maxwell said. Elizabeth looked at him sharply, then gave a soft smile at his attempt at conversation.

“No, it’s fine,” she told him.

“It’s just I’ve been gone for a whole Season, my properties will need reviewing, I must find out what’s needed, find a supplier…” he trailed off.

“I understand,” Elizabeth said, “I’ll just make myself useful around the house.”

Maxwell gave her a crooked smile, “I just won’t be around a lot… I don’t want you to feel abandoned.”

“I understand, my lord, really.” She gave him a hesitant smile and clasped her hands nervously.

“We’re married now Elizabeth,” he said, “You really should call me Maxwell.”

She blushed, “As you wish, my lord.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Elizabeth?”

Her blush deepened “Maxwell,” she said firmly, and looked up at him through her lashes. He gave her a gentle smile and went back to the paper he had set aside. She felt like sighing, it was obviously the end of that conversation.

The silence continued for another two hours, occasionally broken by a muttered comment on the idiocy of such and such a decision that Maxwell read about in the news, but those were not directed at his bride.

When the carriage finally rolled to a stop, Elizabeth was half asleep. Maxwell had given her a light shake and gave her a smile when she blinked up at him drowsily. “We’re here,” he informed her, and then alighted from the carriage and offered her a hand.

She took it, grateful for the support as she tried to stand and walk on cramped legs, and descended the carriage as he drew her to him. For a moment she felt a connection with this man who was her husband. She realized she felt safe and protected in his arms…

It was true, she thought, as she gazed at him, she had begun to fall in love with him.

“What do you think?” he inquired, turning his focused stare on her, and she blushed again and finally looked at her new home. A gasp escaped her lips and she moved forward from under his arm, gaping at its enormity.

Kingston Mansion was indeed magnificent. “My lord,” she whispered, “It’s amazing. I’ve never seen such a place.”

he turned her wide eyes back to him and felt a flash of anger at his amused smile. Then she berated herself for betraying her lack of sophistication. It was obvious that he was well acquainted with this type of show of wealth, and as his wife, she would learn to familiarize herself with the same thing. But right now, she was too wonderstruck to pretend.

Servants were scurrying around them, taking bags, talking to the driver about where to unhitch the horses, and Maxwell ignored it all, merely took her arm and escorted her up the stone steps and into the front hallway, where Zanial, who had come up a week earlier to prepare the house for his master and mistress’s arrival, waited with a woman and a girl.

The butler gave them both a curt nod and gestured that he needed a word with Maxwell. “One moment Zanial,” he said, “Elizabeth, this is Mrs. DuPris, she’s the housekeeper, and her daughter Laurie. Now, Zanial,” he and the butler moved away from the womenfolk.

Elizabeth gave them a tentative smile, clutching her purse in anxiety. She hoped they liked her. “How do you do?” she asked, “I’m Elizabeth.”

Mrs. DuPris dropped a stiff curtsey, which Laurie eagerly copied, “That’s fine, your ladyship,” the older woman said, “As the master said, I’m the housekeeper, you come to me if you have any problems. Laurie here is going to be your maid-”

“It’s my honor, my lady,” Laurie interrupted, smiling fit to crack her face in two. Her enthusiasm caused Elizabeth to give a real smile, which only made Laurie grin wider. She reminded Elizabeth of her brother-in-law Alexander.

Elizabeth was about to speak again, when Maxwell called to her, “Elizabeth, it seems there’s a problem, I’m going to have to leave-”

“Where is he?” came an irate voice, and a woman came barreling into the hall, “Oh, your lordship, thank Heavens!” Elizabeth blinked as the blunt-nosed blonde woman hurried up to Maxwell. “Lawrence has done it again! The nerve of that man… You’ve come just in time, my lord-”

“Calm down Jennifer,” Maxwell cut into her tirade, “Zanial has just informed me of the problem and I was on my way.”

She gave a huge sigh, “Thank you, my lord.”

He nodded and then looked over to Elizabeth, “I’ll be back as soon as possible, Mrs. DuPris will see you get settled in.” And with that he was out the front door, Zanial and Jennifer behind him.

Elizabeth turned back to Mrs. DuPris. “Well, I have to get back to the kitchens,” she said briskly, “Elsie’s been having trouble with that Meredith, no doubt that stable boy, Robert, has something to do with it,” she regarded Elizabeth, “Dinner will be on the table promptly at seven, his lordship most likely won’t be attending, that Lawrence is worse than that old coot Milton.” She shook her head and gestured to her daughter, “Laurie will show you to your room.” She gave another curtsey, “Good evening, my lady.”

Elizabeth sent Laurie a bewildered look as the younger girl led her toward a staircase. Laurie giggled, “You’ll get used to it, my lady. Mother runs the whole house, and it gets turned upside down whenever Master Maxwell comes. He normally spends all year in London, you see. Elsie is our cook, Meredith is one of the serving maids. She’s seventeen, only a little bit older than me, and she’s put out that I got to be your maid. She acts like she’s royalty most times, always ordering me about… Anyway, Robert is new, and Mother doesn’t like him…”

As Laurie chattered on, Elizabeth studied her new companion. The girl was about sixteen, three years younger than Elizabeth herself, she was of medium height, with blonde hair pulled back in a braid and quick blue eyes. Elizabeth thought they’d get on rather well together.

“Anyway, Milton lives in the woods a few miles from the mansion, he’s a hermit.” She rolled her eyes, “He’s harmless, but Mother’s right, he’s crazy as a loon.”

“And this Lawrence fellow?” Elizabeth asked, getting into the drama of Kingston.

“Oh, he’s taken up with Milton, always blathering on about this and that. No one pays him much mind, but sometimes he’ll climb into a rowboat and sit in the middle of the lake.”

“Why?” That just seemed ridiculous to Elizabeth.

Laurie shrugged, “He says he’s waiting for ‘them’.”

“Who are ‘them’?”

She shrugged again, “It’s something Milton got into his head. Jennifer despairs of doing anything with him, but she’s afraid he’ll drown or starve himself out there. Lord Kingston is the only one able to talk any sense into the man.” Laurie stopped outside a door and opened it, then she threw her hands up, “We all warned Jennifer not to marry him.”

But Elizabeth was suddenly captivated by the room. “Is this mine?” she asked, gesturing to the room.

