The Problem with Seduction - By Emma Locke Page 0,36
for his return. It was too much like her old self, the one who’d become enamored of a man she didn’t truly know. She’d thought her defenses better built up than this.
Later that afternoon, her lady’s maid, Nelly, entered the nursery. She kept her voice low so as not to wake Oliver, but she sounded excited nonetheless. “Madam, Lord and Lady Trestin are here to see you. Mr. Rand put them in the drawing room. Do you want me to fetch Mrs. Dalton to see to Master Oliver?”
Elizabeth rose to her feet and went to the cradle. Oliver still slept. She made a shooing motion at her maid. “Run to the kitchens and ask Sally for a tea tray. And yes, please, wake Mrs. Dalton from her nap. Go on, now. Lady Trestin mustn’t be kept waiting.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Nelly bobbed before ducking into the hall.
Elizabeth tugged at the sleeves of her spencer and smoothed her hair from her face. She touched her bare fingers around her collar feeling for spittle and, finding none, went into the hallway. She needn’t be too neat for Lady Trestin. In spite of her fine new title, Lady Trestin was still the same woman who’d been Elizabeth’s best friend for years, Celeste Gray. An infamous former courtesan now married to a rather staid—and deliciously handsome—viscount.
Elizabeth paused just outside of the nursery door, as there was no sign of Mrs. Dalton yet. Her eagerness to see Celeste and Lord Trestin, the seemingly straitlaced man who’d stolen her friend away, overshadowed her unwanted response to Con that had plagued her all morning.
The effect was but momentary, however, as no sooner had she prided herself on not thinking about Con than he sprang into her thoughts again. She paced the carpet runner padding the hallway and tried not to think about her pledge made to Celeste just weeks earlier, when she’d dared to dream of one day being in this very situation.
…if I should meet a man who sets my belly fluttering while treating me as respectfully as your Lord Trestin does, I shall marry him without delay.
Surely no one had been more surprised by Trestin’s proposal of marriage to Celeste than Celeste herself. Their wedding had been the second happiest day of Elizabeth’s life, after the birth of her son. But she’d had to wonder, would a man like Lord Trestin ever want her?
Mrs. Dalton finally rounded the corner. The right side of her face was wrinkled from her pillow but she looked more rested than she’d appeared after overseeing the unpacking of the carriages. “Is he asleep?” she asked, pushing her hairpins into place.
Elizabeth walked toward her, in the direction of the main stair. She nodded, then called over her shoulder, “For another few minutes, at least.”
She smiled to herself as she went down to the first floor. Maybe there wouldn’t ever be a man who adored her. It seemed very likely that her father’s love would always be out of reach. But this was her life now, trading her son’s status with his nursemaid. Maybe this was her version of happily ever after.
As inconceivable as it had once seemed. Not so long ago, she’d sat for hours every afternoon while her hair was arranged, and refused to leave her apartments unless she was turned out more fashionably than any mere lady. Those were the days when she and Celeste had ruled London’s demimonde. She wouldn’t go back to that for all of the finery and flattery in the world.
She left the main stair and hurried to the drawing room. Celeste was speaking in low tones to her husband, a raven-haired man with a fine form and probing gaze. Celeste’s dove-gray walking dress trimmed in purple velvet set off her auburn hair and made her seem a proper lady, giving Elizabeth pause. Was it her red curls arranged artfully beneath a pretty poke bonnet, or her handsome husband beside her that made it hard to imagine Celeste had ever been a courtesan?
“Elizabeth! You’re looking lovely again. I’m so glad for it.” Celeste reached for Elizabeth’s hands. She smiled prettily, her green eyes glowing, and squeezed Elizabeth’s fingers.
“Much improved,” Trestin agreed, causing Elizabeth’s lips to turn up. His factual statement must be taken as truth, for he wasn’t the type to dole out generous compliments.
“Thank you, my lord,” Elizabeth replied cheekily, for she knew he loathed her addressing him as such. Celeste tapped her arm as if she’d been naughty and Elizabeth chuckled.