The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2(158)

He shrugged, and went into the small parlor they had set aside for the wine tasting. "It's not for me to say."



"But I'm asking your advice. As an old friend."



He sighed. "As I said, we shall miss you. But you need to strike out on your own, not live with the shadow of what happened to Jane forever. Promise me you'll be careful, won't you, Elizabeth. Men can be most plausible rogues."



"I know. I promise."



Clifford gave her a warm hug and a soothing rub on the back.



They heard the tread of a booted foot on the wooden floor outside.



"Sorry to interrupt, I was told to come look for Elizabeth," Will said gruffly, feeling a cold fury spread through him.



He gaped as he saw the face of the tall blond man she had been hugging. Relief flooded through him. For a moment he had thought it was Fitzsimmons.



"Mr. Stone?"



Clifford pumped his hand warmly. "Good to see you, lad. We've just finished in the cellars. Perhaps you can help Elizabeth open them to breathe whilst I get cleaned up."



"Er, certainly."



But Clifford had already vanished, leaving them completely alone for the first time.



"Please allow me to take off your dusty coat first, Lady Elizabeth."



"Thank you."



He removed it from her gently and draped it over a chair, then took off his evening gloves and began to open and uncork with deft movements.



"We can get Edgars to do this if you prefer."



"Don't be silly. I'm not averse to doing things myself. I had to in the war, after all."



"How is your shoulder now? I noticed it pained you today," she said quietly, daring to risk a direct look at his handsome face as she removed her gloves to stop them from getting any more dusty than they already had.



"It twinges me every so often. I'm sorry if you were hurt or startled."



"Neither, but I was concerned for you."



"It's nothing."



"How did it happen, or is that too personal a question?"



He shrugged. "The French were trying to kill me. They fired a cannon, the shell exploded, I was hit. The shrapnel was too deep to get it out. End of story."



"I'm sure it's a great deal more painful than you are letting on," she said softly, placing one hand upon his sleeve. "Emotion doesn't have to be weakness, you know."



He jumped away from her before she could touch him again. "I don't know what you mean, Lady Elizabeth. Pray excuse me while I see where my sister has got to. We should not be alone in here together like this."



He fled. Beat an ignominious retreat. Turned tail and ran.



Whatever terms he couched it in, he could have turned his head and kissed her, but didn't.



He would have words with his so-called friends about setting him up again. It was simply not fair to either of them. The last thing he wanted was for her to get herself a reputation thanks to him.



If the Fitzsimmons family had been in the house and found them alone together with their gloves off having a personal conversation, they would never have heard the end of it.



But then, he had to concede, if Marcus had been in the house he would never have got the chance to get anywhere near her alone.



What had she meant by her statement about emotion? He sighed. He would never know now.



He gathered the troops to get them to help set up the wine bottles, and headed back to the little room. The servants began to lay out food. Clifford came in a short time later with Thomas, both looking freshly washed and dressed, and eager to be the teachers for the evening. To everyone's relief, Fitzsimmons was not with Thomas.



They had a most pleasant evening, for Will and Parks were knowledgable about wines as well.



"You should see Will's cellars at Joyce Hall. Most fine."



Will stared fixedly at his friend and remained silent.



"You can pop round tomorrow to come have a look if you like, all of you," Parks invited.



"Oh, er, but they will have so much to do tomorrow to prepare for the ball, and the house is in such poor repair—"



"Nonsense. What's a bit of dust? Do say you'll come have a look, Clifford. I would value your opinion. I might buy a few bottles from you and Lady Elizabeth as well, if you don't mind, to start laying down my own cellar. After three years drinking the most appalling swill in Portugal and Spain I could do with some good tipple."



"Surely the wines were not that bad there? Port and sherry and so on," Elizabeth said with a smile at Parks.



"True, true. And I would not want you to think that we were topers. But the water often wasn't fit to drink, and the cheaper wines were like vinegar. The Frenchies got most of the good stuff, curse them." His tone was so mild that everyone laughed.