The Ideal Bride (6 page)

 
Seated on the opposite side of the table,
 
Elizabeth
 
was engrossed in some discussion, animatedly describing something, hands flying.

 
Michael turned to reply to a question from the countess.

 
He was turning back to Mrs. Driscoll when a sudden peal of laughter drew all eyes—to
 
Elizabeth .

 
The sound was abruptly cut off; fingers pressed to her lips,
 
Elizabeth ’s gaze darted up and down the table. A blush suffused her pale cheeks.

 
One of the Driscoll girls leaned forward and made some comment; Edward Campbell answered and the awkward moment passed. The other diners turned back to their conversations. One of the last to do so, Michael saw
 
Elizabeth , head now bowed, reach for her wineglass.

 
She took a sip, choked—tried to replace the goblet and nearly tipped it over. The clatter and her coughing again drew all eyes. Goblet finally safe on the table, she grabbed her napkin from her lap and ducked her head.

 
Beside her, Campbell patted her on the back; her coughing eased. He asked her something—presumably if she was all right. Her fair head bobbed. Then she straightened, lifted her head, and drew in a deep breath. Smiling weakly around, she breathlessly said, “I’m so sorry—do excuse me. The wine went down the wrong way.”

 
Everyone smiled easily and returned to their discussions.

 
Talking to the countess, Michael found his mind wandering. The incident was a small thing, yet…

 
His gaze drifted up the table to Caro at its end, engaged in what appeared to be a scintillating discussion with the duke and the general. If she had choked… a big “if admittedly, but if she had, he was certain she’d have passed the moment off in a much more charming way.

 
Still, as Caro had said,
 
Elizabeth
 
was young.

 
He smiled at the countess. “I hope to visit your country again in
the
not-too-distant future.”

 
When the company reassembled in the drawing room, Michael continued to observe
 
Elizabeth , but from a distance. She remained surrounded by the younger crew, leaving all hostly duties to her aunt and father, giving him no chance to evaluate her abilities in that sphere.

 
He felt oddly frustrated. Joining that younger group… he simply wasn’t one of them. It had been a very long time since events such as curricle races had dominated his mind. Yet he was determined to learn more about
 
Elizabeth . He was standing by the side of the room, momentarily alone, wondering how best to further his aim, when Caro materialized at his side.

 
He knew she was near an instant before she stopped beside him and claimed his arm. She did it so naturally, as if they were old friends with no social barriers between them, he found himself responding to her in the same vein.

 
“Hmm.” Her gaze was fixed on
 
Elizabeth . “I could use some fresh air and I daresay
 
Elizabeth
 
could, too.” Looking up, she smiled warmly, but there was a determined glint in her eye. “Besides, I want to separate her from that crowd. She really should do the rounds and widen her acquaintance.” Her hold on his arm firming, she arched a brow at him. “Would you care for a stroll on the terrace?”

 
He smiled, careful to hide the depth of his approval. “Lead on.”

 
She did, steering him across the room, with a few glib words extracting
 
Elizabeth
 
from her circle. Still on his arm, she swept them through the open French doors out onto the moon-drenched terrace.

 
“Now!” Walking briskly, whisking
 
Elizabeth
 
down the terrace, Caro studied her. “Are you all right—is your throat sore?”

 
“No. It’s truly quite—”

 
“Caro?”

 
The soft call had them all turning. Edward Campbell looked out from the French doors. “I think you’d better…” He gestured back into the drawing room.

 
“
Peste
!” Caro looked at Edward for a moment, then glanced at Michael, then
 
Elizabeth . Releasing Michael’s arm, she caught
 
Elizabeth ’s hand and placed it on his sleeve. “Walk. To the end of the terrace at least. And then you can return and practice by charming the general for me.”

 
Elizabeth
 
blinked. “Oh, but—”

 
“No buts.” Caro was already stalking back to the drawing room. She flicked a hand back at them, rings flashing. “Go—walk.”

 
She reached Edward; taking his arm, head rising, she swept back into the drawing room.

 
Leaving Michael alone with
 
Elizabeth ; suppressing a grin—Caro was quite amazing—he looked down at her. “I suspect we’d better do as instructed.” Turning her, he started slowly strolling. “Are you enjoying your summer thus far?”

 
Elizabeth
 
threw him a resigned smile. “It’s not as exciting as London, but now Aunt Caro is here, there’ll be lots more happening. More people to meet, more entertainments to attend.”

 
“So you enjoy meeting new people?” A healthy attitude for a politician’s wife.

 
“Oh, yes—well, as long as they’re
young
people, of course.”
 
Elizabeth
 
pulled a face. “I do find ‘making conversation’ with old fogeys or those one has nothing in common with a trial, but Caro assures me I’ll learn.” She paused, then added, “Although I have to say I’d much rather not have to learn at all.”

