not the man you thought?"
"Ah, yes—the rogue again." They were on dangerous ground, she reflected. She hated the doubt that pricked like a thorn beneath her skin, and willfully brushed it aside. "Whatever Nathaniel may have been in the past," she said with soft deliberation, "he has changed."
To her surprise, the look he gave her was long and searching. "A word of advice, Elizabeth. Leave here and never look back. Forget you ever met my brother. Believe me, if you don't, he'll make you regret it." He paused. "If you like, I can arrange passage—"
"No. No, I say." There was no question he was vastly perturbed by her vehemence. Lest he grow angry, she took a deep breath and sought to explain. "You once asked if I possessed a fortune. Well, sir, I tell you I do not. I've been disowned, and I would rather not discuss the circumstances right now, if you please. But the fact of the matter is, I cannot return to England."
He didn't bother to hide his skepticism. "Come now. You truly expect me to believe you are destitute?" Four steps brought him within reach. His disdainful gaze swept the length of her, taking in the watered silk day gown she wore. "Yours, my pampered young miss, are hardly the clothes of a pauper."
His mockery cut deep. Perhaps he didn't lie. Perhaps Nathaniel had once been a scoundrel. But surely she was right. Surely it was just as she'd said. He had changed…
To her utter shame, her certainty began to slip away like sand beneath the sea. For just an instant, resentment blazed within her. How she wished she'd never set eyes on Morgan O'Connor!
But the anger she would have welcomed simply would not remain. She began to tremble. Her head began to pound. She raised ice-cold fingertips to her forehead and bowed her head low, feeling perilously near tears.
"Elizabeth? Are you ill?"
His voice prodded her. She didn't see the lean hand that hovered just above the shining coronet atop her head.
Her composure badly shaken, she fought the hot ache that threatened to close her throat. "No," she whispered faintly, hating the betraying wobble in her voice. " 'Tis just that… I came here expecting to find Nathaniel. I never dreamed he wouldn't be here." She shook her head. "You must have some idea where I can find him."
His hand dropped to his side. "None," he stated flatly.
"I—I cannot believe that." Slowly she raised her head, blinking back tears. "There must be something you can do."
The silence dragged on. His thoughts were a mystery to her. He appeared frozen as he stared down at her, his expression as rigid as stone.
She gestured vaguely. "Please," she said, very low. "I am alone here. I have no one else—I can turn to no one else. But… there must be a way to find him." Her gaze locked with his, full of the plea she could no longer hold inside. "Can you help me?
Will
you help me?"
Time spun out endlessly. Her fingers strained against each other. This time Elizabeth didn't look away. But her heart plummeted as she watched his lips thin further, as his features grew ever more dark and forbidding.
His words were not what she expected.
"I know a man…" he began slowly, then stopped. "I will make no promises," he went on. "But I will try."
Elizabeth's lips parted. Dear God, it was all she could ask for! "Thank you," she murmured, and then again, "I—I thank you." She shook her head as if to clear it. "In the meantime, I'll not trespass on your generosity any longer. I shall find lodgings elsewhere until Nathaniel returns."
"There's no need," he said curtly. "Particularly if you are in the financial straits you claim to be."
She felt a warm flush creep into her cheeks. She almost wondered if it was his deliberate aim to embarrass her. She summoned her dignity, for indeed, at the moment it was her most treasured possession.
"I have some money," she told him quietly. "Not a great deal, but enough to—"
"Nonsense. Nathaniel's bride-to-be in a hotel? No. You may stay as long as you like. Indeed, I
"Ah, yes—the rogue again." They were on dangerous ground, she reflected. She hated the doubt that pricked like a thorn beneath her skin, and willfully brushed it aside. "Whatever Nathaniel may have been in the past," she said with soft deliberation, "he has changed."
To her surprise, the look he gave her was long and searching. "A word of advice, Elizabeth. Leave here and never look back. Forget you ever met my brother. Believe me, if you don't, he'll make you regret it." He paused. "If you like, I can arrange passage—"
"No. No, I say." There was no question he was vastly perturbed by her vehemence. Lest he grow angry, she took a deep breath and sought to explain. "You once asked if I possessed a fortune. Well, sir, I tell you I do not. I've been disowned, and I would rather not discuss the circumstances right now, if you please. But the fact of the matter is, I cannot return to England."
He didn't bother to hide his skepticism. "Come now. You truly expect me to believe you are destitute?" Four steps brought him within reach. His disdainful gaze swept the length of her, taking in the watered silk day gown she wore. "Yours, my pampered young miss, are hardly the clothes of a pauper."
His mockery cut deep. Perhaps he didn't lie. Perhaps Nathaniel had once been a scoundrel. But surely she was right. Surely it was just as she'd said. He had changed…
To her utter shame, her certainty began to slip away like sand beneath the sea. For just an instant, resentment blazed within her. How she wished she'd never set eyes on Morgan O'Connor!
But the anger she would have welcomed simply would not remain. She began to tremble. Her head began to pound. She raised ice-cold fingertips to her forehead and bowed her head low, feeling perilously near tears.
"Elizabeth? Are you ill?"
His voice prodded her. She didn't see the lean hand that hovered just above the shining coronet atop her head.
Her composure badly shaken, she fought the hot ache that threatened to close her throat. "No," she whispered faintly, hating the betraying wobble in her voice. " 'Tis just that… I came here expecting to find Nathaniel. I never dreamed he wouldn't be here." She shook her head. "You must have some idea where I can find him."
His hand dropped to his side. "None," he stated flatly.
"I—I cannot believe that." Slowly she raised her head, blinking back tears. "There must be something you can do."
The silence dragged on. His thoughts were a mystery to her. He appeared frozen as he stared down at her, his expression as rigid as stone.
She gestured vaguely. "Please," she said, very low. "I am alone here. I have no one else—I can turn to no one else. But… there must be a way to find him." Her gaze locked with his, full of the plea she could no longer hold inside. "Can you help me?
Will
you help me?"
Time spun out endlessly. Her fingers strained against each other. This time Elizabeth didn't look away. But her heart plummeted as she watched his lips thin further, as his features grew ever more dark and forbidding.
His words were not what she expected.
"I know a man…" he began slowly, then stopped. "I will make no promises," he went on. "But I will try."
Elizabeth's lips parted. Dear God, it was all she could ask for! "Thank you," she murmured, and then again, "I—I thank you." She shook her head as if to clear it. "In the meantime, I'll not trespass on your generosity any longer. I shall find lodgings elsewhere until Nathaniel returns."
"There's no need," he said curtly. "Particularly if you are in the financial straits you claim to be."
She felt a warm flush creep into her cheeks. She almost wondered if it was his deliberate aim to embarrass her. She summoned her dignity, for indeed, at the moment it was her most treasured possession.
"I have some money," she told him quietly. "Not a great deal, but enough to—"
"Nonsense. Nathaniel's bride-to-be in a hotel? No. You may stay as long as you like. Indeed, I
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