Laurie blinked, then giggled and ushered her into the bedroom. “Of course, silly,” then she blanched, “I mean, my lady.”

Elizabeth waved away her impropriety, smiling, “Please, call me Elizabeth.”

Laurie gave her a brilliant smile, “Oh, I couldn’t, my lady, Mother would box my ears, she would.” Elizabeth was about to protest when Laurie moved toward the closet, where her bags were. “Let’s get you unpacked.” Elizabeth nodded as Laurie got to work, and wondered around the room.

It was large and airy, there was a window looking over the lake that had flowing white and lavender curtains. She could see a speck in the middle of the lake, and another moving towards it. She assumed it was Maxwell going to get Lawrence. The carpet was an ivory white, the walls the same pale shade of purple as the curtains, there was a delicate vanity and writing desk, and then there was the bed. It was a big canopy bed. She fingered the soft, white comforter and then drew her hands over the diaphanous white fabric that acted as curtains around it, held back by lavender silk cords tied to the bedposts.

“This is a beautiful room,” Elizabeth commented.

“Isn’t it though?” Laurie replied, straightening. She smiled, “And it suits you just so, soft and gentle like. It’s got such an elegant feel to it, but it’s dainty at the same time.” She gave Elizabeth a shy smile, “Lord Kingston had it specially done for you. Mother had all the maids working to redo it before you came.”

Elizabeth blinked, “You mean it wasn’t like this before?”

“Oh no,” Laurie exclaimed, “Lady Diane liked bold colors, there was ever so much red and blue in here…” She gave a laugh, shaking her head, “His lordship sent word a month ago that he’d be bringing a new bride home and he gave strict instructions on how he wanted your room to be. We cleaned and redecorated in a hurry, you can be sure.”

“Oh,” Elizabeth responded astonished. How had Maxwell known her tastes so well? She absolutely loved the room, and it was hers, wholly hers. Her husband had designed it just for her. She felt hope swell in her heart that he just might learn to love her back. After all, if he could take the time to discover her likes and dislikes, he might take the time to know her…

“His lordship’s bedroom is just through there,” Laurie continued, pointing to the double doors on one of the walls, “He just redid his during his last visit.” Elizabeth gazed at the doors, suddenly curious as to how he had decorated his bedroom. She was anxious for any little clue to his personality, anything that might help her understand him. “Ah, well,” Laurie stated as the chiming of the hall clock reached them, “Supper time, best get you to the dining room. I’ll give you a tour of the house and grounds afterwards.”

Elizabeth nodded absently, dragging her attention from the doors leading to her husband’s room. She shot another look out the window, where there were two specks still out on the lake as the sun began to lower in the sky. A sigh escaped her, it looked as if Mrs. DuPris had been right, Maxwell would not be joining her for dinner.

Twenty minutes later Maxwell had still not come in and Elizabeth was finished with her meal. She thanked the servants for clearing her dishes and let Laurie show her around. She met a lot of people, and began to relax. She was liking Kingston very much. The two girls explored the estate until it was too dark to do so, and then Laurie suggested Elizabeth prepare for bed.

Laurie hummed to herself as she helped Elizabeth out of her traveling dress. Elizabeth felt odd, but she didn’t want to dismiss Laurie just because she could do everything herself. It was obvious Laurie really wanted to be useful, so Elizabeth let her brush her hair and begin to braid it for bed. There was a short silence between them when they heard noises from Maxwell’s room.

“It looks like his lordship is back, Lawrence must have been more trouble than usual,” Laurie whispered, “I’ll leave you now.” She gave Elizabeth an impulsive hug and headed to the door. “Good luck,” was her parting word, along with a wink.

Elizabeth blushed fiercely as the door closed. She rose and walked to it, locking it, then she looked to the connecting door and walked over to it, unlocking it. She twisted her hands together for a minute, wondering what she should do. Wait for him in the bed? She shook her head, unsure, and the half done braid whipped her in the face.

She blinked in surprise and then went to the vanity, sat down, and undid the first part of the braid, and began to brush her hair out again. Elizabeth tried very hard to focus all her attention on brushing her hair out, but mostly, she was listening to the muffled noises coming from the other bedroom. She heard him dismiss his valet and put her brush down, her hands shaking.

The connecting door opened abruptly and Elizabeth started, turning instinctively toward the intrusion. Maxwell stood framed in the doorway in a black dressing robe. She trembled, knowing he wasn’t wearing anything underneath that dressing robe. She contemplated standing, but figured her legs wouldn’t support her, so she just sat there, staring at him.

He stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him, and their eyes finally met. She drew in a ragged breath at the fire burning in his incredible eyes, and then he began to walk toward her…

[blake]

*Seven*

Her eyes were amazing. They were so large in her face, and so dark and deep. A man could drown himself in her eyes.

And that was precisely what Maxwell found himself doing as he walked steadily toward where she sat. Elizabeth had not moved since he entered the room, she had merely stared at him unwaveringly with those luminous eyes of hers.

He stopped in front of her, their eyes still locked, and reached down to help her stand. She was trembling in his grip, but she still met his gaze unblinkingly. Maxwell loosened the belt of her white dressing gown and pushed it from her shoulders, lace hems fluttering as it fell to the floor.

A small intake of breath escaped Elizabeth, and she looked away from him, arms instinctively rising to cover her self. He stopped the gesture by taking hold of her arms lightly, and stared at her, frowning slightly. She still would not meet his gaze.

He could see the faint flush of color on her smooth cheek in the moonlight from the window. “You are still frightened of me,” he stated, voice even.

Her head swung back to look at him, eyes wide, “I am not afraid of you, my lord,” she protested, “I told you that before.”

“You told me I intimidated you,” he said.

She nodded slowly, “So you do.”

“You told me you would work on that,” he reminded her.

“I’ve tried, my lord,” she replied, “But you do not make it very easy.” She blushed again and looked down at the floor.

He took one hand from her arm and lifted her chin so that she had to look him in the eye. “And what do you mean by that, Elizabeth?”

“Forgive me, my lord,” she said softly, “But you are never really around long enough for me to get to know you.” His frowned deepened and he opened his mouth to dispute her words, but she continued. “I know you’re a very busy man, so many people depend on you, but…” she hesitated, licking her lips, and his attention was diverted, “It makes forming a rapport rather difficult, my lord.”

