If she had been anyone else than who she was, he would have married her.

But all the ifs in the world wouldn’t change that he couldn’t trust her.

“She doesn’t need a husband,” Derek replied quietly, thinking about the report on his desk. “I’ve taken care of that.”


~*~*~


Derek saw his brother once a year, which was not at the height of the London Season. Henry normally packed up his brood at Christmastide to make the trip to the estate in Berkshire, the location of the viscountcy seat. But when Derek returned to his residence the day after he’d spoken with Cartwright, he found his brother reclining in his favorite chair in the library.

“What the devil are you doing here?” As much as he loved his younger brother, Derek wasn’t exactly fit for company. He and Cartwright hadn’t parted on cordial terms or spoken since.

And it had been three days since he’d last seen Elizabeth. He hated that that even signified.

His brother pushed his lanky frame from the chair, the same easy grin he’d used to charm his way out of plenty of trouble beamed from his face.

“Hey old man, you’re looking quite prosperous.” He thrust out his hand, which Derek shook as he tamped down a niggling sense of irritation. This old business with Henry was now more than a thorn in his side, it now haunted him.

“As are you. What have I done to deserve a visit?” Derek motioned his brother back into his chair, while he took the one opposite.

“Well, if you want to know the truth, I heard the most ghastly rumor and thought I’d come up and get the truth right from the horse’s mouth—so to speak.”

Elizabeth. There could be no other reason.

When Derek didn’t immediately respond, Henry tilted his head to the side, his dark brow propped high. “Would you like to know what I heard?”

“I’m sure you didn’t come all this way to not tell me.”

His brother abandoned his indolent pose and came forward in his seat. “I can see that it’s true. You are courting the younger Smith girl.” Henry made it an accusation.

Derek didn’t very much care for his tone.

“And if I am?” Derek wasn’t certain he hadn’t said it just to be contrary.

His brother went silent as if his power of speech had suddenly abandoned him. Unfortunately, he found it soon enough.

“Have you gone completely mad, man? After our dealings with that family?” Henry asked, the whites of his eyes clearly visible.

“This matter is none of your concern.” The very, very last thing Derek wished to discuss with his brother was Elizabeth Smith.

Henry’s eyes narrowed. He then asked softly as if his suspicion had not yet been fully realized, “Did you bed her?”

Derek came abruptly to his feet. This discussion was officially over. “I just told you that my relationship with Miss Smith is my personal affair and therefore, no concern to you.”

Relationship. Derek wasn’t sure who was more stunned by his injudicious use of the word, him or his brother. And this after having had her once and knowing her the duration of three weeks.

“Did she tell you that you were her first? I hope you didn’t believe her. Her sister said the same to me.”

It took a moment before Derek understood the full import of his brother’s vehement claim. His mind reeled and his belly lurched sickly. If betrayal had a sound, at present it was buzzing in his ears. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and too controlled. “You told me you hadn’t bedded her. You swore it on our grandmother’s grave.”

A look of sheepishness flashed across his brother’s face. It lasted but a moment. “What else did you expect me to say? I certainly wasn’t going to marry her.” His mouth curled in disdain. “I knew if I told you the truth, you would puff up your chest and lecture me on honor, integrity and that sort of thing.”

Derek clenched his hands into fists, forcibly holding them pinned to his sides lest he strike his brother as he greatly yearned to. Instead he breathed, drawing in large drafts of air into his lungs. “I went to their home, stood in the middle of their parlor and called their daughter a gold-digger—insinuated she was little more than a whore.”

“She was a gold-digger. The fact that I shagged her in no way changes that. I probably wasn’t the first man she’d tried it with. You thought as much yourself.”

Blood rushed to Derek’s head as blinding rage threatened to obliterate his vision. “I believed so based on your word. You swore it had been a kiss and nothing more.” He spat the last two words.

“Good God man, that was six years ago. Why the hell are you getting all heated up over it now?”

Derek stared into his brother’s brown eyes and saw with amazing clarity the type of man he’d become—perhaps had always been—but he, his older brother, had been too blind to see. Selfish and spoiled, a man who lacked the proper moral compass. If he wasn’t his flesh and blood, Derek would have pummeled him to a fare thee well.

