Page 32 of The Curious Life of the Unfortunate Duchess
There was no doubt to Elizabeth that the Duke had not overstated the virtues of hunting to her father. The forest did seem to carry on as far as the eye could see. All about her, she could hear the calls of the wildlife as they cried out to one another and it filled Elizabeth with a sense of peace and unity, knowing that they belonged to the same world.
She had managed to make herself scarce, lingering in her suites since her arrival but her servant explained that dinner would be served promptly at seven o’clock and Elizabeth knew she was, of course, expected to be present.
“Shall I help you dress, Miss Elizabeth?” Cora asked. The Viscount’s daughter had little choice but to agree. She knew that fighting the overwhelming desire she had to see the Duke was not going to benefit her in the least. Logically, Elizabeth understood that she should keep her distance from the man but in her heart, she knew it was an impossibility.
He invited my father and brother here specifically for my presence. He is shameless!
Yet Elizabeth was abashedly flattered by the attention. She wondered if the Duke would try as hard to capture her attention if she had given it to him with more freedom. She doubted it very much but it was hard to say.
A part of her was troubled by the fact that her father had so actively agreed to participate in the transparent matchmaking. The Viscount had never attempted anything so brazen before. Elizabeth pondered that perhaps her father was more eager to see her married than he had ever mentioned.
Cora unfastened the buttons of her dress from the back but Elizabeth stopped her suddenly.
“I would like to see my father before I dress for supper,” she explained. “Where are his chambers?”
Cora eyed her uncertainly and Elizabeth wondered why. Her question was immediately answered.
“I will take you, Miss Elizabeth but there is not a great deal of time to dress,” she said warily. Elizabeth’s dark eyebrows rose curiously.
“Is the Duke quite strict?” she asked. Elizabeth would not have imagined the master of the manor as someone to be feared but suddenly, she thought of Lucy, the starving servant girl in Fife. Cora did not appear to be mistreated or malnourished but looks could be deceiving. She hoped that the Duke was not cruel to those in his employ. To her surprise, Cora giggled.
“His Grace is certainly not,” the maid chuckled. “But Lady Catherine does have quite a temper when she does not eat according to schedule.”
Cora’s face twisted into a look of surprise as if she had realized too late she had spoken out of turn and she lowered her eyes in shame.
“Please do not tell Lady Catherine I said any such thing,” she begged.
“I will be quick about it,” Elizabeth assured the maid. “And I will not antagonize Lady Catherine nor tell her a word of what you said.”
Elizabeth had yet to meet the Duke’s sister properly but she had heard rumors about the lady’s infamous discord. Elizabeth did not put much stock into the truth of rumors, however.
“Of course, Miss Elizabeth. Forgive me. Of course you are free to do as you please here. It is the Duke’s orders that you are permitted anywhere you desire. Please disregard my concerns.”
Elizabeth turned from the mirror and faced the servant earnestly.
“I appreciate your concerns,” she told Cora earnestly. “I will not disregard them. You may speak freely with me. I will not betray your confidences, on my honor.”
Cora was taken aback by the unexpected words of kindness and she lowered her eyes shyly.
“You are most kind, Miss Elizabeth. I can see why the Duke has great affections for you.”
It was Elizabeth’s turn to be surprised and her mouth gaped. What kind of household was it where the servants were so free with not only their words but their knowledge of their employer’s affections? She decided not to pursue the matter.
“If you will follow me, Miss Elizabeth,” Cora continued hastily, clearly sensing she was in territory she should not have breeched. “Lord Gordon’s apartment is this way.”
The women moved toward the hall and in minutes, Elizabeth found herself at the heavy door to her father’s chambers.
“You may return to my quarters. I will be along shortly and I will dress for supper forthwith.”
“Yes, Miss Elizabeth.”
Cora retreated into the shadows and Elizabeth turned back to the closed door. She inhaled sharply before raising a hand to knock heavily against the wood.
“Who is there?” Percival called out. “It is time for supper?”
“It is me, Father, Liza.”
In seconds, the door opened and she stood staring at her father who had already dressed for supper. He looked quite dapper in his blue waistcoat, a white shirt crisp beneath his vest, starched and proper. The Viscount stared at his daughter with worry.
