Page 53 of The Curious Life of the Unfortunate Duchess
“I am surprised at you, Elizabeth. I would have thought you to be braver. One witless wench is causing you to falter? I thought you were better than that.”
“Bravery has little to do with the matter. I simply do not wish to have another encounter like the one we endured in town. Have you forgotten how inconsolable Frances was following that exchange?”
Uncertainty flashed in Catherine’s eyes and a look of contrition fell upon her face. It was clear she had forgotten how badly Frances had reacted to Priscilla and she instantly nodded. Even with her sometimes crass manners, Catherine did not wish to console Frances in the throes of a fit, not when high society was watching.
“Of course,” she mumbled, pink tinging her fair cheeks. “Forgive me, Elizabeth. I did not think of Frances.”
Elizabeth did not have time to be upset with Catherine for her apprehension was growing with each word they spoke. She could feel trouble simmering among them, closing in around her like a cloud of noxious air.
“I will collect Frances,” Elizabeth said again. “Do keep an eye open for Miss Priscilla, lest she see us first. If she does, distract her and I will escort Frances to the carriage before she can see.”
“Of course, Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth spun to look for Frances who she easily found, floating alone to the music.
“Come along, Franny. We must return to Brookside.”
Frances abruptly stopped her romantic swaying to gape at her sister.
“We have only just arrived,” she declared, shaking her dark head of hair. “Why must we leave?”
Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder, prickles slithering down her spine. Not far away, Lord Cooke stared at her without subtly, his tongue lolling out to lick at his bottom lip lewdly and she shuddered involuntarily. His leering was unmistakable.
“The Duke has sent a messenger,” Elizabeth fibbed. “We must leave at once.”
She did loathe lying particularly to her guileless sister but it was necessary. Elizabeth knew Frances was apt to cause a scene if there was not a just cause for removing her from such an affair.
“What happened?” Frances demanded, worry clouding her eyes. “Is it Mr. Barlough?”
“I cannot say. I have no further information but we must leave at once. Please, Frances, there is no time to waste. It is a matter of great urgency.”
She pulled on her sister’s hand and Frances reluctantly permitted herself to be moved along but not without casting a longing gaze behind her as the party disappeared behind the walls of the Smitherson mansion. Catherine waited for them at the entranceway. To Elizabeth’s discontent, Lord Cooke had also followed them into the yard but he did maintain his distance. Elizabeth looked away quickly but not before Catherine caught her gaze.
“Was he not the swag-bellied twat who was troubling you at Lord Curry’s wedding?” Catherine asked, staring rudely at Lord Cooke.
“Catherine! Never mind Lord Cooke. Have you seen…her?” Elizabeth glanced at her sister, cautious not to mention Priscilla by name, lest she upset Frances. Unfortunately, Catherine did not share in her decorum.
“I have yet to see her,” the Duke’s sister confided. “But I did see the Baron of Argonshire. I imagine that Priscilla is nearby.”
“Miss Priscilla?” Frances screeched. “Is she here? The Duke promised that she would be no bother, that we are protected.”
“It matters not,” Elizabeth said firmly, leading the women toward their coach. “We must leave.”
In her mounting anxiety, Elizabeth had forgotten about Bernadette who had once more been swallowed by the crowd.
The coachman was surprised to see them and he glanced nervously about.
“Are you leaving?” Jasper asked, seeming confused.
“We must return to Brookside,” Catherine explained to him and he nodded quickly. “At once.”
“Yes, my Lady.”
Elizabeth could feel the blood roaring in her ears as the scrambled into the carriage, her heart racing wildly as she realized how close she had come to a worrisome confrontation with either Priscilla or Lord Cooke. It was not until the horses began to trot away from the Smitherson’s lavish party that Elizabeth begin to breathe with more ease.
Perhaps it is a blessing I will be returning home in a few days. I will not be apt to see either of their faces again…
She wondered if that was true for she could not feel contentment about leaving Pembroke, even though it meant a rest from the vindictive and petty Priscilla Arquette.