He tilted her chin up a little more and leaned his head down, intent now on her soft-looking lips. “I also believe, that you were,” his breath hitched as he brushed his lips across hers, “going to call me Maxwell.”

“Maxwell,” she murmured as he closed in on her again.

This kiss was different then the one he had given her at the theatre a month ago. This kiss was not a warning to anyone, but it was still a claim. Elizabeth was his. His wife.

And she was responding as such, her returning kiss was eager, although timid, and her fingers tangled in the hair at the base of his neck. Maxwell pulled her up against his hard body, and she gasped, breaking the kiss, her eyes surprised and a little alarmed.

She was an innocent, he reminded himself, and he pulled away slightly, judging her expression. It was obvious she was unsure how to progress, that she didn’t know what to do about his evident arousal, and he supposed that as her husband, it was his job to teach her.

His hand brushed down her throat, resting on the ties of her thin lawn nightgown. Elizabeth shivered, and the act caused her nipples to harden to points and push against the flowing fabric. He stifled a groan, he had already been aware of the dark flowers of her breasts, and the triangle of black curls at her core, the transparent white material of her gown left little to imagination, but her reaction to him was sweet.

Maxwell wanted her. He hadn’t thought about it before, hadn’t thought of her, that way before. She had merely been a suitable candidate for a wife, someone capable of everything he required. But this past month she’d stirred a desire in him he’d never known before.

It was her eyes, the way they unwittingly caressed him. It was her spirit, the way she’d suddenly say something, with such enthusiasm and intelligence. It was her pure heart and gentle soul. She enticed him like no other woman had in the course of his life.

He undid the laces at her throat and then ran his hands down her sides, bunching the fabric in his hands. Their eyes met for an instant and then he raised the nightgown above her head and threw it on the floor.

Maxwell ignored the clothing and began an inspection of his bride. She had tiny feet, shapely legs, a trim torso, firm breasts, slender arms, and little hands that were fluttering nervously. He drew in a ragged breath at the thought of those hands on his body, and met her gaze, his eyes blazing. Hers were wide, bottomless, and slightly defiant, as if daring him to comment on her form.

By God, he thought with wonder as a half smile claimed his face, she’s a small thing. Small and exquisitely delicate. Like a doll… His smile grew and it cause her to tremble, but not with fear. Pure male satisfaction coursed through him, causing his own body to clench with anticipation, and he moved toward her with all the speed and grace of a large cat.

He picked her up and placed her in the middle of the bed, and then knelt over her, removing his robe and tossing it to the floor. “Oh my,” was her shocked whisper. Her eyes widened even more as she stared at him.

Maxwell couldn’t stand it anymore. He was throbbing with need of her. He parted her legs, making her quiver again as his fingers traced the petal-smooth skin of her ivory thighs. He settled himself between her thighs, erect manhood poised at her entrance.

He propped himself up on his elbows so that he wasn’t crushing her, and stared down at her face. She was lying, body flushed, eyes downcast so that her thick, dark lashes swept her cheeks, her dark brown hair was spread thick and silky against the white pillow.

His hands found their way to her hair of their own volition, tangling in it as he lowered his head down to hers. His lips brushed across her forehead, down to graze her eyelids, then a quick touch to her parted lips, his tongue darting out briefly to stroke hers, and then down to her vulnerable neck.

Her head tilted upward without his prompting, and he sucked lightly on the velvety skin. One of his hands disengaged from her chocolate tresses and traveled down the length of her body, making her arch up into his body. It speared the tuft of curls above her womanhood and coaxed apart the protecting nether lips of her heat.

She was wet. Hot and wet and slick as he slid one finger into her. She made a small noise and her arms came around his shoulders, clinging to him. Maxwell placed a gentle kiss onto her lips and removed his finger, fitting instead the blunt head of his erection and beginning the slow penetration of her untouched body.

“My lord,” she remonstrated, tensing up, but he cut her off.

“Hush, Elizabeth, everything will be all right, just trust me,” he informed her. He could feel her trying to relax, could feel her slight nod against his shoulder.

“I trust you,” she whispered, and he could hear the unshed tears in her eyes. A strange feeling hit him in the gut, and he smiled, proud of his small, brave wife, and feeling inexorably pleased with her admission of faith in him.

He went slowly, so very slowly, being as careful as he could, even though his body was raging at him to plunge into her tight passage and explode. He could feel her inner walls expand to accommodate him as he thrust further into her. His embrace tightened when he broke through her virgin barrier and she uttered a little shriek.

Maxwell stopped, allowing his hands to run over her figure lightly, he pressed kisses over her face, her throat, her chest, until she was once again pliant in his arms.

Then he began thrusting again, her body still tight, but more welcoming, and he slid more easily in and out of her, creating a friction of movement that had her shifting restlessly for completion. His own control was fading fast, and he reached one hand down to her curls again, finding the swollen nub of sensitive flesh and rubbing hard.

Elizabeth’s legs quivered, and she moved against him recklessly, eyes locked on his, pleading silently. “Say my name, Elizabeth,” he demanded, voice rough with passion, “Say it.”

“Maxwell!” she cried, and he sent her tumbling over the edge of oblivion, her fingers digging unfelt into the muscles of his back as she shuddered around him.

His essential control vanished with the clenching of her silky walls, and he sunk into her one last time, finding his own release with a hoarse shout.

Minutes, though it seemed like a pleasure-shrouded eternity, later, he came back to himself, sleepy and satisfied. He should get up, go to his own room, but he couldn’t bring himself to move.

His head was resting comfortably on Elizabeth’s breasts, her arms were still around him, and her legs were hooked over his. He was still inside of her. Yes, he should definitely move.

But he didn’t. He was content there, in Elizabeth’s arms, her even breathing lulling him to find his own sleep. He hadn’t really slept in years, and Lawrence had been so bothersome today… He’d move to his own room in a few hours, right now, he just wanted to…

Maxwell woke up to sunlight on his face. He felt extraordinarily well rested and contented. But then he frowned up at the filmy white material of the canopy. Where was he?

He sat up, arms supporting his weight, and his hand came in contact with a stiff spot. He threw the covers back and stared at the spot of dried blood on the sheets. Last nights events came rushing back to him and he looked around wildly. The bedroom was completely empty. Where was Elizabeth?

