Lawrence Fitzwilliam, Viscount Brantworth, eldest son of Lord Matlock, sat in the breakfast room of Greyston Manor and closed his eyes against the brightness of the morning.
“Tell me I did not kiss a chicken, this time, Richard,” he moaned. Slowly he opened his eyes and adjusted them to the stabbing rays of light from the early morning sun which shone through the great windows. It had been a late night of celebrations due to the wedding which would happen on the morrow, and Lawrence was feeling the pronounced effects of too much imbibing.
Richard chuckled and stabbed a thick slice of ham with his fork. “No, you did not kiss a chicken.”
“Did I ride a pig?” Lawrence scrubbed his face with his hands trying to wash away the feeling of fog.
Richard shook his head. “No, you did not ride a pig.”
“So I did nothing embarrassing? I did not accept any of your absurd wagers?” Lawrence knew that, almost without fail, a night of revelry with his brother lead to some embarrassing tale to tell usually with himself as the chief player, since Richard knew that when thoroughly soused Lawrence would accept the most ridiculous of wagers.
Just last year at Lord Greyston‘s house party, Lawrence had accepted three such wagers and had walked a fence rail while wearing a bonnet, kissed a chicken, and ridden a very portly and not too pleased pig.
Richard raised a forkful of ham in the air and punctuated of whom he spoke with his knife. “I did not have to wager anything to make you look the fool, brother. You seemed bent on accomplishing the task on your own.”
Lawrence groaned and sipped his strong, black coffee. “What did I do?”
Richard chewed his food slowly and studied his brother. “You do not remember any of it?” he asked, a teasing smile on his face.
“Would I be asking if I did?” Lawrence snapped. His head was pounding, and he had little patience for Richard’s jesting.
Richard refilled his cup of coffee, added a bit of cream, and stirred, clinking his spoon rather loudly against the sides of the cup and earning a scowl from his brother.
“Perchance you are suffering enough. Shall I relieve you of your curiosity?” He studied his brother for a few moments longer.
“I can assure you, my suffering is sufficient, Richard. Would you kindly inform me of my actions?”
“You know you really do not sing well, and brandy does not improve your abilities.”
“I sang?”
Richard nodded. “Beneath a young lady’s window.” He leaned forward, rested his elbows on the table, and supported his chin on his clasped hands. His lips twitched at the dismay which registered on his brother’s face.
He knew he was enjoying his brother’s discomfort far more than he should, yet he continued, “Apparently, she is a lady of good musical sensibility and did not seem to care for your croaking, if I can call it that without offending any of our amphibious friends, as she rushed outside to beg of you to stop.”
Lawrence dropped his head into his hands and groaned. “And did I?”
“Aye, you stopped singing, but you were by no means ready to quit your display of affection for the young lady.”
Richard sipped his coffee and watched as Lawrence’s shoulders drooped and his head sank further towards the table. “No, you thought it an excellent idea to declare yourself to her.”
Lawrence’s head snapped up. “I made an offer? To a young lady?”
Richard laughed. “Yes, to a young lady. No barnyard creatures were involved.”
“So, am I to be leg-shackled?” Lawrence’s eyes were wide in horror. “Is she at least pretty?”
Ignoring his brother’s first question, Richard replied, “She is very pretty.”
“Am I to be leg-shackled?” Lawrence repeated. “Did she accept my hand?”
“I shall not answer that, nor shall I tell you her name.” A snicker escaped Richard, and a roguish smile spread across his face. He placed his cup on the table and leaned toward his brother. “I have reconsidered. You are not suffering quite enough for my enjoyment.”
Lawrence growled. “I shall return the favour, mark my words.”
Richard laughed. “My enjoyment of your current situation shall be worth the price, I can assure you.”
Lawrence opened his mouth to retaliate, but closed it again as Elizabeth, wearing a simple grey day dress and carrying her bonnet, entered the room.
“Good morning, Miss Elizabeth,” Richard said as he and Lawrence rose to greet her.
