Reddington’s jaw worked with anger at her less-than-subtle appeal to his men’s patriotism over any loyalty to their leader. “Prepare to fail.”
Elizabeth’s mind whirred. Had she missed anything? “The battle royal shall take place at ten o’clock in the morning, before an impartial witness, who is to be informed of the entirety of the agreed-upon conditions as stated here today.”
“Is that all, princess?” Reddington asked sarcastically.
Everyone was watching her.
She tried to think. “One last thing. Regardless of any given soldier’s statements or actions, if either general yields to his opponent at any time, that is to be considered a forfeit. The battle is over then and there.”
“The battle is already over,” snarled Reddington. “You’ve lost. Pack your valises.”
“Does that mean you agree to these terms, as stated, and witnessed by your men?”
Reddington glared at her, clearly thinking over her demands as he remounted his steed. A sudden wolflike smile took over his face. “Agreed.”
A sinking sensation roiled in Elizabeth’s stomach. She must not have worded her position as carefully as she’d thought she had. Was it too late to add—
Reddington raised his fist and shouted, “Until the first of June!”
The bugle sounded and he rode off into the forest, rose petals flying. His soldiers raced behind him on foot. Any chance to continue the discussion was lost.
The moment the invaders were out of sight, Stephen swung Elizabeth in an elated circle. “You did it! You negotiated terms!”
Elizabeth chose not to mention her misgivings. It was probably nothing. Nerves, which wasn’t something she was used to having. In fact, she’d already all but forgotten Reddington, in the giddy rush of Stephen swinging her in circles as though she were light as a feather.
“Mother of God.” She squeezed Stephen’s arm muscles in fascination, her feet dangling several inches from the ground. “You really could carry me up five flights of stairs.”
He grinned at her and held her tighter. “Want to find out?”
She kissed his lips, then wiggled back to the ground.Yes, she wanted to find out, damn him. She wanted to see and kiss and explore every glorious inch of him, and have him do the same to her.
But an affaire with him would not be as meaningless and easy as others in the past. Elizabeth liked Stephen more than she cared to admit. And it turned out that baring herself to someone who knew her this well took more bravery than she was ready for.
Fighting to the death was easier than lowering her defenses. The wisest thing to do would be to maintain firm borders and stay safely on her side of the battlement for the rest of her stay.
Then again, Elizabeth had never backed down from a challenge.
Even one guaranteed to end in tears.
29
Late afternoon sun streamed through the square stone windows of the earl’s study. Stephen’s knee bobbed beneath his cousin’s desk as he tried to concentrate on the documents before him.
Difficult, when they were three days away from the forewarned battle royal.
Stephen’s mind kept replaying Elizabeth’s negotiation with Reddington, and the duel she’d fought with Crump. She absolutely had the upper hand on the self-proclaimed warlord and every soldier in his army, but there was always risk in battle. The only way to ensure no harm befell Elizabeth was to find that will.
Stephen also wanted to protect Miss Oak. He researched alternate locales for an orphanage in the vicinity as a contingency plan, and found several that looked promising. He would not purchase any land without her consent—Stephen had learned his lesson about assuming he knew best what someone else wanted or needed. Nonetheless, creating a trust for the earl’s aunt was the least he and Densmore could do for all the hassle and heartache the earl’s careless wager had caused her. The funds would empower Miss Oak to make decisions for herself.
Besides, the reason there was excess money in the earl’s accounts was because Stephen had managed the earldom’s finances these past sixteen weeks. Setting a bit aside to staff a school and provide housingfor children was certainly as worthy an investment as any of the others Stephen had made in Densmore’s name. It wasn’t charity, but an apology for Densmore wagering what wasn’t his to begin with.
The clock on the mantel showed a quarter past five in the afternoon. This morning Elizabeth had mysteriously announced it washerturn to plan a romantic evening. She hadn’t given a time, but Stephen hoped it would start soon.
Quickly, he signed and franked the required papers for the formation of the trust, then rang for a footman to send the documents to Stephen’s lawyer.
Forester appeared at the door. “Yes, my lord?”
“Post these, if you would, please.”
