Page 81 of Duke of Silver
Her aunt, Petunia, noticed the cracks forming in her composure. Elizabeth had tried to hide it, but there was no concealing the pain that weighed on her heart.
One afternoon, as they sat together in the drawing room, Petunia finally broached the subject.
"Elizabeth," her aunt began gently, setting aside her embroidery. "You’ve seemed troubled ever since you arrived. I know it isn’t my place, but... what is truly going on, darling?"
Elizabeth felt the weight of her aunt’s kind gaze upon her, and for a moment, she hesitated. But the knot of emotions that had been building inside her for days was too much to bear any longer. Tears welled in her eyes as she set down her tea, her hands trembling slightly.
"I’ve fallen in love with him, Aunt Petunia," she confessed, her voice breaking. "I’ve fallen in love with Alexander, and now I fear I’ve lost him completely."
Her aunt’s eyes softened with understanding, and she reached for Elizabeth’s hand, holding it between her own. "Oh, my dear child," Petunia said quietly, "why do you think you’ve lost him?"
Elizabeth shook her head, the tears she had been holding back spilling over. "He doesn’t care, Aunt. Not in the way I want him to. And I can’t bear it. I thought I could handle this arrangement. But now... now it’s too late. I love him, and he—" her voice faltered. "He will never love me back."
Petunia pulled her into a tight embrace, her hand smoothing over Elizabeth’s hair as she whispered soothing words. "There, there, my love. All will be well, you’ll see. Men are often more foolish about their feelings than we give them credit for."
Elizabeth let out a shaky breath, trying to draw comfort from her aunt’s words, but the pain remained lodged in her chest. Just asPetunia was about to speak again, the butler entered the room, carrying a small tray with missives and invitations.
“Missives and invitations, Your Grace,” the butler announced, placing the tray on the side table.
Elizabeth dried her eyes quickly, composing herself as best as she could. She picked up the pile of correspondence, her fingers fumbling slightly as she sorted through them. One in particular caught her eye.
“Colin is hosting a soirée?” she said aloud, her voice tinged with surprise.
Her aunt smiled. “He always did enjoy entertaining.”
But before Elizabeth could respond, the butler handed her another envelope—an invitation addressed specifically to the Duke and Duchess of Sterlin. A note was attached. Elizabeth’s brow furrowed as she carefully opened the missive, and her breath caught when she saw the familiar script. It was from Alexander.
Her heart raced as she unfolded the letter, her eyes scanning the words quickly. It was brief, formal—almost curt.
Elizabeth,
I enclose your copy of the invitation to Lord Broughton’s soirée. I will come to fetch you tomorrow evening. It is only proper that we attend together, as he is a good friend to us both.
—Alexander
The words felt like a blow. Not a single mention of their argument. Not a word of apology or acknowledgment. It was as if nothing had happened between them, as though she hadn’t left, as though her absence had meant nothing to him. Elizabeth’s heart clenched painfully. He hadn’t reached out in days, and now, when he finally did, it was to inform her of a social obligation. Cold. Distant. Detached.
She didn’t know what she had expected—perhaps an apology, perhaps a sign that he missed her. But this? This was worse than silence. It was as if her leaving had made no difference to him at all.
Her hands trembled slightly as she folded the letter back into the envelope. Yet, despite the pain, she couldn’t deny that Colin’s invitation deserved to be honored. She had grown fond of the Marquess, and their friendship should not suffer because of her marital troubles.
"Will you go?" Petunia asked gently, her voice filled with concern as she saw the tension in Elizabeth’s features. "You don’t have to if you’re not ready, darling. We can simply make your excuses to the Marquess and to your husband."
Elizabeth shook her head, her resolve hardening. "No, Aunty. I shall go," she said firmly. "Colin deserves that much. I will not let my personal feelings get in the way of my duties as a wife. I owe him that. And..." she hesitated, "I owe Alexander that much too."
Her voice wavered slightly on the last sentence, but she forced a weak smile. "It is my duty, after all."
Petunia looked at her with sorrowful eyes, seeing the battle Elizabeth was waging within herself. She pulled her niece into another warm embrace. “I love you, darling. And you must know, all will be well in the end.”
“I love you too, Aunty,” Elizabeth whispered, though her heart felt heavy, and the tears threatened to spill once more.
As Petunia held her close, Elizabeth tried to steel herself for the coming evening. She would play the role of the Duchess, as she had always done. She would stand beside her husband and maintain their facade. But deep down, she knew—this might be the last time she could pretend. The last time she could hold herself together before everything truly fell apart.
CHAPTER 36
The carriage ride to the Dowshire residence felt longer than it should have. Alexander’s heart pounded with every passing second, his mind racing with uncertainties. What would he say to her? How could he face her after everything that had happened? His hands tightened around his gloves as the carriage came to a halt, and he took a steadying breath before stepping out.
As he entered the drawing room, he was greeted by Lord Dowshire. The older man smiled warmly, though there was a hint of his knowledge of the situation in his gaze.
