Educating Elizabeth

Chapter 18

"Nicholas, for the last time, go home! I don't need you following me. People are beginning to stare." Elizabeth stopped in the middle of the busy street and frowned. Nicholas had the effrontery to grin and shake his head. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Waterstone, but I'm under the duke's orders. You are to be escorted at all times."

A daring idea came to Elizabeth and she set off again. She spoke over her shoulder as Nicholas struggled to catch up. "I'm going to purchase some garments of an intimate nature and I had hoped to avoid embarrassment for both of us."

She paused outside Madame Isabelle's Lingerie, a shop that the duke had recommended. "Perhaps you would prefer to wait outside? I will only be a little while."

Nicholas hesitated as Elizabeth opened the door, releasing a cloud of heavy perfume. A bell tinkled in the back of the shop and Elizabeth sensed Nicholas was wavering.

"I would hate to have to tell your sister I had seen you in a place like this."

Nicholas slumped against the window with an exaggerated sigh and folded his arms. "It's all right, Mrs. Waterstone, there is no need to bring out the heavy guns. I will wait here."

Elizabeth turned to enter the shop. She paused as Nicholas called out.

"Mrs. Waterstone? In case you have forgotten, the duke's favorite color on you is lilac."

He winked and she frowned before shutting the door on his laughing face. She let out a frustrated breath. Now she would have to buy something. After greeting the proprietor, Madame Isabelle, she picked out a lilac silk bed gown sewn with seed pearls that she knew the duke would like, and went to the back of the shop to try it on.

As she was helped back into her muslin gown she caught the French woman's eye. "Madame, if I wished to avoid the young man who waits for me at the front of your shop, would I be able to leave from a different exit?"

Understanding dawned in Madame Isabelle's shrewd brown eyes. "You have another assignation?" Her surprised glance swept over Elizabeth. "I will continue to bring you clothes to try on, so that the young gentleman will not become suspicious and you may leave and return from the back of the shop."

Madame didn't elaborate, but Elizabeth knew she would be paying for the favor with an assortment of scandalous new lingerie, which would please no one but the duke. She nodded as she placed her bonnet on her head. "Thank you, Madame, I should not be above a half hour."

She picked up her reticule and ran up the hill to Barings Coffee House where she had arranged to meet Jack Llewelyn. When she stepped inside, it took her a while to adjust to the fug of smoke and the dark, stained, oak-paneled interior. She spotted Jack's blond hair in a booth in the furthest corner.

As she approached, he looked up with a wariness and speed that betrayed him as a man of action. When he stood and smiled, his hard face softened. He swept her a bow that was elegant even in his cramped surroundings.

"Miss Waterstone. I thought I had misjudged the time." He withdrew a battered pocket watch and frowned at it. "This watch has never been the same since Salamanca."

Elizabeth slid into the booth opposite him and he signaled for a waiter. He ordered coffee for himself and hot chocolate for her and then sat back and regarded her.

"Michael enjoyed the books, Miss Waterstone. It was kind of you to bring them for him."

"I know how much Michael enjoys to read and how it frustrates him not being able to stroll along to Hatchards or Hookhams to peruse the latest titles."

Jack Llewelyn thanked the waiter and dropped some coins onto the tray as he brought their drinks. "I wanted to talk to you about that. I've seen pictures of chairs with wheels that can be used to take an invalid out to take the air. It would be advisable to purchase one for Michael."

Her hesitation must have shown as he continued, his large hands wrapped around his steaming coffee cup. "I know these chairs are expensive and I will understand if you cannot afford to buy one, but will you at least think about it?" He frowned. "I broached the subject with the Forester's, but they were not inclined to help."

Elizabeth tried to think of what to say. All her available money was already being spent on Michael. "I agree with you, Mr. Llewelyn, but..."

"Please call me Jack. I can't get used to being plain mister again."

"Jack, then, I'm not sure how I will be able to find the money, but I will certainly try." She cleared her throat. "As Michael has probably told you, I work for the Duke of Diable Delamere. I could ask him for an advance on my salary."

Jack frowned. "Don't do any such thing. Once he has a hold over you, you might find yourself performing far more than administrative duties. That man is as cold and ruthless as a shark."

Elizabeth was glad Jack Llewellyn couldn't see the betraying flush of color on her cheeks.

He finished his coffee and his report and got to his feet. "I'm sorry, Miss Waterstone, I have to get back to Michael. No one else will answer his bell."

Elizabeth nodded, accepted his hand, and made her way toward the door. Jack smiled down at her and the sun gilded his hair like an angel's halo. "May I escort you somewhere, Miss Waterstone?"

She pressed his arm. "No thank you. I'm supposed to be shopping and arriving back with you might complicate matters."

He gave her a careless salute and strode off along the road. Elizabeth hastened back to the shop to find Madame Isabelle awaiting her.

"Your young man did inquire about you, but I think I managed to reassure him. Did you accomplish your purpose?"

Elizabeth glanced in the mirror and rubbed a smudge of hot chocolate from her top lip. "Yes, thank you, Madame." She glanced at the huge pile of garments Madame and her assistants were eagerly wrapping up and sighed. "You will have to send the bill to the Duke of Diable Delamere. I certainly cannot afford to pay for all of these myself."

Madame Isabelle gasped and clasped her hands to her bosom. "You are so lucky, my dear. The duke is one of my best customers. He will be delighted with your choices." She frowned and shook her finger at Elizabeth. "A word of advice. If I had known that you were attempting to deceive the Duke of Diable Delamere I would never had aided you. He is far too clever to be misled."

With this last piece of unfortunately true and sage advice, Elizabeth was escorted firmly from the shop, her bags deposited with Nicholas and sent home.

"Can you describe the man to me, Nicholas?"