 
She flashed him a brilliant smile. “I’d much rather just
enjoy
the parties, the balls, the routs and not worry over
having
to talk to this one or that. I want to enjoy being young, enjoy dancing and riding and driving, and all the rest.”

 
He blinked.

 
Leaning on his arm, she gestured widely. “You must remember what it was like—all the fun to be had in the capital.”

 
She looked up at him, clearly expecting him to smile and nod. After leaving Oxford, he’d spent most of his time as a secretary to important men; he had been in the capital, yet he suspected he’d inhabited a parallel universe to the one she was describing. “Ah… yes, of course.”

 
He bit back an admission that it had been a long time ago.

 
She laughed as if he’d been twitting her. Reaching the end of the terrace, they turned and ambled back. She continued telling him of her wonderful months in London, of events and people he didn’t know and had little interest in.

 
As they neared the doors to the drawing room, he realized she’d shown no interest in him—in his likes, acquaintances, his life.

 
Inwardly frowning, he glanced at her. She was treating him not just as a family friend, but worse, as an uncle. It hadn’t occurred to her—

 
“Finally!” Caro emerged through the doors, saw them, and smiled. She glided toward them. “It’s so balmy out here—perfect for a pleasant interlude.”

 
“Ah, my dear Caro, you read my mind—”

 
Caro swung back. Ferdinand had followed her onto the terrace; he broke off as he realized there were others present.

 
She reversed direction, intercepting him. “Mr. Anstruther-Wetherby and
 
Elizabeth
 
have been enjoying a stroll—we were just returning to the drawing room.”

 
Ferdinand flashed his white smile. “
Excelente
! They may go in and we can stroll.”

 
She’d intended to turn him back into the drawing room. Instead, deftly, he turned her. Half turned her—she caught his arm and was about to correct him when she sensed Michael move close.

 
“Actually, Leponte, I believe that’s not what Mrs. Sutcliffe meant.”

 
The delivery was urbane, his tone impossible to take exception to, yet steel rang beneath the words.

 
Mentally rolling her eyes, resisting an urge to pat Michael’s arm and assure him she was perfectly capable of dealing with would-be gigolos like Ferdinand, she shook Ferdinand’s arm, dragging his gaze, belligerently locked with Michael’s, back to her. “Mr. Anstruther-Wetherby is right—there’s no time for a stroll for me. I must get back to my guests.”

 
Ferdinand’s lips set, but he was forced to accede.

 
Knowing he would sulk, suddenly perceiving an unexpected opportunity, she swung to
 
Elizabeth ; her face momentarily screened from both men, she signaled with her eyes, directing
 
Elizabeth
 
to Ferdinand. “You’re looking refreshed, my dear—perhaps you could help?”

 
Elizabeth
 
blinked, then summoned an ingenuous smile. “Yes, of course.” Drawing her hand from Michael’s sleeve, she turned her smile on Ferdinand. “Perhaps you could take me to your aunt, sir? I’ve had very little chance to speak with her.”

 
Ferdinand was too experienced to let his chagrin show; after only the most fleeting hesitation, he smiled his charming smile and with a courtly half-bow, murmured his delight.

 
Ferdinand reached for
 
Elizabeth ’s hand; behind Caro, Michael shifted. It was a tiny movement, but both she and Ferdinand noted it. Ferdinand’s smile took on an edge. Grasping
 
Elizabeth ’s hand, he drew her nearer, settling her hand on his sleeve. “I will do more than that, my pretty one. I will stand by your side and…”

 
Whatever else he planned, Caro didn’t hear as he bent closer to
 
Elizabeth
 
and lowered his voice.

 
Caro knew
 
Elizabeth —and Edward—far too well to imagine Ferdinand would get any joy there, but
 
Elizabeth
 
had the sense to laugh delightedly as she and Ferdinand reentered the drawing room.

 
Feeling quite pleased with
 
Elizabeth ’s performance, Caro turned to Michael, ignoring the irritation behind his polite mask. He was reasonably adept at hiding his emotions, but she was a diplomatic hostess of long standing, ergo an expert in divining people’s true reactions.

 
He was—as she’d hoped—not just frustrated, but puzzled, and starting to be wary. She—they—needed him to reassess; she almost crossed her fingers as she reclaimed his arm. “The duke mentioned he’d like to speak with you again.”

 
Recalled to duty, he accompanied her back into the drawing room.

 
She ensured he was kept busy, away from
 
Elizabeth . Whether he noticed Ferdinand flirting with
 
Elizabeth , who wisely played the innocent, thus encouraging Ferdinand to even greater efforts, Caro couldn’t be sure; the duke truly had wanted to speak with him. Michael had already made the right impression there; they remained locked in serious discussion for some time. While continuing to patrol her guests—there was never any time during diplomatic entertainments when a hostess could relax—she tried to keep an eye on him, yet toward the end of the evening, she suddenly discovered him gone.

 
One quick survey of the room informed her Geoffrey was also absent.