The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2(149)

"If you need a Tony Lumpkin I'm at your service," Parks offered.



Will grinned. "What part did you play, Lady Elizabeth?"



"I was Miss Hardcastle."



"In that case I simply must be your Mr. Marlow," Fitzsimmons interjected before anyone else could say a word.



"But Vanessa and Clifford also had parts—" Elizabeth tried to say in an effort to dissuade him.



He waved his hand airily. "They must have been Hastings and Miss Neville. So Marlow's part, and his luck with a lovely lady such as yourself must be mine."



"Oh, no really. Perhaps you might like to-"



"So long as you have a book, I can play whatever part you like," Parks said, to try to cover up her embarrassment.



"Thank you."



"We shall settle it later, my dear," Fitzsimmons said mildly.



But Elizabeth could tell he was determined to get his own way in being the romantic hero in more ways than one.



Wasn't this what she had wanted, a more strong pressing of her mysterious lover's suit? Why then did she feel so, so trapped? Cornered all the time? Flustered, on edge. Off balance whenever any of the three men were around?



"We shan't have time for the whole thing. Just Act One will suffice," Thomas said when he saw her sister's high colour.



Fitzsimmons grinned. "A pity, but I shall still look forward to it."



Some of the more racy lines and actions in the play came to mind, and she blushed again. Really, was this another hint as to his identity?



She simply couldn't be sure of anything at the moment, least of all her own feelings, much as it pained her to admit it. She had gone from having no beaux, to one vibrant shadowy one, to four or five in the space of only a couple of days.



As she stood there in confusion, she felt a warm hand upon her arm, and jumped.



"I shall seen you anon, my dear Lady Elizabeth."



"Oh, er, yes, Sir Wilfred, at four, if you please."



"I would be pleased if you called me Mr. Joyce, or Will. Sir Wilfred was my father, poor man."



"Oh, er, yes, er, Mr. Joyce. Though surely your army title--"



"Is a reminder of the past I would prefer not to have to carry with me for the rest of my life."



She blinked in surprise. "But if the rank was earned--"



"There is nothing noble about war, Lady Elizabeth. I take no pride in any title. I am a Sir thanks to the death of a father I loved. There is no cause to rejoice in that."



"No, indeed," she said with a sniff, thinking of the loss of her own father and how deeply her brother had mourned him, when everyone else had envied him ascending to the Dukedom.



"As for my military titles," he continued, "I did what any patriot would do. That is all."



She met his aquamarine gaze head on and nodded. "Very well, then, Mr. Joyce. Will."



He bowed over her hand and went grumbling to himself all the way back home about how churlish he had been with her. But then, he was sure he had reason to be, as he cursed the ill luck that had ever caused him to fall in love with a woman who would probably never even take a second look at him if he were the last man in Ardmore.





Chapter Twelve



Much as Will longed to linger with Elizabeth Eltham at Clancar Castle, Will left the field to the other men all vying for his attention, and went off to attend to his duties in the cave.



He knew he should have told Monroe that he had located it. Located it some time ago, in fact. But something held him back. After all, the more people who knew about a secret, the less likely it was that it would remain one.



Elizabeth enjoyed herself at Clancar Castle, but somehow as the afternoon wore on, she felt more and more weary of the company. The children were all a delight, and Vevina was a wonderful companion, but the men constantly competing for her attention began to put her on edge. Finally at two she announced her intention of leaving.



"I must dress for dinner, and see to a few business matters with the steward," she said as she excused herself.



"Two hours dressing, five minutes to, er, do business," Fitzsimmons said with a twinkle in his eye.



Parks scowled. Really, the man and his innuendoes were really starting to get on his nerves. He knew he was a cousin of Stewart's, but there was just something about him that was not quite right…. And almost familiar.



Perhaps it was the strong superficial similarities family manner, but it was vaguely disquieting having him hanging about constantly, especially since the Duke's frown indicated that he didn't think much of him either.



"We are heartbroken and bereft, Lady Elizabeth, that you should leave us," Parks said, "but please, do not let us keep you from your most important estate business." He bowed to her.