He frowned and got out of the bed, picking up his dressing robe and putting it on. Then he headed to his own room and started getting dressed. He was tying his cravat when a sound from Elizabeth’s room caught his attention and he flung open the connecting door.

Laurie DuPris gaped at him for a moment, hands full of soiled linens, and dropped a curtsey. “Good morning, your Lordship.”

He gave a curt nod, “Where is my wife?”

Laurie blinked, “Lady Kingston is bathing, my lord,” she told him, sounding bewildered.

Maxwell nodded again, thoughtfully this time. “Then I’ll meet her for breakfast, please tell your mother to set the table for two.” He gave a dismissive nod and left the room.

He sat down at the dining table a few minutes later with a cup of coffee and the morning paper. He was just pouring his second cup when Elizabeth breezed into the room. She walked past him, her clean scent alerting his senses, to the other end of the table, where she sat, not looking at him, a pretty blush staining her cheeks.

Servants stood at attention at the kitchen door, and helped serve the food that just came out. Elsie and Mrs. DuPris came out to check on them and Maxwell sent them, and the servants, away. He needed to discuss something with Elizabeth in private.

Once the room was cleared, Maxwell looked across the table to his wife, who met his gaze shyly. He gave her a smile, “Elizabeth-”

“My lord,” Zanial entered the room, gave a brief bow, and continued, “There’s a dispute in the village that needs your attention.”

Maxwell sighed and looked at Elizabeth. They would have to have this conversation later. “Have my horse saddled, I’ll be right there. Please excuse me, Elizabeth.” And he stood, heading out the door, leaving her staring sadly after him.

[blake]

*Eight*

They were back in London again. The Season would be coming to a close in a few months time, and they would be heading back to Kingston Manor, but Maxwell had felt it necessary to return to Town in order to finish up some business dealings.

Of course, Maxwell always seemed to have business to take care of. She knew he tried to find some time to be alone with her, but something always happened and he’d be torn away by duty.

It got so that their only time alone was at night, when they were consummating their marriage. Elizabeth loved those nights. She loved the way he touched her, the way he kissed her, the way he pleasured her, the way she could pleasure him…

But it was afterward that she loved the most. When he fell asleep in her arms, and she could hold him, and stroke his hair, and whisper to him of her love for him. She lived for the intimacy of those moments.

And she was deathly afraid that they would shortly becoming to a halt, because he would have what he wanted of her. An heir. Elizabeth was positive that she was breeding, and it was rankling on her soul.

“So…”

Elizabeth raised her head, and looked, surprised, into Marianna’s curious green eyes. “So…” she echoed.

Marianna gave an exasperated shriek and leaned forward, eyes twinkling with merriment. “So…How was it?”

“Kingston is perfectly lovely, I enjoyed my honeymoon immensely,” Elizabeth informed her, smiling in remembrance. She and Laurie had ridden all over the lands so that Elizabeth could get a feel for her new home, and they had visited both Milton and Lawrence, and formed a book club to discuss the latest novels, and Elizabeth had met ever so many women with similar interests and had many new friends.

Marianna rolled her eyes, “I wasn’t talking about the trip, I was talking about the…” She leaned forward and Elizabeth leaned toward her, confused. “Consummation,” Mari hissed in her ear.

Elizabeth drew back quickly, heat rushing to suffuse her face. “Marianna!” she exclaimed, shocked.

“Come on, Lizzie,” Mari giggled, “Give us all the details.”

“Please don’t,” Isabella said from her seat in the chair across from the couch where Elizabeth and Marianna were sitting. “I do not need to hear all the ‘details’ about my brother.” She shot Mari an annoyed glance above her teacup, eyes relaying disgust at the topic.

For some reason, Elizabeth found the situation vastly humorous, and began to giggle. She was glad she had agreed to tea at Isabella’s this afternoon, she needed to be with her friends.

“Ignore her,” Marianna advised Elizabeth, smiling a bit her self, “Tell me.”

“I’m not listening,” Isabella sung out, putting down her cup and covering her ears, “I’m not listening.” And she started humming.

Elizabeth blushed again and looked from Bella to Mari. “It was wonderful,” she told her softly, “Maxwell is very considerate, and gentle, husband.”

“But did you have an orgasm?” Marianna demanded loudly.

“I’m not listening!” Isabella cried, glaring at Marianna.

“Yes,” Elizabeth muttered.

“Ah,” Maria sighed, and leaned back into the cushions, “Good for you. And good for Maxwell, too, at least he didn’t royally screw this marriage thing up.” She grinned at Isabella. “We’re done discussing your brother’s sexual prowess now, Bella!” she shouted.

Bella shrieked, and removed her hands from her ears, throwing a pillow at Marianna. “I can’t believe you sometimes, Mari!”

Elizabeth’s friend caught the pillow easily and held it to her chest. She rolled her green eyes at Isabella and stuck out her tongue. Bella responded in kind, but Mari missed it, intent now on Elizabeth. Elizabeth, unsure of why she was under such intense scrutiny, averted her eyes.

“So…” Marianna said slowly.

“Oh, don’t start that again,” Isabella reprimanded.

Mari glared at her, “As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted… So, if Maxwell is such an amazingly good lov-“ she broke off at Isabella’s growl, “Husband,” she amended, “Why do you look so depressed?”

She hesitated for a moment, regarding her friends, both of whom were looking at her with worried expressions. She took and deep breath and looked at them. “I have reason to believe that I may be with child,” she confided.

The two other women blinked. “But that’s fantastic, Elizabeth,” Isabella gushed, “Maxwell will be pleased.”

“I know,” she replied in a small voice, “But once he has his heir, he won’t need me anymore. I won’t even have the nights with him anymore.”

“What do you mean?” Maria asked.

She gave a shrug. “It’s just that I never get to see him in the day time because he always has important duties to attend to, and we only had the…the nights, to be together. And if I am breeding, then he won’t have to spend that time with me either.”

They were blinking a lot again. “You think he’s going to abandon you?” Isabella finally demanded.

“No!” Elizabeth exclaimed, “That isn’t what I meant… I just… I don’t know how to say what I’m feeling. Can we please just forget I mentioned it? Please?” She looked at them pleadingly, until they both gave assenting nods. She took a deep breath, pushing down her insecurities about her marriage, and smiled at them, “Thank you. And please don’t mention this to Maxwell, until I’m sure.” They nodded again, and Elizabeth’s smile widened.

