Page 14 of The Curious Life of the Unfortunate Duchess
“It is a curse!” her father had shouted and flailed his arms with distress. “My daughters are far too special for this world! I am doomed to endure persecution.”
Yet when he had settled some, he took Elizabeth aside and explained to her something which she had never forgotten.
“When you have a special talent, sweet daughter, it will make others loathe you. You must find strength from within and ignore those who are determined to hold you down. Trust no one and you will never be disappointed.”
“I-- but Father! I trust you!” Elizabeth protested in shock. Surely her father did not mean everyone was the enemy. Lord Gordon waved his hand and scowled.
“Family is quite a different matter,” he replied quickly. “You must love your blood, regardless of what they do.”
Elizabeth found those words echoing in her mind while she watched an unknown man near her sister, who continued to dance across the courtyard.
Has every man at this event taken leave of his senses?She wondered angrily and strode to intercept the stranger. Those who were not aware of Frances’ affliction were oft to approach the comely lady and cause Frances upset. The oldest Follett sibling had no comprehension of certain social matters which was why she needed to be watched constantly. Bernadette had lost herself in the crowd but Elizabeth could not wait for the abigail to make herself known. If Frances was approached by a stranger, she might react badly and it was not a matter which Elizabeth wanted to oversee again. Yet as she stalked purposefully toward the odd-looking man with the balding head and mutton chops, he slowed to a stop and watched Frances floating about, a soft, mesmerized smile on his lips. Her sister was oblivious to his stare but Elizabeth also paused, a strange sensation of calm watching over her as she observed the ugly man.
He was well-dressed enough in a dashing black suit and handsome white cravat but it did not deter from his unfashionable glasses or half-full head of hair. Elizabeth did not presume him to be noble but likely a well-paid servant of sorts. Abruptly, the stranger turned his head and stared directly at Elizabeth, possibly feeling her eyes upon him. His lips parted into an “O” of surprise and he lowered his eyes in shame. It was clear he had not wished to be caught studying Frances, even from a distance.
“Forgive me for gawking,” he mumbled, his tone so low, she could barely hear him. “I was marvelling at her free spirit.”
“My sister is indeed free-spirited,” Elizabeth agreed, unsure if she should be angered or touched by his attention toward her sister. She wondered how smitten the man would be to learn of Frances’ handicap but Elizabeth did not tell him. It was not his business, after all. Frances’ afflictions were a family matter.
“Who might you be?” Elizabeth challenged boldly. She knew it was improper to demand his name but she did not mind herself, not where her sister was involved. To her mild amusement, he flushed a deep crimson and Elizabeth wondered if she had ever seen a grown man blush with embarrassment. Suddenly, Elizabeth could see that he bore no threat whatsoever.
“Herbert Barlough, barrister for Leonard, the Duke of Pembroke.”
Inexplicably, she felt a shiver slide down her backbone. She could not say why but hearing the name of the Duke was musical in her ears. Elizabeth had never met the man but as she recalled from her studies, he was the 5thDuke of Pembroke, the 4threcently having passed.
“Miss Elizabeth Follett, daughter to Viscount of Gordon,” she introduced in return. “Charmed.”
He bowed and again lowered his gaze. While he did not speak again, Elizabeth noticed his eyes moving again toward Frances.
He is truly entranced by her!Elizabeth realized. The understanding made her smile warmly yet feel melancholic in the same way. Her sister might never find a husband to love her but she would not stand in the way of the admiring manner Herbert Barlough stared at her. If only for one night, Frances could know the feeling of being admired in a place where fewer people knew of her disability.
“She is an angel,” Herbert murmured and Elizabeth looked at him in surprise. She suspected he had not meant to speak aloud. Abruptly, she turned her head back, her eyes narrowing slowly. The pang of sadness in her heart was not just for Frances, Elizabeth suddenly understood, but for the yearning to have someone look at her with the same adoration Herbert bestowed upon her sister.
I do wonder if there is such a concept as love at first sight? If I were to wager, I would say Mr. Barlough suffers from such a curse.
Chapter 5
The Following Evening…
“I daresay that your wedding will seem pitiful in comparison,” Catherine teased her brother, a goblet of wine in her hand. “And not simply because of your bride. Lady Fife is quite fetching, is she not? I cannot imagine what she will wear at her nuptials tomorrow but I imagine it will be a sight to behold!”
Leonard could see his sister was well into her cups, her words babbling and silly as she spoke but he made no comment on the matter. Perhaps he was content to see Catherine without woe in her eyes, if only for a short time. However, his mind was elsewhere and he did not require a reminder of his own impending marriage in that instance.
“Indeed,” Leonard mumbled, searching through the crowd. He did not know why he was certain that the woman he had seen in the town was present except to say he felt her nearby somehow, as though she had permeated his bones with the mere sound of her voice.
How foolish,he chided himself but even the sound thought did not alleviate the strange longing he felt since seeing the dark-haired lady and her companion. He had not slept the previous night, some unseen shadows lurking in his mind. Reasonably, the Duke considered he was growing nervous about the possibility of marrying such a flavorless wife and looking for an excuse, or a sign, to end the engagement. Yet even with the reason resonating in his mind, Leonard could not stop himself from imagining what the lady’s face looked like. He found himself lapsing into a fanciful game of make-believe.
In his mind’s eye, he envisioned her with large eyes and creamy skin, a mouth of full, pink nectar. In some instances, her eyes were as green as his and in others she bore wide, chocolate irises. It did not matter how he pictured her, she was always as desirable as the sound of her voice. How he wished he had learned her name.
They had arrived in Fife at midday and Leonard should have faced exhaustion but he could not entertain the idea of sleep, despite the long travel. Catherine and the Duchess made comments about his apparent eagerness.
“I have never seen you quite so content to be anywhere,” his mother said. Her wise eyes studied him with interest.
“May I ask why you have decided to join us?” the Duchess inquired. “I confess, this is highly uncharacteristic of you.”
Leonard feigned a look of surprise.
“Why, Mother, are you complaining that I wish to accompany my family on a journey? Just the other day you admonished me for leaving you and Catherine for prolonged periods.”