"He was about your age and had striking blond hair. He had the bearing of an ex-military man. I couldn't get very close to them for fear Mrs. Waterstone might see me. As it was, I barely made it back to the shop before she did."

"You did well, Nick." Gervase frowned down at his gleaming boots. "Return to the coffee house and see if you can find out who this person is. I suspect he is the same man Mrs. Waterstone met in the park a week or two ago."

"Yes, of course, Your Grace. I will go at once."

Nicholas grabbed his hat and coat and rushed into the hall, nearly colliding with Elizabeth as she reached the bottom of the stairs. With a shouted apology, Nicholas sped out the door.

Half-laughing, Elizabeth caught Gervase's eye and shrugged.

He straightened and removed all expression from his face as she came toward him. The slight frown between her brows heightened his concern and tightened his gut.

"Your Grace, may I have a moment of your time?"

At his nod, she sank gracefully into the chair in front of his desk. She wore a soft lilac gown, high to the neck, and her spectacles adorned her nose. His tension mounted as she bit her lip.

"I was wondering if you might give me an advance on my wages."

He stared at her for a full minute before he could bring himself to speak. Of all the things he expected, a plea for money had not been one of them.

"Why do you need money so badly? Your costs cannot be heavy living here, as you do, at my expense."

Her bosom rose and fell as she drew in an agitated breath. "I cannot tell you what the money is for, Your Grace. Can't you just accept that I need it? That I only ask because it is completely necessary?"

Gervase's thoughts flew to the mysterious blond man. Was she being blackmailed? Was that why she was afraid to tell him? He frowned. If she truly worked for Mr. Forester and the French, surely she would be receiving money rather than asking to borrow it.

"Are you in need of my assistance, Miss Waterstone? There is nothing you could tell me that would shock me and I promise to act in the strictest of confidence." Gervase sank into the chair behind his desk and smiled encouragingly.

Unfortunately, Elizabeth glared back at him.

"I will not be manipulated, Your Grace. I'm sure if I were a man you would lend me the money without question, without even asking for repayment. I'm just as capable of sorting out my finances and making my own decisions as you are!"

"If you were a man," Gervase said softly, "You would not be in my employ and we would not be having this conversation." He admired the militant sparkle in her gray eyes and the sharp edge of her temper grazing his will as she shot to her feet. He waved her back to her chair and she subsided with an indignant huffing sound.

"I will think about what you have asked me, Elizabeth, and give you my decision before the week is out." He hoped this would give him enough time to find out exactly what she was up to.

"I suppose that will have to do, Your Grace." She sighed. "Thank you."

"Before you disappear, my dear, it behooves me to remind you of our agreement." She went still and he smiled. "You are not entirely responsible for your own actions are you? You promised to obey me."

"I promised to be directed by you in matters of the flesh, Your Grace. Not in all spheres of my life."

He sat back and placed his hands behind his head, keeping her in view as he stretched. Her gaze followed the flex of his muscled arms and she swallowed.

"Well then, Miss Waterstone, has it occurred to you that there is another way to earn your money? I've had several interested inquiries as to your identity since you appeared by my side. I'm sure that if we put our heads together we could discover a tolerable man to take you on as his mistress. Maybe you could ask him for a sum of money as a gift of good faith to tie the bargain?"

Despite his words, the thought of her with another man caused an uncontrollable jolt of pure possessiveness to uncurl and ripple throughout his large frame. He flexed his fingers in an effort not to reach out and take the words back.

She rose to her feet, her face rigid. She stalked toward him, placed her hands flat on the top of his desk and leaned forward. "You are truly a devil, Your Grace. There is no need to rip up at me because you regret sharing your secrets. I've no intention of using them against you."

Gervase let out his breath as she turned on her heel and marched from the room. Her remarks were ridiculous. He had to find out what she was hiding. It was fast becoming more important to him than the code.

Elizabeth stormed up the stairs and slammed her bedroom door with a satisfying crash. She threw her spectacles to the floor and resisted the urge to grind them into the carpet. How dare the duke sit there with that irritating smile on his face and refuse to give her the money? How dare he insinuate that she should look around for a rich protector? Jack Llewelyn had been right. She should never have gone cap in hand to the devil. Exposing her brother's plight to the duke was unthinkable.

She crawled onto her bed and a rush of unwanted tears overwhelmed her, leaving her gasping and shuddering. But as anger departed, cold logic took its place. The duke was correct. He did have a perfect right to inquire as to why she required a large advance on her salary.

She reached into her pocket, retrieved a fresh handkerchief, and blew her nose. So why had she reacted so angrily when he had suggested a perfectly viable alternative given her supposed choice of profession? She stilled and allowed her true feelings to consume her. Despite all of his warnings, she believed Gervase had come to care for her. She had foolishly begun to imagine a future for them together.

There was also the matter of her desire to experience to its fullest extent the pleasure the duke had shown her. She stared at the embroidered pink roses on her satin counterpane. If she was truly honest with herself, and she must be, she wanted the duke to finish what he had started. If her financial circumstances dictated that she had to leave him, she wanted to experience his lovemaking just once before she embarked on her new career. And it was still the only viable alternative. Breaking code for the government didn't pay half as well.

She traced the intertwining silk yarn, which climbed the stems and thorns of the roses, and made up her mind. She would not ask the duke for money again, but she would ask him to take her to his bed and break their bargain. When she had experienced the best he could offer her, she was sure she could move on to her next rich protector and reap the financial rewards she needed to support Michael.

With her eminently practical decision made, and a small sick feeling in the region of her stomach, Elizabeth slid off the bed and rang the bell. She was anxious to repair the ravages of her crying and eager to put her new plan into action.

She stared into the mirror and wondered why she had the curious sensation that someone was squeezing her heart until she could scarcely breathe.