“Good morning, Colonel.” She smiled knowingly at him and proceeded to fill her plate from the sideboard. When her plate was filled, she placed it on the table next to Lawrence and then, with a quick look about the room, placed a light kiss on his cheek. “My lord, it is good to see you this morning.”
Lawrence’s eyes lit with understanding. “Richard, did I…?”
Richard bit the sides of his cheek to keep from laughing at the look of shock on his brother’s face and shrugged.
“Did you what, my dear?” Elizabeth rested a hand on Lawrence’s arm.
“I, uh, I,” he faltered. “I do not remember all of what I did or said last night. I was merely inquiring of my brother about my actions.”
“Surely you remember your visit to my bedroom window?” Elizabeth turned imploring eyes upon the poor man.
Lawrence looked only for a moment into her eyes before dropping his and replying. “I am afraid I do not remember visiting you at all.”
Seeing him peek up at her to gauge her reaction, Elizabeth furrowed her brow and pouted slightly for a moment before brightening. “It matters not. An offer is an offer, and there were witnesses.” She spread preserves on her roll.
“However, I have not yet reached a decision. I do hope you can be patient. After all, your proposal did come as quite a shock. I cannot say I ever expected you to hold me in such high regard.” She looked across the table at Richard, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Lawrence sat in stunned silence.
“Good morning, my sons.” Lady Matlock entered the room accompanied by her husband as well as Lord Greyston and his betrothed.
“I say, Lawrence, you are looking a bit pale this morning. I do hope you are not becoming ill. Who shall stand up with Greyston if you are unwell?” She laid a hand on his cheek and then his forehead.
“You have no reason to fear, Mother. I am well.”
“I am glad to hear it, Lawrence. It is a mother’s job to worry about her child.” She winked at Elizabeth before turning to Juliana Lawson, Elizabeth’s dear friend and Lord Greyston’s betrothed. “Juliana, what was that lovely song we heard last night?”
Juliana looked at first Elizabeth and then Lady Matlock. “While it may be a lovely song, the performance was lacking.” The ladies laughed.
“Ah, but it is such a sweet love song, and our Lizzy is a very lucky girl to have it sung for her,” said Lady Matlock moving to stand at the open window, teacup in hand.
“Does everyone know of this?” asked Lawrence.
“Aye,” said his mother. “And we eagerly await Miss Elizabeth’s decision.”
Lawrence sank back in his chair looking ashen.
The small demanding hand of guilt tugged at Elizabeth’s heart. She leaned close to Lawrence and whispered. “Perhaps we should speak somewhere that is not so crowded?”
Lawrence sighed in relief as he stood and offered a hand to Elizabeth. “Shall we take a tour of the gardens this morning, Miss Elizabeth?”
“A lovely idea, my lord.” Elizabeth grabbed her bonnet and placed her hand lightly within his.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Reaching the garden, Elizabeth managed to guide Lawrence to a bench which was within sight of the window occupied by Lady Matlock.
Elizabeth smoothed her skirts and laid her bonnet on her lap. “I refused your offer last night.”
“You refused? Last night? But, you… and they…” he stammered.
“Your father and brother thought your discomfort would be diverting. They insisted I not inform you of my decision until this evening.”
“They wished to see me uneasy for a full day?” Lawrence’s voice was tinged with anger.
Elizabeth raised a teasing eyebrow. “The thought of marrying me makes you uneasy, my lord?”
“Not the thought of marrying you, Lizzy.” Lawrence smiled at her sheepishly. “The thought of marrying anyone makes me uneasy. However, I will own the thought does not make me as uneasy now as it once did. As my mother keeps telling me, I am not getting any younger, and I have a duty to the title.” He shrugged. “And there are times, such as when I am rattling around Brantworth with only servants for companions or last night when faced with the obvious happiness of yet another friend who is to be married, I begin to feel quite lonely and wish for someone with whom to share my life.”
“You considered me an alternative to being lonely?” Elizabeth spoke softly.
“I suppose I did.” Lawrence took her hand. “A man could do worse than to take a beautiful, witty young lady with the most enchanting eyes as his bride.”
