The Wedding Trap (34 page)

Swinging her legs out of bed, she crept to the door. Easing it open, she gazed out.

The hallway stood in shadow, dark and utterly devoid of life.

Closing the door, she padded back to her lonely bed.

Only a dream,
she mused.

Who had she thought it was? Kit come to tell her he loved her and they must be wed, after all?

A hollow laugh erupted from her throat, quickly turning into a sob.

Burying her face in her pillow, she wept.

“More tea, miss?”

Eliza gazed up from her ruminations, realizing she had been woolgathering again. “Yes, thank you,” she told the young footman, waiting while he filled her china cup with the steaming, delicately flavored brew.

She turned her attention back to Adrian and Violet’s breakfast table conversation, relieved neither of them seemed to have noticed her brief lapse. Lifting a buttered triangle of toast to her mouth, she ate a bite, then set the slice aside, wanting no more.

Violet’s gaze shifted her way. “Is that all you are going to eat? You’ve barely touched your meal.”

“Sorry. I don’t know why, but I’m just not hungry this morning.”

“You haven’t been hungry the last few mornings. Is anything amiss?”

Eliza forced a reassuring smile. “Of course not. I am perfectly well.” She lowered her voice and leaned toward Violet. “Just that time of the month,” she whispered.

“Oh,” Violet said, obviously sorry to have pried in so public a forum.

Adrian, ever the gentleman, turned a page of his newspaper and pretended he hadn’t heard a thing.

Violet sent her a bolstering smile, then gently moved the conversation on to safer topics. Eliza sipped her tea and let her friends talk, doing her best to ignore the dull cramping settled low in her belly.

Right on schedule, her flow had arrived this morning. She’d burst into tears when she’d realized, a stupid reaction since a baby now would have proven a disaster, forcing Kit to offer his hand again and her to accept this time. She ought to have been relieved since she did not want a marriage based on necessity and obligation, no matter how much she loved Kit.

And yet irrational as it might seem, the news had hit her like a small death. What she and Kit had together was through. Even their passionate, clandestine encounters were over. She could excuse her earlier actions as a kind of naive insanity, fueled by love and youthful ardor. But to ever find herself in his arms again would make her something far different, and far, far worse.

Of course, now that he had lain with her, whatever sexual appeal she had held for him might very well be gone. She had heard whispers that men could be like that sometimes. And Kit had never struck her as a constant lover, having watched him over the years flit from girl to girl like a bee gathering pollen.

Over the three short days since their night together in the study, she had barely seen him. Both of them were admittedly busy with social engagements, but not so much so that their paths would not have crossed at all. She wondered if he might be avoiding her.

The only thing she knew for certain was that he did not love her.

Cruel as it might seem, it was the truth.

So she must accept the fact, put away her foolish, idiotic dreams and move on.

Misery engulfed her.

She never should have done it, she chided herself. Never should have risked her heart on such an unlikely chance at love. What had she been thinking, to place herself in such jeopardy again, when she’d barely managed to recover from the first time he’d stolen her heart?

Gazing across the breakfast table at her friends, a harsh stab of envy rose inside her.
Look at them,
she thought.
So happy. So perfectly suited to each other. Their union rooted in friendship and respect, and above all else, a deep, abiding love that will last them all the rest of their days.

Why couldn’t she have that? Why couldn’t Kit love her? If not with his whole heart, then at least a little. Just enough to let her pretend his proposal had been motivated by affection instead of duty.

Seconds later, Kit strode into the room. Her pulse jittered as he paused just inside the doorway. Immediately he fixed his gaze upon her, his lips curving upward, warm and tender. The power of his beautiful smile impaled her to the core, as if he’d tossed a lance straight through her heart.

She did not smile back.

Lowering her eyes, she lifted her teacup to her mouth and forced herself to swallow a sip that very nearly made her choke.

What did he think he was doing? Smiling at her like that?

“Good morning,” he greeted in a sunny tone.

Adrian and Violet offered up pleasant replies.

Eliza mumbled a response, then pushed a cold toast half, with its smear of congealed butter and jam, around in a circle on her plate.

She heard him cross to the sideboard, take a plate and begin helping himself to the tempting array of offerings carried up from the kitchen.

Meanwhile, the young footman came forward and set a fresh china cup and saucer in the place directly to her left.

She wanted to protest. Why couldn’t a seat be arranged on the opposite side of the table, beside Adrian? She did not want Kit sitting so near.

The servant moved away but quickly returned, pouring steaming coffee into the cup, the staff aware that Kit generally preferred a more robust beverage than tea in the morning.

Kit crossed and set down his plate, heaped with food. “Shall I bring anyone anything while I am up?” he offered.

His brother and sister-in-law both declined with appreciative refusals.

Kit inclined his head toward her. “Eliza? What about you? There are some very delectable-looking red raspberries. I know you’ve a partiality for them. Why don’t I bring you a dish?”

She made herself lift her chin. “My thanks, but no.”

“Are you sure? I tasted one and they’re very sweet. Let me get you a few.”

Her brows drew together.

Why was he being so conciliatory? she wondered. Was he trying to smooth the way between them again? Did he imagine they could be friends? That they could put their intimate relationship aside and forget they had ever lain naked in each other’s arms?

Well, she could not forget. Nor could she be his friend. Not anymore.

Suddenly, desperately, she had to get away.

Tossing down her napkin, she jumped to her feet. “If you will excuse me, I need to go to my room. I am driving out with Mr. Vickery today and need to change my attire.”

Violet sent her a look of concern. “Oh, of course, do run on. It is quite all right.”

