Whitney, My Love

"Now Peter," Whitney soothed, struggling desperately to keep her face straight. "Be reasonable. All I intend to do is take Elizabeth to London and introduce her to some of the gentlemen I met at a ball there this week. They are a most charming, eligible group, and all of them have impeccable backgrounds and unexceptionable reputations. They may be a little fast, but I'm quite certain Elizabeth won't fall violently in love with more than one or two of them. It's time for her to marry, you know. She's a year older than I."

"I know how old Elizabeth is!" Peter raked his hand through his hair in frustration.

"Then you should also know that you have no say in what she does. You aren't her papa, nor her husband, nor even her fiance. So do stop arguing and admit defeat. I'll just go and see about di

Whitney was absolutely certain that Peter would propose when he took Elizabeth home. She was wrong; they were standing hand-in-hand when she returned to the drawing room ten minutes later.

"It grieves me to upset your plans," Peter mocked, "but Elizabeth will not be accompanying you to London. She has agreed to become my wife. Well," he demanded irritably, "what have you to say to that?"

"Say?" Whitney repeated, lowering her eyes to hide her delighted smile. "Why . . . how very provoking of you,

Peter. I had so wanted to … give Elizabeth a glorious taste of London."

Peter, who was i

Chapter Twenty-three

UPON ARRIVING AT THE ARCHIBALDS' TOWNHOUSE, WHTTNEY was greeted by a flustered Emily, her brown hair covered with a kerchief, her cheeks smudged with dirt. "You look like a chimney sweep," Whitney laughed.

"You look like a godsend!" Emily countered, embracing her. "Can a knight be seated beside an honorable at di

Whitney blinked in surprised confusion.

"It's this wretched party," Emily explained in the salon after Whitney had taken off her pelisse and Clarissa had been shown to her room. "Michael's mama said that I must begin to entertain as suits Michael's station in life. Have you any idea how much fuss the ton can make over the simple act of sitting down to di

Whitney sca

Emily sank down on the sofa, her eyes still clouded with worry. "This is our first formal party and Michael's mama is going to be here watching every move I make. She's a stickler for formalities. She was less than pleased when her son married A Nobody, and I want more than anything to show her I can have the most perfect, grandest party she's ever attended!"

Whitney, who had been racking her brain for some excuse to see Clayton other than the obvious one, slowly began to smile with delight. Turning back to the desk, she picked up the quill and wrote his name and title in the proper place on the seating diagram. "This should make you the hostess of the year," she a

"The Duke of Claymore," Emily gasped. "But he'd think me the most presumptuous person in the world. Besides, he'd not come-none of our guests is his social equal, despite their titles."

"He'll come," Whitney assured her. "Give me a spare invitation and a sheet of paper." After a moment's thought, Whitney wrote to Clayton and explained that she had come to London to visit Emily, and that she hoped very much that he would join her at the party. She enclosed the invitation and gave it to one of the Archibalds' footmen with instructions to take it to his grace's secretary, Mr. Hudgins, in Upper Brook Street and to tell Mr. Hudgins that the note was from Miss Stone-which was how Clayton had told her to reach him if she wanted him to come back early.

The footman returned a short time later with the information that the duke had gone to his brother's country home, and would be back in London early the next day-Saturday.

Emily looked simultaneously relieved and crestfallen. "He'll be too weary to come to the party tomorrow night," she sighed. "He'll be here," Whitney said with smiling certainty.

After di

"If anyone had told me a few years ago that you would someday be Elizabeth's bridesmaid, I'd have accused them of being deranged!" Emily said with a laugh.

"I think Elizabeth means to ask you to be her matron of honor," Whitney said. "The wedding is going to take place here in London, since most of Elizabeth and Peter's relatives live here."

Not until Saturday afternoon did Whitney allow herself to dwell on her forthcoming confrontation with Clayton tonight. She and Clarissa spent the morning doing errands for Emily, and on the way back, Whitney asked the Archibalds' driver to turn into the park and stop. She left Clarissa in the open carriage and wandered along the path between the neatly tended beds of chrysanthemums.

She had told Aunt A

She thought about the times they had been together, begi

Clayton desired her. And he was very proud of her-she had seen that at the Rutherfords' ball. He didn't love her, of course, but he did care for her. He cared enough about her to be hurt by the dreadful things she'd said to him that day beside the pavilion. Tenderness welled in her heart as she remembered how furiously he'd rejected her kiss until he finally lost control and his arms went around her, crushing her to him. And she remembered how desolate she'd felt when she believed they were saying goodbye forever.