Page 18 of The Curious Life of the Unfortunate Duchess
“Miss Elizabeth, there is no purer love than one felt by a child,” he explained. “There is no harm in permitting her to dance with Herbert. He is a good, albeit odd, man who would never do anything to dishonor your sister.”
“I would hope not!”
“I would not permit it if I suspected anything of the sort,” the Duke assured her. Elizabeth stared at him for a long, silent while, clearly weighing his words. He knew she had no reason to trust in his words but it was important to him that she did.
“Nor would I do anything to dishonor you, Miss Elizabeth,” he murmured. The unexpected statement caused her mouth to gape and a surprised shadow crossed over her face.
“Your Grace, I do not know you from Adam,” she breathed as she stepped back and lowered her eyes. “You are being quite forward.”
“I believe that life is much too fleeting to waste time with formalities, Miss Elizabeth. Do you not agree?”
He could tell by the expression on her face that she did not know what to concede. Cautiously, he stepped closer, her nearness intoxicating to him.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he whispered. “I would like very much to know you better. Do you believe that is a possibility?”
She raised her gaze toward him, the uncertainty clear. He could feel the positive response ready to spring from her lips as she opened her mouth to answer.
“I am—”
“Your Grace!”
Time resumed its normal rate and Leonard did not need to turn to know who shouted at him, quite nearly in his eardrum. The look of confusion on Elizabeth’s face slowly shifted into one of dubious anger.
“I did not know you would be here,” the lady in his ear continued, her grating tone a reminder of the difference between the delicate beauty standing before him and the lady he was going to marry. “Why did you not tell me? We could have traveled together from Pembroke!”
Slowly, reluctantly, Leonard turned to address his fiancée.
“Good evening, Miss Priscilla. May I present Miss Elizabeth Follett, second daughter to the Viscount of Gordon?”
Yet, as he turned to introduce Priscilla and Elizabeth, the Viscount’s daughter had already slipped away and out of sight. Leonard was left with a sense of great loss in the pit of his gut as he scoured the hall with his eyes for one last glimpse of Elizabeth but he would not let it overwhelm him. Fate had brought them together not once but twice. Leonard knew that there would certainly be a third opportunity to see Elizabeth Follett.
And when it does, I will ensure she does not slip away again,he vowed.
Chapter 6
Elizabeth stormed from the ballroom toward the twin staircases in the foyer, her breaths jagged with anger.
So foolish of me!She thought, shaking her head with disgust. Elizabeth could not imagine what she had been thinking while dancing with the Duke. It was clear he was a Lothario, a Casanova who believed he could conquer any lady he so desired. How could a man so attractive be anything but? Whatever tingle she felt when she had looked at him was one felt by a thousand unsuspecting ladies across the land, she was sure. As she made her way up toward her quarters, she willed herself to be calm but the image of the comely article on the Duke’s arm troubled her a great deal more than it should have. She did not know the man, after all. She had no reason to be distressed that he was attached to another.
Elizabeth had never looked lovelier than she did that evening, her slender but ripe form enveloped in a gown of green and white satin. The bodice clung to her provocatively but not so much that it would rouse the attention of her petty adversaries. Yet she felt decidedly unattractive in that moment.
“Are you ill, Liza?”
Her father’s shadow emerged from what looked to be the wall. If Elizabeth had not been fuming, she might have started at his sudden appearance but she was much too occupied with being irate with herself.
“No, Father,” she replied quickly, determined not to let the Viscount sense her foul mood. “Simply tired. I will retire, I think.”
“So soon?” Lord Gordon asked curiously. He stepped closer to his daughter and examined her face. His eyes narrowed as he studied her face with fatherly wisdom. Elizabeth was sickened to think he might read her shame upon her face.
“What happened, child?”
Elizabeth wondered if her emotions were painted upon her cheeks or if her father knew her so well, he could merely sense the turmoil she was feeling.
“Nothing,” she assured him, summoning a smile to her face. “I am merely tired. I will see you in the morning, Father.”
Impulsively, she leaned forward to dart a kiss upon his cheek before vanishing into the long corridor toward the west wing. She could not trouble her father with such a trivial thing. What would she say?
I was misled by a dashing duke who is likely spoken for already? Father would shake his head in disappointment if I did. He did not raise a foolish child, after all.