Without glancing again at Kit, Eliza hurried from the room.

As she departed, she heard Kit demand to know what was wrong. She didn’t wait to hear Violet’s reply.

Kit cooled his heels for nearly two hours before Eliza finally emerged from her room and came down the stairs.

She looked as lovely as a crisp autumn morning in a marigold-colored carriage dress, a small, delicate bonnet with a whimsical little feather perched coyly atop her brunette curls.

For a moment, he had to remind himself to breathe, had to caution himself not to sweep her close inside his arms and give her the sort of thorough kissing a woman of her undeniable appeal deserved. Instead he folded his arms across his chest and finished watching her descend.

Her gait slowed for a moment when she saw him, but she recovered nicely, barely pausing as she navigated the last few steps.

He waited until she stood next to him at the base of the staircase. “Eliza, might I have a word?”

She glanced across the immense entryway toward the front door. “Lord Vickery is due to arrive any moment, so I don’t believe—”

Annoyance set lines across Kit’s forehead. “Vickery can wait.”

Without asking further permission, he placed a hand on her elbow and turned her toward the study. He could have chosen the salon, Kit knew, instead of revisiting the scene of their recent wayward night together, but decided the smaller room would allow them easier privacy.

She balked for an instant when she noticed where he was taking her, but quickly gave up any attempt at resistance and followed along.

Once inside the room, he closed the door behind them.

As soon as he did, she slipped free of his hold.

He decided to make no comment about the distance she placed between them, gathering himself to ask the question uppermost in his mind.

Eliza lifted a brow. “What is it you wish to say to me?”

The pendulum of the room’s tall, corner clock swung in a placid rhythm, its pace at complete odds with the emotions warring inside him.

“That I was worried, for one,” he began. “Considering how you rushed out of the breakfast room this morning, I wondered what was amiss. Violet tells me you are unwell, but she was very vague on the particulars.” He met her gaze. “I know it’s only been a few days, but do you know already? Are you carrying my child?”

Before she could speak, he hurried on. “Because if you are, we must marry quickly. That way no one will even suspect you conceived prior to our marriage. A week one way or the other will make no difference at all. I shall apply for a special license this very afternoon.”

The feather on her hat bobbed gently as she shook her head. “You have no need to procure a license, special or otherwise, since your assumptions are incorrect.”

“What?”

She averted her gaze and traced a fingertip over a golden ribbon decorating her sheer silk spencer. “My monthly arrived this morning, and that is why I am not feeling my best. You may rest easy in the certainty that I am most definitely not with child.”

“Oh.”

He stood unmoving, momentarily nonplussed by her statement. In the hours since Eliza had left the breakfast room in such haste, he’d convinced himself she was pregnant and that they must marry, after all. He’d had everything planned, down to taking her to a summer cottage in Middlesex, where they would spend their honeymoon, and share endless nights of passion before returning to set up their new household.

But she said there was no child.

Tension leeched out of his shoulders, muscles he hadn’t even known were knotted suddenly easing. Yet to his dismay, the overriding emotion he felt was not one of relief, but of disappointment.

He scoffed at the idea, telling himself not to be a fool. Surely he hadn’t actually wanted her to be with child? And it was ludicrous to imagine he had been genuinely excited by the prospect of making her his bride.

“That’s good, then, is it not?” he stated with forced cheer.

“Yes,” she said in a low voice. “Quite the best possible outcome.”

Tugging at her gloves, she refastened a tiny, pearl button at one wrist. “Lord Vickery must have arrived by now. I should not keep him waiting any longer.”

“No, I suppose you should not.” He reached out and wrapped a palm around her arm. “Are you sure, Eliza?”

Her gaze flew upward to meet his. “About what?”

“About us? About your decision that we not wed. I realize there is no baby, but still…”

A faint light softened her dove-colored eyes. “Yes?”

“I don’t feel easy knowing I have compromised you. I was supposed to be your mentor, your protector. Instead I let desire get the best of me. I robbed you of your innocence.”

The light winked out inside her eyes. “It was my innocence to give, and I gave it freely. You need not suffer any guilt.”

“Yes, but—”

She blew out a breath that sounded almost angry. “Pray do not act the martyr, Kit. It is a role that does not suit you well. Now, I have a carriage ride to take.”

Pointedly, she gazed down at the hand that held her arm.

Relaxing his grip, he let her move away and step toward the door.

Following behind, he trailed her into the hallway, watching as she welcomed his friend with a warm smile and a very pretty greeting.

A skillful trick, he realized. One of the many he had taught her.

Vickery glanced up and saw him, and nodded his head. Kit strode forward out of obligatory politeness, and stood in the entryway while they exchanged a few pleasantries.

Eliza looked as if she hadn’t a care in the world, as if the two of them hadn’t just been closeted inside the study discussing topics that would have scandalized most genteel young women.

Is that what he had brought her to? The prime lesson she had learned at his hand? How to dissemble? How to lie and pretend with the rest of Society’s shallow brethren?

He didn’t like it, didn’t like it at all.

Nor did he enjoy the sight of her a minute later as she offered him a sunny farewell, then turned and strolled from the house on Vickery’s arm.

Chapter Twenty

The next two weeks flew by as if borne aloft on wings.

Determined not to give in to her own inner agony, a secret despair that hovered just beneath the surface, Eliza threw herself into the social fray with unheralded enthusiasm. Accepting as many engagements as possible, she kept busy from morning to night. Sparing herself no extra moments, she would find herself so exhausted by the time she laid her head upon her pillow that her body and mind had no choice but to let her sleep.