She looked at them pleadingly, until they both gave assenting nods. She took a deep breath, pushing down her insecurities about her marriage, and smiled at them, “Thank you. And please don’t mention this to Maxwell, until I’m sure.” They nodded again, and Elizabeth’s smile widened.

There was silence for a while, Mari and Bella looking at her, and her not looking at them, but them Isabella broke it. “I wish I was with child,” she told them, voice low.

Elizabeth at once felt ashamed for bringing up such a sore topic for her friend. “Oh, Bella,” she crooned, “I’m so sorry-” Isabella waved away her apology. “I’m sure it will happen soon,” Elizabeth consoled her.

Bella shook her head, “Alexander and I have been married for eleven years, and there hasn’t once been the slightest indication to give us hope.” She gave a sniffle and dragged out a silk handkerchief, dabbing at her brown eyes. “I’m nearly thirty!” she exclaimed, “I should have at least three children by now!”

Elizabeth bit her lip and exchanged a glance with Marianna, and both women prepared themselves for the oncoming tirade.

“And you know what the worst part is?” Isabella continued, “Those damn gossip harpies. I hear them all the time, saying how Alexander should divorce me and find a new, young wife, who is obviously capable of bearing him children. Hah! Maybe it isn’t me, do they think of that? Maybe Alexander has the problem. Maybe I should be the one filing for divorce!” The other two women gasped, and Isabella looked at them. “Oh don’t worry, I wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing, think of the scandal…”

“Bella!” Marianna yelled in outrage.

Isabella looked at her calmly, and then broke out laughing. Elizabeth and Marianna just stared at her, open-mouthed. “That was payback, Mari dear, for your earlier chat about my brother.” At the anger rising in Mari’s eyes, she chuckled again. “Really now, Marianna Alehandra Roberta Christianne Josephine DeLuca-Sahn, did you think I meant such nonsense? I love Alexander!”

“Well,” Marianna said, blushing, “Sometimes it’s hard to tell with you Bella. You should have been an actress.”

Brown eyes rolled, “Now that would have been a scandal.” The three of them giggled, and Elizabeth gave her sister-in-law a grateful look, aware that Bella had done a masterful change of topic so that Elizabeth wouldn’t have to deal with Marianna’s pestering.

A knock sounded against the library door. “Come in,” Isabella called. Laurie, whom Elizabeth had brought with her from the Manor to act as personal maid, entered tentatively.

“What is it, Laurie?” Elizabeth inquired, rising.

“We should be leaving now, my Lady, if you want to meet Lord Kingston for dinner back at the townhouse,” she suggested shyly.

Elizabeth looked at the clock in surprise and realized the day had been spent. “Goodness!” she cried, “I really must go.” She smiled at her friends, “Thank you for having me over Bella. No, don’t get up, I’ll see myself out.” She hurried to the door of the library, but paused on her way out and turned back to Mari and Isabella. “Promise you won’t inform Maxwell?”

“We promise,” they chorused.

She sent them another grateful smile and headed to the hallway, where Laurie was waiting with her coat, and then she was on her way home, to her husband.

[blake]

*Nine*

Maxwell looked up from his plate as his wife came hurrying in. She looked rushed, taking off her bonnet as she sat down, her hair stuck in the hatpins and coming out in wisps around her face… His lips quirked upward in a smile, she looked delightfully disheveled.

“I’m sorry I’m so late, my lord,” she apologized, her brown eyes earnest.

He gave her a gentle smile, “It’s quite alright, Elizabeth, I know how my sister and Marianna can be. Did you have a nice time catching up?”

To Maxwell’s confusion, a blush suffused her cheeks, and she looked away from him. “We had a very in depth discussion about the trip, my lord, Mari was most interested in hearing all about…Kingston.” She gave a decisive nod and smiled at him innocently.

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, knowing the pause between her words had had a significant meaning, but he couldn’t figure out what. “Really? She’s never been that interested in Kingston’s affairs before, I can’t imagine why she’d start now.”

The color rose higher and she picked at her food with her fork, still not meeting his eyes. “I do not believe it was the…affairs that she was interested in, but rather…”

She trailed off and Maxwell looked up from his plate sharply, “Elizabeth?” he inquired.

“I…don’t feel…” she finally looked at him, and he was alarmed to see she had lost all her color. She swallowed heavily and one hand moved as if reaching for him, and then she swayed and collapsed, falling from her chair to the floor.

“Elizabeth!” he roared, springing up from his own chair, knocking it backwards onto the ground, and he rushed to the other side of the table, where his wife lay, still as death.

“Lordship?”

Raising his head, he looked above the table, and saw Elizabeth’s maid near the door. “Get the doctor,” he ordered.

Her eyes widened, “Why? What has happened? Is my lady, all right?” The questions were posed to him in rapid fire succession, and he could not get his mind to stop spinning long enough to form a coherent answer.

“Just go,” he commanded again, voice harsh with desperation, “I want Doctor Hardy here in five minutes!” The tone of his voice surprised the blonde, and she whirled, running quickly, and he could hear her calling for Zanial.

He blocked everything out except Elizabeth. He turned her over onto her back, tilting her chin upward so that she could breathe, and then made sure she was breathing, and that he could still get a heartbeat. She was, and he did, though it was too erratic for his liking.

Maxwell scooped her up into his arms and carried her from the dining room, upstairs, to her bedchamber. Very carefully, he laid her petite form on the bed, and made sure she was in a comfortable position. He hovered over her, afraid to leave her, but wanting to know exactly when the doctor arrived.

“Maxwell…” His wife’s eyes fluttered open, and she looked at him, smiling weakly, “Are you all right, my lord?”

He blinked at her, shocked that she was asking about his well being when she was the one who had just fainted. Elizabeth frowned and made to sit up, but he put out a restraining hand. “Lie still, the doctor should be here shortly.”

“I don’t need a physician,” she protested.

He raised one eyebrow and stared down at her in disbelief. “The fact that you just fainted at the dinner table suggests otherwise.”

She blushed, “I had not eaten all day, my lord, no doubt it finally caught up with me.”

“What were you doing not eating?” he demanded.

