Chapter 14
“Oh, certainly not, Lady Theo,” Eli cautioned. “The wilds of Africa are far more dangerous than the moors of Scotland. I once witnessed a crocodile leap two feet from the water to snap its jaws around a bird flying above.”
At the Ooohs and Ahhhs issued from both Miss Payton and Lady Theo, Eli smiled contently, risking a sideways glance at Sam, who used her fork to push the remaining morsels of food around on her plate.
She’d been unaffected by their debate regarding the dangerous nature of society.
In fact, she’d kept her eyes trained on the remnants of pheasant and avoided discussions with everyone at the table.
Her mood drifted from lighthearted to melancholy as the evening progressed; even her quick wit and their entertaining banter had died to silence as course after course of savory deliciousness were placed before them.
Eli had been under the impression they’d both agreed to banish their gloom.
“The meal is distinct from any I’ve tasted before—in all my travels,” Eli said, hoping to draw her from her sullen silence. “Many of the spices I have never sampled before.”
Lady Theo and Miss Payton chatted happily amongst themselves, leaving Eli free to dedicate his attention to Sam once more.
“Now, I must ask your opinion on something. Do you think Stanford prefers lavender or peach-scented perfume?” His question was whispered, unheard by the other guests over the many conversations around them; however, she did not acknowledge him. “A penny for your thoughts, Miss Samantha?”
A servant stepped forward and removed his plate, turning to Sam next. “May I, miss?”
“Oh, certainly. I am finished.” She set her fork aside and shifted, allowing the servant room to collect her plate. “Thank you.”
“Miss Samantha.” Eli caught her eye before she had time to return it to the table. “You seemed rather distracted—which I thought was my duty—during our meal. Is anything amiss?”
She shook her head, her mouth opening to speak, but Lord Cummings stood, once again signaling for everyone’s attention. The man seemed to enjoy his obligations as host, as he’d spent the entire meal speaking with anyone who would listen.
“Ladies.” Cummings’ robust voice echoed off the walls enclosing the room as servants hurried to and fro, removing plates and clearing the serving dishes.
“While it has been great having you underfoot, I am afraid you have overstayed your welcome. If you will be so kind as to retire to the drawing room, we will join you shortly.”
Everyone laughed—with the exception of Sam—as the women stood, preparing to depart the room.
Sam stood quickly with barely a weak smile for him before turning and following the other women out.
A man, tall and lanky, slipped into the room as the doors shut solidly behind him, cutting off the chatting from the women as they journeyed back to the drawing room—leaving Eli alone with the other men.
He kept his seat when Lord Cummings and several of the men moved to the sideboard, the host pouring each a large tumbler of port.
It gave Eli time to inspect each gentleman.
They would be his peers if he chose to remain in London for a spell after delivering his grandfather’s collection to the museum.
Lord Haversham and Mr. Jakeston stood chuckling at something Lord Chastain said.
Eli was too far away to overhear the jest, but Jakeston slapped his friend on the back when his laughter turned to coughing as if he’d choked on his port.
Stanford, the auctioneer, had wandered toward a shelf along the far wall and examined a row of books.
Cartwright, Cummings, and Gunther stood at the sideboard, refilling their cups as the final man, who’d slipped into the group only after the women had departed, stood several paces away, speaking to no one.
From the turn of the man’s head, Eli suspected he listened to Lord Cartwright’s conversation.
Maybe he too was unfamiliar with those in attendance.
Elijah stood and strode toward the man, his auburn locks and the set of his chin oddly familiar. He could at least make the man feel welcome—as Sam had done for him the day before.
“Have you just arrived at Hollybrooke?” Elijah asked, stopping before him.
“Earlier this morning, yes.” He appeared relieved to have someone to speak with. “Lord Beauchamp.”
“I am Elijah, Lord Ridgefeld,” he responded with a nod. “I only arrived yesterday. You did not attend the meal.”
Beauchamp glanced around, beads of sweat appearing across his forehead. “No, I had other business to attend to. Are you a friend of Lord Cartwright?”
“Yes—and no,” Eli said with a chuckle. “My grandfather and Lord Cartwright were well acquainted. I am here with museum business.” When the man only nodded, Eli asked, “And you? Are you a friend or part of the family? I understand the gathering only includes a limited number.”
“Yes—and no.” Beauchamp made use of Eli’s explanation. “I am family—here to see my daughters.”
“Oh,” Eli didn’t bother keeping his interest at bay. “Will they be joining the party shortly?”
Beauchamp grimaced and glanced again at the closed door. “I believe they are with the other women. Which is surely safer for all involved.”
Elijah hadn’t any idea what the man meant, but Lord Cartwright appeared at his elbow then, holding out a tumbler of port to each of them. “Ah, Ridgefeld, I see you have met our surprise guest.”
“I have. Lord Beauchamp was telling me he arrived today and that his daughters are with the women. I am looking forward to meeting them.”
Cartwright laughed, and Beauchamp blanched, all color draining from his face, and even down his neck before the pallor disappeared beneath his cravat.
“Did I say something amusing, my lord?” The other conversations in the room had quieted, and all attention was on Eli—or maybe it was Beauchamp. Tendrils of recognition connected…tall and rail-thin, hair of burnt-red, and eyes the color of—
“I am Dexter Pengarden, Viscount Beauchamp. Miss Samantha and Miss Judith are my daughters.”
