Page 27 of The Curious Life of the Unfortunate Duchess
“No, but Father has promised to take me on a hunt.”
“How wonderful,” Elizabeth said sincerely. She was pleased to know the Viscount was making an effort to bond with his only son. Her father often grew too busy to do such things with David and she knew her brother enjoyed the time spent with him.
“When will you leave on this trip?”
“We will all go,” David explained and Elizabeth laughed, believing her brother to be joking.
“I daresay, Franny and I are terrible marksmen. Unless you are considering using us as bait, I think you and Father will have much better luck than we will.”
“You will not hunt, Liza,” David told her with mild exasperation. “But you will travel with us. Has Father not told you?”
Elizabeth realized he was not jesting and her brow crunched in confusion. A pang of uncertainty touched her heart as Frances’ earlier words echoed in her ears.
“Travel where?” Elizabeth asked slowly. Elizabeth was beginning to wonder ifshewas the one dreaming. The conversations she was having that day appeared to possess a surreal quality and lack sense.
“See?”
Before David could answer her query, Frances reappeared and thrust a fistful of pages into Elizabeth’s arms.
“What is this?” Elizabeth sighed, willing some clarity in all matters surrounding her.
“Mr. Barlough has been writing me, just as I said.”
Slowly, Elizabeth gazed from her sister’s insistent face to the handful of letters in her hands.
“You may read them!” Frances insisted. “Go on.”
“I…” Unable to resist, Elizabeth glanced down and saw to her shock that her sister spoke the truth.
Has she written these to herself?
The penmanship was not Frances’ but what other explanation could there be?
“How in God’s name did you receive so many letters in such a short time?” Elizabeth wished to know. “It had only been a fortnight!”
“Oh,” David chuckled, saving his sister from responding. “Mr. Barlough has been sending them via messenger.”
“You must be joking!” Elizabeth gasped, again looking at the neat, even scrawl on the pages. She did not wish to invade Frances’ privacy but she could not stop herself from reading the sweet words Herbert had written to her sister. Nothing in the pages was improper nor crude. They appeared to be written by a man seeking nothing more than the attention and friendship of a woman whom he called “angel” in every letter.
“You see?” Frances demanded again and Elizabeth could see she awaited an apology for being doubted.
“I do see,” Elizabeth replied. “Forgive me for believing otherwise.”
A smile lit Frances’ face and Elizabeth could see it was already forgotten. She reached back to take the letters from her sister.
“He is smitten with her,” David laughed. “I have never seen a man as endeared.”
“I do hope his intentions are pure,” Elizabeth murmured but it was meant more as a private thought than one her brother needed to address. Frances had already skipped away and out of earshot.
“I do not believe Herbert Barlough has one poppyseed of ill in his blood—even if he is a barrister”
The siblings exchanged a grin but Elizabeth felt a pang of regret in her gut. She was happy her sister had found someone who adored her so well but she could not forget the way she had felt under the steadfast gaze of the Duke of Pembroke. Reasonably, she knew she was nothing more than a passing fancy for the Duke but she could not forget the way he had protected her from Lord Cooke at the wedding. Nor could she forget that he had ended his engagement in the middle of a wedding ceremony. Elizabeth had never been so conflicted over forming an opinion of a person in her life. Frances’ words echoed through her mind.
“The Duke asks of you.”
Elizabeth reasoned if he did, it was of politeness rather than interest.
Although he did end his engagement to Miss Priscilla in the most public and humiliating way. Was that for my benefit or—