She looked away from him again, then turned her head back, but kept her eyes on the coverlet. She opened her mouth to speak, but a commotion from outside prevented whatever it was she was going to say.

Maxwell spun and strode toward the door leading to the hallway, and flung it open. Zanial stiffened and gave him a nod. “Doctor Hardy,” he announced.

“Thank you, Zanial,” he dismissed his butler and then turned to the forty-something doctor. “Doctor Hardy, thank you for coming on such short notice, Elizabeth has just woken, but I’d like you to check on her.”

Hardy nodded and moved past Maxwell and into the room. Maxwell prepared to follow, but spotted the maidservant lingering anxiously around the door, trying to peer into the room. She was obviously very loyal to Elizabeth, and Maxwell smiled at the thought of his wife’s virtues, the kindness in her that inspired such devotion.

And then he thought of something. “Laurie?”

The girl looked at him, hands clasped together. “Your Lordship?”

“My wife…She admits she has not been eating. Is this true?”

“No, my lord, she eats, but she can’t seem to keep it down,” Laurie replied, looking sad, “It’s such a shame, for she needs the nourishment now more than ever,” she gazed at him, as if he knew exactly what she was talking about, which he didn’t.

“Why now?” he asked.

She blinked at him in surprise, “You mean, my lady has not told you the good news?”

“What news?” he questioned.

She glanced away from him, avoiding his gaze much as Elizabeth had done earlier. “It would be best it my lady informed you herself, Lord Kingston,” she murmured.

“Inform me of what?” he pressed, voice rising.

Laurie just gazed at him, blue eyes wide, frightened of his tone and the position he was putting her in. Maxwell was about to issue another command of obedience, but Doctor Hardy came out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

“My lord? Might I have a word?” Maxwell nodded and moved toward him, allowing Laurie to flee the hallway.

“Will she be all right?” he inquired urgently.

The doctor was nodding, expression sympathetic. “She’s an extremely small woman, if you’ll excuse my saying so, and that fact will cause complications as she progresses…”

“Progresses in what?” he interrupted, wondering what the devil it was everybody knew, but wouldn’t tell him.

“The pregnancy,” the doctor told him, frowning.

“You mean…Elizabeth is breeding?” Shock coursed through him. His wife was carrying his child, possibly his heir…

“Yes, my lord, and, as I was saying, it will be difficult. I don’t know if she’ll be able to carry the child to full term.” Maxwell glared at the other man, angry with his pessimistic attitude. Elizabeth would be fine, and so would his child. Doctor Hardy seemed not to notice his fierce regard. “She tells me that she’s having trouble keeping solid food down. I would suggest thin soups, broth, to your kitchen staff.”

“Of course,” Maxwell nodded, shifting on his feet and staring at the door hiding his wife from his view. Was she all right in there alone?

“And Lady Kingston should not be subjected to any type of strenuous activity, including parties, riding…” He looked at Maxwell seriously, “And also nightly tête-à-têtes.” He stressed the last, giving Maxwell a pointed stare. “Undue endeavors might cause a miscarriage.” Doctor Hardy was trying to hammer home the dangers, and Maxwell was grateful, but irritated. He could take care of his wife. “I’ll drop by periodically to check up on her Ladyship,” Hardy offered.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Maxwell put in, and began steering the man toward the stairs leading to the front hall, “Your help was much appreciated, and I will take your words to heart. Now,” he gestured down the stairs, “Zanial will see to your payment and schedule a return visit.”

And with that dismissal, Maxwell went back down the hallway and knocked on the white door that lead to his wife’s room. “Come in.”

He entered, and made sure the door was shut firmly behind him, then turned to face her. She gazed back at him, eyes enormous in her still pale face, although he was relieved to note that she had regained some color back. He stalked over the rose colored carpet and stood at the foot of the bed.

It was a four-poster, made of lacewood, and the coverlet was white, with pink roses embroidered on it, and a pattern of golden leaves accented the pale flowers. The sheets were white, the pillows she was propped up on were white and rose pink. It was a very feminine room, Isabella had designed it for Elizabeth in the month following their engagement announcement.

He had to admit that the colors became his wife beautifully, but he gained a sense of satisfaction knowing she was more partial to the chambers he had made for her at Kingston Manor. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he inquired quietly.

“I meant to, tonight, just before I…” she trailed off, “I wasn’t completely sure, but my monthlies have not come, and I am not…myself at times. My body began to feel different, and Doctor Hardy has confirmed my suspicions.” She gave him a large smile, though he noted with some consternation, that it had a quality of sadness about it. “Congratulations, my lord, you will have a child before this year is out.”

A smile graced his lips, and he moved to the side of the bed and sat down, taking her hands in his own. “Thank you for that, Elizabeth,” he whispered, kissing her small hand, and was alarmed when it trembled. “Doctor Hardy has said you should not be subjected to any type of taxing behavior. And since today has already proved eventful, it may be a good idea for you to rest.”

She gave a small nod of agreement, and granted him another small smile. “I am feeling rather fatigued,” she agreed, “If you could send Laurie to me to help me change into my nightdress… I find myself too weak to get into it myself.” She gave a small, self-deprecating laugh, and moved to sit up a bit higher. Maxwell immediately moved to support her.

“I will help you,” he offered. And she looked at him surprised, but nodded in acquiescence.

“Very well, my lord.”

Maxwell was at a loss for a moment, not sure what to do, as he had never helped a woman dress before, but when she started pulling the pins from her upswept hair, he leapt into action.

The pins were dark as her hair, and hard to find, but his hands seemed able, for they found the cool metal among the silky strands easily, and pulled them out as gently as he was able, placing them on the bedspread for the time. He assumed he wasn’t hurting her, as she didn’t make a sound, just sat up, pillows behind her, eyes closed, leaning slightly toward him.

When he had finished the task, her long hair fell in waves around her slim shoulders, and she opened her brown eyes, “Thank you,” she said softly, gratitude in her soothing voice. He nodded and grasped the handful of pins, looking at her questioningly. “The vanity,” she told him, knowing what he was asking.

He got up and moved over to the small vanity against the wall, setting the pins on the white surface, the gold gilding glinting in the setting sunlight from the window. He moved next to the closet, finding one of her nightgowns hanging there, and brought it back to the bed, where she was fiddling with the pearl buttons on her dress’ cuffs.