“Your behavior was then, and is now, unconscionable.” As admonishments went, Derek’s lacked the frenzied rage one might expect given the seething anger inside him.

His brother stared at him for several moments, clearly puzzled by his reaction. Then his brows smoothed and the semblance of smile angled the corners of his mouth upward. “You care for her,” he whispered as if voicing an astounding revelation.

Denial sprang immediately to his lips. Derek opened his mouth to issue it with emphatic conviction when an image of Elizabeth, naked with rose-tipped breasts and passion glazed eyes, pushed unwanted into his thoughts.

The silence that followed was its own response.

Henry shook his head, his expression bemused. “By God, I was right. You’ve gone and fallen for the chit.”

It happened before Derek could stop himself. His fist met his brother’s jaw with a thud. There was a roar of pain and then Henry staggered back several steps, his hand cradling the left side of his face that in minutes would begin to swell and distort as bone crunching blows tended to do.

“Bloody hell, Derek, what the devil!”

His brother look bewildered as if all he’d done shouldn’t have given Derek cause to lay him low even before he had the temerity to speak of Elizabeth in such disparaging tones. To speak about her as if she was some insignificant piece of baggage who didn’t deserve respect.

“You had that coming. Consider yourself lucky that you’re my brother or I would’ve broken your damn jaw.” And he could have hit him a great deal harder.

“Make certain you’re not here when I return.” With that and sore reddened knuckles, Derek stalked from the room.


Chapter Ten


Elizabeth’s mother stayed, taking up the role of her chaperone until the family returned from Devon where Lady Armstrong had given birth to a baby girl.

They attended two balls, one excessively stuffy supper party and saw a comedy at Drury Lane. Derek had been notably absent from all.

Elizabeth didn’t see him anywhere.

He hadn’t been with Lord Alex when he’d come to visit James. And from the idle talk she’d heard at the balls, it appeared he’d suddenly and completely dropped out of society.

Elizabeth tried very hard not to think on it too much. Unfortunately, trying did not guarantee success. Her heart literally ached and an indescribable feeling of loss swamped her.

Her cousin’s twins, two-year-old Jason and Jessica took to her mother immediately. And who wouldn’t? She spoiled them terribly buying them toys and sneaking them treats from the dessert cart after they’d already been put to bed.

On the fifth day of her visit, her mother announced she’d be returning home the following day. She claimed she must to ensure her husband—who had trouble discerning green from blue—didn’t instruct Mr. Birch, the house decorator, to paint the guest chamber a perfectly objectionable color.

With a promise to return to escort Elizabeth home, which was little over a week away, she was off and everyone was genuinely sad to see her go.

The evening following her mother’s departure, Elizabeth went to Lady Templeton’s ball with Charlotte, Catherine, Missy and James, determined to enjoy herself. It was looking more likely than naught, that this ball would be the last of the few to which she would be invited.

They were there a full half-hour when Derek strode through the towering ornate doors of the ballroom.

Elizabeth inhaled sharply and released it on a prolonged sigh. Relief, anxiety, anticipation and heartbreak mingled in one breath.

She ate him up with her eyes; with the sort of gluttony that brought her both pain and pleasure. She watched the way his loose limbed strides covered the floor. She devoured his fine form. Things she ought not to be doing if she possessed any sort of restraint or self-preservation.

He stopped to greet their hostess, and something in that greeting gave the impression of warm familiarity. It was in the way Lady Templeton touched his arm and his amused laugh when the marchioness whispered something in his ear.

Lady Templeton was incredibly lovely, blond and quite buxom, but she was old enough to be his mother. And she was married.

Jealousy pecked with woodpecker glee at her insides. Elizabeth quickly averted her gaze from the sight of the two together, forcing herself to concentrate on Catherine, who currently carried on a conversation with Miss Dawn Hawkins.

But try as she might, Elizabeth found it impossible to follow their conversation. Her thoughts and gaze kept drifting to a Lord Creswell, who was devastatingly handsome clad in his white cravat and black tails.

He turned, his gaze searching the room until he found her, and there it settled. He said something to the countess and started toward Elizabeth, his long purposeful strides closing the distance between them rapidly. All this he did without once removing his gaze from her.