Elizabeth blushed.
Lawrence dropped his voice to almost a whisper. “Elizabeth, why did you refuse me?”
Hearing the note of pain in his voice and wishing in some small way to comfort him, Elizabeth covered his hand with her free one. “You were foxed, my lord. Remember, Juliana and I were at Lord Greyston’s house party last summer. I know you accept ridiculous wagers when you are in such a state. It was my bonnet you wore as you walked the fence.”
Lawrence winced in remembrance. “And if I had not been so far into my cups? Would you have still refused me?”
Elizabeth gave his hand a squeeze. “Yes, my lord, I would have still refused because we would not suit. You will one day sit in the House of Lords, and you will need a wife who is happy to play her role within the ton. I am not that lady. I do not enjoy such society, and my ideas and opinions make me something of a bluestocking.”
Lawrence sighed. “I will not lie, Elizabeth. There is a part of me that wishes you were that lady, but I know you are correct. We would not suit. We are friends, very good friends, and perhaps we would one day grow to care for each other as something more, but that is not what you deserve. You deserve to ardently love and be loved.” He gave her a weak smile.
“And you deserve the same. You shall always be as close to me as I imagine a brother would be, but brothers and sisters should not marry.” She gave him a playful smile.
Lawrence laughed. “Indeed, they should not.”
“They may, however, enjoy a joke together?” The familiar sparkle of mischief danced in Elizabeth’s eyes.
“Indeed, they may. What had you in mind?”
“You will need to remove your coat and hat, my lord.”
She beckoned to two servants who stood near the edge of the house as Lawrence laid his hat on the bench and shrugged out of his coat. He recognized the young man as Greyston’s gardener. The young woman he had seen working in the kitchen.
“It seems,” explained Elizabeth, “your mother was rather displeased with the idea of allowing you to languish in uncertainty, and she and I have devised a plan to justly punish your tormentors. Jack and his wife, Ruth, are going to assist us with our plan.”
Jack slipped into Lawrence’s coat and donned his hat while his wife tied on Elizabeth’s bonnet. Quickly, Elizabeth pulled Lawrence below the open window and behind a bush before Jack signaled to someone in the house.
“Henry, Richard, come quickly!” Lawrence heard his mother calling his father and brother to the open window. “Look! Look at your son and Miss Elizabeth. In broad daylight, no less. He shall have to marry her now.” Lawrence laughed as he noted the young couple kissing quite passionately on the bench in the garden and listened to the expressions of disbelief which floated down from the window above.
Elizabeth’s shoulders shook with silent laughter.
“Is no one going to stop them?” demanded Lord Matlock.
“Lawrence. Elizabeth.” Lady Matlock called through the open window. “Well, calling to them does not seem to be working. You will have to go out there, my dear.”
Lawrence and Elizabeth heard grumbling and stomping as Lord Matlock and Richard left the breakfast room.
“You may show yourselves,” called Lady Matlock through the window. “I do believe, Elizabeth, we have made our point about who is best at playing tricks on poor unsuspecting men.” She laughed. “However, I will not always be on your side in these things if you continue to over indulge in spirits, Lawrence,” she warned. “I do hope you have felt some of the sting of this morning’s theatrics?”
Lord Matlock and Richard halted on the path; their expressions slowly turned from incredulity to annoyance when they saw Lawrence and Elizabeth standing below the window. “What is going on here?” Lord Matlock roared as he looked between his son and wife.
“I think Mother can explain,” said Lawrence. “Shall we finish our stroll, Elizabeth?” He gave a wave to his rather red-faced father and amused brother as he led Elizabeth down the path.
“You know, my lord, marrying a viscount would have been a very advantageous match for me.”
“And a very disadvantageous one for me—imagine the devious scheming you and my mother could do.”
Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. “Perhaps, I should reconsider my answer, my lord.”
“Oh, no,” said Lawrence. “You have given your answer, and I withdraw my suit. Your brilliant, mischievous mind shall belong to another, not me.”