Maxwell took up one hand, turning it so that he could see the tiny button. Elizabeth met his steady gaze, tears in her eyes, and he understood how frustrated she was at being so helpless. He gently undid the buttons on first one cuff and then the other, and then her moved so that he was behind her.

There was a line of matching buttons going down the back of her dress, along the curve of her spine, which he set about undoing as his next undertaking. He swept her thick hair to the side so that he could reach the top button on the high neckline, and then unbuttoned it, revealing her smooth skin beneath.

His hands trailed down, undoing the buttons in their path, each separation presenting another inch of her olive skin to his view, and Maxwell suddenly became aware of the thick silence, of the sound of Elizabeth’s ragged breaths, and of his own developing arousal.

The move was almost unconscious as he bent his head, his lips moving against the softness of her nape. He heard her gasp, felt her shudder, and her head lolled back in response to the tender caress.

As his mouth traced the curve of her jaw, his hands began to remove the dress from her body, pushing the silky fabric down her arms, away from her breasts…

“Maxwell,” she sighed, turning her head so that their lips would meet. And abruptly he recalled the doctor’s warning, and looked away from her tempting lips, ashamed that he had almost endangered both his wife and his unborn child. “My lord?” He looked back at her, and her eyes were now a mixture of desire and confusion.

His eyes descended to where the material of her dress clung to her skin, her breasts straining against it as her breath came more quickly. He couldn’t stay here with her alone, not like this, it was too much, he wouldn’t be able to control…

He stood, “I’ll fetch Laurie.” He walked swiftly to the door and opened it, not surprised to see the maid pacing at the end of the hallway. “Laurie,” he said shortly. She looked up and fairly ran to him, and then past him, into the room, and to her lady.

He gazed at his wife as the blonde rushed about the room, and she stared back at him. A lost, hurt looking her beautiful eyes that pained him deeply. He shut the door, leaning against the wall outside her room and listening to the girlish murmurs within.

She would bear his child before the year was out. Her small, supple body would grow round as the babe grew within her… And he could not touch her. He could not give in to the urges of his body, urges he could barely control when she was around, when her clean, sweet scent teased his senses, and her body called to him…

No, he raged at himself. He couldn’t think of her like that, not until the child was born and they were both safe. Until then, he would have to stay away from her, away from the force she had managed to put on him…

Maxwell closed his eyes and raised his head. God, give me strength, he prayed, I’m going to need it.

[blake]

*Ten*

Marianna was angry.

And it was all Michael Guerin’s fault!

She had been married at eighteen to a man forty years her senior. She couldn’t complain, Douglas had been very kind, had made no demands upon her due to his physical condition, and had provided for both her and her mother until the day he died of a stroke.

When he died, Marianna had come into possession of the Sahn fortune, hers to do with as she pleased, as Douglas had no living relatives. When he died, Marianna had been forced into the intrigues of Society.

Suddenly, it was as if every male in London was swarming her. They all wanted the wealthy Sahn widow as their paramour. Marianna had been nineteen, overwhelmed, and still a virgin. Her mother, Aimee, also a widow, had never abandoned the titillating scene of the ton, and was involved in an affair with James Shirrif, Lord Valenti, and was away when her daughter’s husband passed away.

As it was, Mari turned to her oldest friends, Isabella and Maxwell Evans, for help. Isabella had been married for two years at that point to the affluent Alexander Whitman, and had enough social status to protect Marianna from various plots for her money and title by the upper class men.

She stayed a widow, and free, for years after that. Until Maxwell came home from traveling abroad, bringing with him an old friend from his school days. The one and only Michael Guerin, Lord of Stonevale. Marianna had fallen, and fallen hard.

Her relationship with Michael was a tumultuous one. He smirked, she glared, he grunted, she insulted, he gave back, she yelled, he kissed, she melted… It was an ongoing cycle, ending in the loss of her virginity and her heart. Her mother hated him, saying he would never commit, that he was a bad influence, but Aimee couldn’t argue with the fact that Michael came from good money, had no reason to use Marianna, and that he didn’t seem to be going away.

But their on again, off again dalliances got to be too much for her. She broke it off, saying she couldn’t deal with it anymore, and he just shrugged and walked away.

So, Marianna did what any self-respecting widow would do. She had a series of affairs. She had been going with Neal Hallstaff, when Michael had showed up on the scene again.

She remembered that night as if it were yesterday. She had spotted Michael the minute she had walked into the ballroom on Neal’s arm. He had been chatting with Isabella and Alexander, and he had looked over, his brown eyes had met her green, and then they had narrowed, coming to rest on her arm linked with Neal’s.

The scowl had not left his face all that night, and Marianna had played it to the best of her advantage, hanging on Neal’s every word, laughing at every joke, dancing much too closely, and Michael’s expression darkened with every succeeding moment.

Finally, in the middle of a waltz, Michael had cut in, whisking her away from Neal, the dance floor, the ballroom, the house, and towards his carriage, his townhouse, and his bed.

She had thought the matter resolved then, and things were again good between them, for a few months at least. He told her he was going away, that his father had disappeared and he had to investigate and manage the lands. He had told her he loved her, and then he had said good-bye.

And he had left, and he sent her no word for months, and she had not been bothered, sure that he would be back. And she had been right, he had come back, and he had not informed her. She had spied a glance of him at one of Isabella’s parties and had been shocked out of her wits.

She had jumped in her carriage and headed straight to the Evans townhouse. Maxwell had been in the library when she came storming in, demanding how long that Stonevale had been back in Town. Maxwell regarded her with amusement and told her two weeks.

She had broken down in tears.

Maxwell, alarmed, called for his mother. Diane had rushed in, took one look at Marianna, and called for tea. Maxwell had left the room, and she and Diane had had a long chat about men and love and how to go about things properly. Lady Diane had been a wonderful woman, Marianna had missed her guidance these past years.

Anyway, they had decided the wisest course of action would be just to ignore him. Marianna had turned her attentions to a Mr. Brody Davis, the curator of the Museum of Scientific Oddities in the Pall Mall. He was a widower, had one child, Sydney, and was infatuated with her.

Michael had countered her act of defiance by paying homage to young Miss Courtney Banks. Rumors circulated around London of when the couples’ impending nuptials would be announced. She, furious, had confronted Michael at his home. There had been a large argument, which ended as most of their fights did, in bed.