Could it be? Sam had spoken nothing of the man and had insinuated Lady Marce had raised her and her siblings.
A whistle of shock sounded behind him.
It was encouraging to hear he wasn’t the only person in the room reeling in utter surprise.
“I…well…” For not the first time since arriving at Hollybrooke, Eli was stunned into wordlessness. “It is very nice to make your acquaintance, my lord.” But was it nice? It was not difficult to deduce that it was this man’s arrival that had sent Sam into a tailspin.
“Do not worry, Ridgefeld,” Cummings said, joining the small group. “You are not the only one surprised by the appearance of Lord Beauchamp. I fear we are all still whirling with disbelief.”
“Enough, Cummings,” Cartwright hissed. “Come, my lord. Let us speak over here.”
The pair moved to the far end of the room, out of earshot of the others, and Elijah was left with his mouth gaping open. Had this been the true reason Sam was crying earlier?
Why would her father’s arrival at her sister’s wedding cause her such upset? Eli glanced around the room, each man only now starting on their drinks—it would be at least an hour before they joined the women again.
“Lord Ridgefeld?”
Eli’s mind had been elsewhere, unaware Gunther had moved from his position against the wall to stand beside him.
Exactly the man Elijah had no interest in speaking with—he’d sat at Lord Cartwright’s end of the table during the meal but sent barely veiled looks of discontent in Eli’s direction.
“Lord Gunther, is it?” Eli said by way of greeting.
“Yes.” The man narrowed his eyes, and his shoulders tensed. “May I speak frankly?”
“Certainly.” Though Eli hadn’t a clue what the man could possibly have to discuss—frankly or otherwise.
“Have you said or done something to injure Miss Samantha?”
The question caught him off guard. He’d wondered what had altered Sam’s demeanor since this morning, but that Gunther suspected as much, as well, meant the man was at least partly familiar with Sam.
A jolt of pain coursed through Eli’s jaw, his teeth clamped tightly to hold back any foolish outburst. Instead of issuing a scolding retort, Eli breathed deeply and exhaled. “I haven’t any notion of what you speak, my lord.”
Gunther took a menacing step forward. “It is only I was invited as a possible suitor for Miss Samantha, and I swear the woman is avoiding me. I think you know something of the matter.”
She certainly was avoiding Gunther, but it was not Elijah’s place to enlighten the poor fellow to that fact.
“I regret to inform you that I will be of no help in the matter.” Eli had no reason to trust Gunther—and Sam’s aversion to his attention only solidified things. “Miss Samantha and I have only recently gained an acquaintance. She has taken me under her wing to introduce me to the other guests.”
“Good to hear, my lord.” Gunther sighed in relief. “I had heard from my servant that he saw you exiting Miss Samantha’s private chamber earlier.”
He’d been careful to survey the corridor in both directions when he’d departed Sam’s room—Eli hadn’t seen or heard anyone close.
“Your servant must have confused me with someone else.” Foreboding coursed through him.
If a servant had, indeed, witnessed his departure from Sam’s room, it would not be long before their host was informed.
Eli could not allow the man to see him react in any way.
If the man pressed, Eli would have no further explanations to give.
Not another guest could vouch for him—except…
“I went for a walk earlier today about Lord Cummings’ estate.
Across the lawn and by the pond in time to see Mr. Jakeston’s untimely fall into the water.
” Lord Haversham had seen Elijah walking, even motioned him to join the group on the lawn, but Eli had acted as if he hadn’t seen the man’s gesture.
He hoped it was enough to keep anyone from speculating further on Eli’s whereabouts that afternoon.
Thankfully, Gunther laughed. “I would have given a hundred pounds to see that. Is it true Lord Haversham pushed him into the frigid water?”
There was no going back now—Eli could only make sure the man believed his every word and no future questions arose on the subject. “Actually, Lord Haversham was attempting to help Jakeston extricate a mallet from the water when the man took a tumble.”
It was the story he’d overheard after descending the stairs earlier. The hectic commotion surrounding the fall would likely prevent anyone from remembering who exactly had been present to witness the incident.
Greatly benefiting Eli and his much-needed alibi.
Glancing over his shoulder, he noted Lord Cartwright, Garrett, and Lord Beauchamp had disappeared from the room.
Eli took a long drink from his glass. “Will you excuse me?”
With a satisfied nod, Lord Gunther moved toward Stanford, reassured Eli posed no threat to his coming courtship of Miss Samantha. Which for all intents and purposes, was true.
However, he and Sam had struck a deal—and Eli expected her to see it to completion.
And in turn, he would see his side through until he departed Hollybrooke.
The thought of leaving the guests behind in favor of the solitude of his estate no longer filled him with a sense of ease.
Despite all that had happened since his arrival, or maybe in spite of it all, Elijah was having an enjoyable time. He could not deny it was mainly due to Sam.
And at the moment, something deep inside him knew she needed him.
He set his empty glass on the sideboard and slipped through the door, closing it quietly in his wake.
He retraced the path back to the drawing room they’d met in before the meal had been announced. The double doors were open, affording Eli a clear view of the entire room.
Suspiciously missing, along with Sam, was Lord Cartwright, Garrett, Lord Beauchamp, and Lady Marce Davenport.