He had the distinct feeling if he continued to attempt to whittle down her defences he would do more harm than good. Sullen Lizzie was going to be a stubbornly tough nut to crack and therefore Hal would have to use subtle persistence to get her to voluntarily lower the drawbridge rather than a battering ram to breach the enormous walls she had placed around herself. He sat quietly beside her. Just in case she had a change of heart.
After an age, she stood and he watched, fascinated, as her eyes once again sought her father. The sigh of frustration was audible when the Earl of Upminster beamed at her expectantly across the room and beckoned to her to come and meet the gentleman stood ramrod-straight and eager at his elbow. A far more suitable and sensible suitor than Hal.
‘Are you sure I cannot tempt you into an alliance?’
Her step faltered and it was then that he realised he might still stand a chance. ‘Absolutely not. The idea is preposterous.’ But she was tempted. And for now, that was enough.
Her father could barely contain his excitement in the carriage ride home. ‘Although your choice of fellow leaves a great deal to be desired, it was encouraging to see you finally talking to a gentleman, Lizzie. Are you finally warming to the idea of courting again?’
Of course she wasn’t, but she could see the benefits of the outrageous proposal. Having a pretend beau would certainly make the next month bearable. Perhaps refusing him had been a hasty decision? And then again, she had survived five interminable Seasons and five miserable Christmases by herself; she could jolly well manage one last month on her own. ‘It was a conversation, Papa. Please do not read anything more into it than that. I am quite indifferent to the Earl of Redbridge’s charms.’
Besides, Lizzie had already decided never to converse with the man again despite the allure of a month of peace. He had been far too solid and too tall, smelled far too nice and, for some inexplicable reason, he interested her in a way no man had since her traitorous former fiancé. The lack of charm and flattery had been refreshing. A little too refreshing, and she had found herself breaking her own rules by talking to him. And he was astute. He had immediately worked out her father wanted her to wed, yet he had understood her reluctance to comply. Without thinking, Lizzie had let things slip unguarded out of her mouth. At one point, she had to remind herself midsentence that Henry Stuart was cut from the same cloth as Rainham. A handsome rake. A charmer. Something worth bearing in mind when her pulse kept racing every time he had gazed down at her. As soon as she had reassured herself she was still uninterested, talking to him had been almost entertaining.
Almost. Which was a worry.
The man had a very impertinent way of conversing with her which she had decided she did not like. Leaning close and talking in that hushed, deep whisper had made several pairs of nosy eyes stare at them intently. Something which was made all the more uncomfortable by the irritating fact the whispering had been unsettling, too. Lizzie had not been that close to a man since the last time her wretched former fiancé had scrambled down the wisteria and had no desire to ever be again. Unfortunately, her traitorous body seemed to have other ideas and had covered itself in hundreds of goose bumps when his lips had hovered close to her ear. She sincerely doubted her unexpected reaction had anything to do with the Earl of Redbridge, more likely they were caused by five years of blissful isolation from all things male.
‘I know it was just a conversation, Lizzie, however as it was the first conversation you have deigned to grant a man of your own accord in years, and because I saw you smiling once or twice, you will forgive me for marking its significance. Regardless of your indifference towards Redbridge—which I heartily approve of, by the way—your change of heart towards the opposite sex in general warms mine. Who knows? You might meet a nice man whom you are not indifferent towards. I know plenty of sterling fellows who would suit you perfectly. One more suitable than Redbridge, of course, as his reputation is unacceptable.’ His face clouded briefly as they both inadvertently thought of Rainham. ‘I want you to marry, Lizzie. Someone safe and dependable. I promised your mother on her death bed that I would see you settled with a good man after what that blackguard did to you. We both hoped you would find someone sooner rather than later.’
‘But I have no desire to marry anyone, Papa. Mama would understand if she could see how happy Georgie is. Throwing a new husband into the mix at this stage in his life would unsettle him.’
‘The boy needs a father.’
‘No. He doesn’t. And certainly not one who would tolerate him at best, or hide him away on some distant estate at worst. Forgive me for disagreeing—but he does not need a father. He has a wonderful grandfather instead.’
She watched his eyes go all misty for a moment before he cleared his throat to try to disguise his emotion by pretending to clear away a speck of imaginary dust. ‘But I am not getting any younger. You know how much I worry about you being left all alone in the world when I am gone.’ The guilt turned sour in her mouth. He would be devastated when she finally plucked up the courage to tell him she intended to be all alone sooner rather than later and would leave him all alone in the process. They would visit, of course, but it would hardly be the same. ‘And the right husband would bring my grandson up as his own. I would make it a stipulation in the settlements.’
Wouldn’t that be dandy? Poor Georgie’s place in his mother’s house would be an enforced legality and no doubt the source of a great deal of resentment. ‘Does that honestly strike you as the best outcome? Because it doesn’t to me. I am quite capable of looking after myself and my son unaided, Papa. I do wish you would stop worrying about us.’
‘Tell me, Lizzie, as a parent yourself, can you ever envisage a time when you will not be concerned with little Georgie’s welfare?’ He had her there. Probably never was the answer. ‘Now be a good daughter and indulge this old man for once. I know what is good for you and I refuse to give up on your mother’s last wish. You deserve the love of a good man.’ He patted her hand affectionately, his mind made up regardless.
As always. Exactly why she had been forced to go behind his back.
‘I have high hopes of this festive season. High hopes indeed.’ He had kissed her cheek and practically skipped up the stairs to bed. A very bad sign as he had that twinkle in his eye. The one which he always got when he was intent on matchmaking and, as he had only recently increased her dowry, his buoyant mood did not bode well.
More guilt was piled on afresh and she spent all night questioning the logic of her impulsive decision to refuse Redbridge. Such a bargain only served to give her father hope where none existed and that seemed cruel. Being duplicitous, although it was something she had been forced to do for five long years, was not something which sat well with her, especially when she was doing it to her family rather than the rest of the world. However, her father’s attempts at marrying her off were becoming overt in the extreme. Very overt and very extreme. He meant well, she reminded herself. He meant well and he loved her. For that alone she would grit her teeth and endure whatever challenges he threw at her in their final month with as much good grace as she could muster.
* * *
Lizzie managed to catch about two hours of sleep before she was woken at dawn by her maid with a steaming cup of chocolate and a report of the weather. ‘It’s freezing outside, my lady, but it doesn’t look like rain.’
‘Can you tell the nanny to ensure little Georgie is bundled up against the cold and tell her to inform him if he refuses to put on his gloves again then he will not be flying his kite. And I am sure they have already thought of it, but check the carriage is packed with a few