She had been angry with herself, and humiliated by her weakness, but Michael had laughed and held her close and informed her that Courtney was a very nice girl, and that she would make Nicholas Crawford a lovely wife. Marianna had just stared at him, open-mouthed, and everything had been all right.

And everything had remained all right for years, occasionally there would be a serious fight, she would flirt with Brody or another man, and he would respond by fawning over some random widow or schoolroom chit, but all and all, everything was normal.

Until now. Now, he had gone too far! It was bad enough he had tried to create that scene at the opera eight months ago, but it was even worse to burst into her drawing room, in the middle of tea, and challenge William to a duel!

William Darden was an old friend, one she had met at thirteen. He had been her first kiss, but he had been poor, and had gone off to make his way in the world when he was fifteen. And he had done it, he was an accomplished musician, and she was very proud of him.

Unfortunately, he had had to leave London with the orchestra and had only just returned to visit with her. They had been catching up when Michael whirled in, hair a mess, his cravat untied, bellowing at William in a most unseemly manner.

They had stared at him in amazement, she had no idea how he had known of William’s presence, until his jealousy led him to the unthinkable and he ordered William to meet him at Layton’s Field at dawn the next morning. She had rose, irate and ready to bash some sense into him, when William had apologized for whatever slight he had made.

“Michael, of course, was completely red at this point, and just glared at William. According to dueling rules, if the challenged party apologizes, the duel is considered over, no shots fired. But Michael, being the blockhead he is, obviously felt this an unmanly way to resolve the issue, whatever the issue supposedly was, and began to sputter about cowardice and such. Well, I just got so fed up, I told him if he didn’t leave that instance I’d challenge him to a duel myself!” She ended her tale with a self-righteous nod, surprised when her companion broke into a fit of laughter.

Marianna stared incredulously at Elizabeth as she giggled helplessly, tears leaking out of her brown eyes. She felt a smile tug her own lips, and soon fell prey to the younger woman’s infectious laughter. “I guess it is a bit funny,” she admitted, wiping tears from her own eyes.

“Oh, Mari…” Elizabeth smiled and took her friend’s hand, “I needed that, thank you.”

Marianna’s smile grew a touch sad as she squeezed the small hand in her own. “How are you doing, Lizzie?” she asked gently.

Elizabeth’s smile grew and she placed her free hand on her round belly. “We’re doing fine, Marianna,” she reassured her friend.

Elizabeth was about six months along, and the Doctor had confined her to her bed for the last three months of the pregnancy. So, instead of Elizabeth coming to tea at Marianna or Isabella’s, which was about the only time Maxwell allowed her out of the house since news of the child, unless he took her for a carriage ride around the park, but those had been infrequent trips, her friend’s came to her.

Truthfully, Mari hated seeing Elizabeth so weak. She was thin and pale, seeming to wane before Marianna’s very eyes. But there was also this light to her, an internal glow that made Mari a little envious. She reached out and placed her own hand on the protruding flesh, hidden beneath a nightgown.

Elizabeth moved her hand slightly. “There, he’s kicking,” she said softly, proudly.

Mari gasped as she felt the light thump against her pressing hand. She exchanged smiles with Elizabeth. “Is it a boy?” she inquired.

“I believe so,” Lizzie replied, her smile wistful, “I hope so…”

There was a timid knock on the door, and it opened, Elizabeth’s serving maid entered carrying a tray. She looked at them with large blue eyes and dropped a curtsey, “Begging your pardon, Lady Sahn, but it’s time for my lady’s dinner.”

Mari gave the faithful girl a smile, and then turned it to Elizabeth as she rose. “I should get going anyway,” she planted a kiss on Elizabeth’s forehead as she leaned back against the pillows, “I visit again tomorrow, darling.”

“Farewell, Mari, make sure you give Lord Stonevale my regards next time you see him.” Marianna shot her a look and got an impish grin in reply.

“You mean, if I start speaking to him again.”

“Of course,” was the laughing answer.

Marianna left the bedroom with a smile and wandered down the stairs at a leisurely pace. Maxwell’s butler was pacing up and down the front hallway. “Hello Zanial,” she greeted.

He looked up at her, black eyes sharp, and tugged at his earring. “He’s in his study,” he informed her without prompt.

Marianna smiled at him in gratitude and headed for the shut door, entering without so much as a perfunctory knock. Maxwell looked up, saw her, and looked back down. “Marianna.”

“Maxwell,” she returned.

There was silence for long moments, Mari walking around, touching this and that, until she sat herself down at the edge of his desk. There was nothing about him that indicated he was uncomfortable. Nothing that is, except the white-knuckled grip he had on the book in his hands.

“How is she?” he finally asked, looking up at her, amber eyes red and pleading.

“Why don’t you go see,” she suggested.

He looked away, the book dropping forgotten onto the desk. “I can’t,” he whispered.

“You won’t,” she countered.

“It’s my fault, Mari,” he rasped, “I did this to her. And I can’t… I can’t see her like that… I can’t see her and know, know I-”

She swore, interrupting him, and he looked at her. “You’re a coward Maxwell,” she stated. His eyes darkened in anger, and he opened his mouth to speak, but she didn’t let him. “You love her, and yet you sit here, wallowing in self pity, when you should be upstairs with her, letting her know you’re there for her.”

She could tell her accusation had stung, but he put up his façade. The one he had never before shown to her or Michael, or Isabella, or Alexander, and the fact that he now did scared her. “You speak of things you have no right to speak of, Marianna.” His voice was flat, hard, and he rose to his feet. “Leave now.”

She stood, hand clasped to her throat, taken aback by his tone. “Maxwell…”

“Now, Mari,” he repeated.

She backed away, toward the door, and stared at him, lit from the back by the fire, and she was frightened. This was not her childhood friend. This was a man hurt in his soul and unwilling to admit it.

“I will leave,” she told him slowly, “But not because you command it, Maxwell Evans, but because Elizabeth is my friend, and you are my friend, and you are not yourself.” She turned, but paused again at the door. “I will forgive you.”

And then she left. Needing to see Michael, to talk with him, to vow her love for him, and to hear the same in return. And she was no longer feeling so envious of Elizabeth.