Page 33 of The Curious Life of the Unfortunate Duchess
“Liza, you cannot wear that to supper. You will offend the Duchess.”
“Is it the Duchess you are concerned with me offending?” Elizabeth replied. “Or the Duke?”
Percival glanced over her shoulder, possibly seeking witnesses to their conversation before gesturing her inside the front room.
“What is the meaning of this, Liza?” he asked, sighing. Elizabeth got the distinct impression her father knew precisely what she spoke of.
“Father, what am I doing here?” she asked in exasperation. “Is this your attempt to matchmake?”
The Viscount whirled to look at her in surprise.
“Certainly not, Liza. I know you are very much your own woman. You do not need me or anyone else acting as a matchmaker for you.”
“And yet here I am,” she sighed, disbelieving his protests. “What is the meaning of this, Father? To come here for a month?”
Percival’s eyes narrowed slightly and he stared at Elizabeth with some disdain.
“Liza, you are a good girl,” he told her. “But I daresay, you are oft self-serving.”
Her eyes widened in shock and hurt.
“Self-serving?” she echoed. “How is that?”
“Did it occur to you that this venture might benefit your siblings in some way?”
It had not occurred to her, not in the least.
“David is becoming a man, one who requires the guidance of strong leaders. I fear my tasks oft take me away, leaving him in the care of you and the servants. That is no way for a young man to learn leadership, is it? He is apt to find trouble when left alone, would you not agree?”
Elizabeth thought of Lady Chamberlain, the widow with whom David had professed to having an affair and she begrudgingly nodded her head. It was true, without the company of men, David could be easily led astray by the wiles of women who did not have his best interest in their hearts. Elizabeth had done her best in raising the boy without the benefit of a sound older sister, and with an absentee father but she was not his mother and she knew that he needed better guidance than a sister barely five years his senior.
“There have been some rather disturbing rumors following my children which trouble me. I daresay, a month from the manor will do you all good, particularly young David who seems to have caught the eye of a woman too old for him.”
Elizabeth tensed, realizing that her father knew about her brother’s taboo romance. She wondered how he had learned about it but she was grateful that she was not carrying the burden of the secret alone anymore.
Father is right—David should not be near Lady Chamberlain. Some time away will give him some perspective. Perhaps he will find someone more suited to his age here in Pembroke.
“You agreed to come for David?” Elizabeth asked but there was dubiousness in her tone. She did not fully accept that as her father’s reasoning.
“Not only for him,” Percival insisted. “For Frances also. Can you not see how smitten she is with Mr. Barlough?”
Elizabeth was unsure about how she felt on the subject and she was surprised her father would be so free to accept the barrister into her sister’s life.
“But Father you must know nothing can materialize from their infatuation.”
“I also know I have never seen Frances so obedient nor content. She has been on her best behavior since Mr. Barlough came into her life. I would hardly deny her this small pleasure if it puts a smile upon her face—and keeps her from running amok.”
Guilt slid through Elizabeth and she lowered her gaze. Suddenly she felt terribly embarrassed.
“So you see, my dear Liza, my decisions in life are not always about you. I think of your brother and sister even if you forget them.”
He was meant to be teasing but there was a note of disapproval in the Viscount’s voice.
“I could not very well leave you alone in the manor while we were gone for such a period,” Percival continued. “I will not deny that I am aware of the Duke’s affections for you, Liza but I take offense that you would look at me as a conspirator in your future. I daresay, I know you much too well to force any sort of romance upon you.”
“I am sorry, Father,” Elizabeth murmured, her eyes fixed on the floor as contrition filled her body. “You are correct—I have been selfish.”
“You are not selfish, child but you oft do not see the full situation before you leap to conclusions. There is always a much bigger picture to examine.”
