Page 19 of The Curious Life of the Unfortunate Duchess
No, it was best to keep her embarrassment silent. There was no need for anyone else to know she had been seconds away from confessing to the Duke that she, too, felt a charge between them. She reasoned she should be grateful that the Duke’s companion had arrived when she did and saved Elizabeth from embarrassing herself.
Elizabeth made her way into her chambers and closed the door. The servants had already been through to light the lamps. Elizabeth sat at the vanity and reached for a silver-handled brush to stroke her gleaming hair one hundred times. It was a tradition she had started with her mother, in another lifetime perhaps but it made Elizabeth feel closer to her even still. Idly, she wondered how her mother would have felt about the charming Duke. In a small way, the Duke reminded her of her father, charismatic and affable. Elizabeth suspected that her mother would have approved of the man and the thought made her feel worse, somehow.
A gentle rap on the door stirred her attention and Elizabeth felt an unexpected leap in her heart.
Would the Duke of Pembroke follow me to my quarters?
It was daring and unlikely but she recalled the way he had swept her into his arms without a care and she bit on her lower lip. She was ashamed that she hoped it was him on the other side of the door.
“Miss Elizabeth” a timid voice called. “I saw you enter.”
Elizabeth exhaled and again chided herself for being so foolish.
“You may come,” she called. The door opened and a girl of no more than twenty hurried toward her, head bowed.
“May I help you ready for sleep, Miss Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth turned away from the glass and examined the girl closely. She was a gaunt thing, perhaps underfed. A spark of anger sprung through her. It defied grace that a household as wealthy as the Fife’s could justify malnourished staff.
Particularly, when Baron Fife will spend so recklessly to see his daughter wed!
“You may help me,” Elizabeth agreed slowly, rising to permit the abigail to slip off her gown. The girl’s fingers trembled and Elizabeth wondered why.
“Are you hungry?” she asked gently before turning to stare at the maidservant. “You are shaking and quite thin.”
Wide, terrified eyes met her question and she shook her head. The query clearly took her aback as though no one had ever asked her such a thing.
“No, my Lady,” she whispered.
“What is your name?”
“Lucy, Miss Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth pursed her lips together. She was quite sure the girl was starving but she did not wish to frighten her any more.
“Please, Miss Elizabeth,” Lucy breathed. “Do permit me to help you with your gown.”
“In a moment. I shall return but you must remain in my chambers. Am I clear?”
Lucy nodded, hanging her head, anticipating trouble. Elizabeth made her way back into the manor, carefully closing the door behind her. She thought of how many other servants might be hungry. Possibly all of them. The thought only fuelled her determination.
“I thought you had retired for the night,” Lord Gordon said, surprised as she descended the staircase. Elizabeth considered telling him about the servant girl but there was so little he could do for her. Why would he? She was just a girl and hardly worth starting trouble over. Moreover, Elizabeth was speculating about the servant’s situation. She had no proof that the Baron of Fife was abusing his staff.
“I was feeling a bit peckish,” she replied sheepishly. “I had hoped to bring some food into my quarters.”
“For shame, daughter,” Lord Gordon said but his voice was light. “You must know that is the best method of attracting mice.”
“Will you tattle on me, Father?” she asked solemnly and he laughed jovially.
“Certainly not but if you are caught, do not tell the Baron I knew of your scheme.”
Elizabeth smiled and nodded in agreement.
“I am sworn to secrecy, Father.”
She moved away, her skirts sweeping along her ankles and sought the banquet table rife with cheeses, fruits and bread. The party had taken on an intolerable din and Elizabeth knew even if she had not been off put by the Duke of Pembroke, she would have retired forthwith.
At thought of the Duke, Elizabeth’s eyes raised and she gazed toward where she had last seen him. To her dismay, he remained precisely where she had last seen him, on the arm of the honey-haired lady.
