Page 53 of In Scandal with the Duke
“Is this not a good thing? Why are you overwhelmed?” her mother asked, setting aside the delicate embroidery she was stitching.
“I have never been lucky enough to be invited to one of the duchess’s yearly midnight balls. Only the top echelon of thetonis usually favored.” Her aunt continued to fan herself slowly, clearly trying to recover from her initial shock. “I just cannot believe our good fortune. The Duchess of Basil’s invitations are like golden tickets, and here we are, suddenly among the chosen.”
Her mother looked on with delight, clearly pleased with the unexpected social elevation. “It’s all thanks to you, Bette.”
“Mama, please, it’s just an invitation. The duke is simply being courteous,” Elizabeth tried to temper her mother’s excitement with reality, though her own heart fluttered.
Her mother and aunt exchanged a look that Elizabeth had come to recognize—one full of plans and hopes, the kind that usually led to incessant talks of potential suitors and matrimonial strategies. She internally groaned at the prospect of enduring another round of their matchmaking efforts. Just then, her eyes caught sight of a letter bearing her father’s familiar handwriting. A surge of excitement replaced her frustration. “It’s a letter from Papa!”
“I see you are eager to read it,” her mother said, her voice warm with understanding. “Go ahead to your room or the smaller parlor. Your aunt and I need to discuss something important.”
Elizabeth quickly agreed. “I shall return in a few minutes.”
She gingerly picked up the letter, her heart quivering with anticipation. She swiftly left the drawing room, her thoughts already racing with the possibilities of the news her father might have sent. Upon reaching the solace of her own room, she could hardly wait to sit before breaking the seal of the letter. Elizabeth unfolded the paper eagerly, her eyes darting across the lines, searching for news of her family’s well-being, her father’s business, or perhaps some updates about Cassandra and William.
My dearest Bette,
It seems scarcely a day has passed since your departure, yet I find myself deeply missing your presence and the many questions you would ask me about work at the end of the day. I am eagerly awaiting your first letter, which I hope will be as expansive and detailed as our usual conversations. I am keen to hear about every aspect of your six-week journey to England. I trust you found wonder in each day and that the seas were kind to you.
Tell me everything about the places you have visited. I unashamedly confess I want to live vicariously through your adventures in England. And what of your brother? How is Brandon faring? Has he managed to keep healthy? Does he seem content? His letters are so focused on business that he forgets his father is more interested in his son’s happiness than his commercial success. Please let me know about his well-being, as he seldom gives away much in his correspondence.
Bette, I must also express a father’s concern. If you find that life in England does not bring you joy, do not feel obliged to stay. Remember, your happiness is paramount, and if that means returning to New York, do so without a second thought. Though your mother has grand plans for matchmaking, I trust that you will follow your heart in these matters. I hope, sincerely, that if you do find someone, he is a gentleman worthy of your love and one who cherishes you deeply in return.
Should circumstances lead you back home, know that a place awaits you in our family business. Your insights have always been invaluable to me, and I would be delighted to teach you more about our operations. Whether working closely with me or from the comfort of your home, I am confident in your abilities and would relish the opportunity to have you by my side professionally. Do not think about what your mother will say or feel. She will eventually come around.
Until we meet again, remember that you are never far from my thoughts. Take care, my dear daughter, and write soon.
With all my love, your father,
Archibald Armstrong
“Oh, Papa, I miss you too, and dare you speak to Mama about me working?” she asked, wincing at imagining her mother’s reaction. She glanced back at the line that had wrenched emotions she did not want to break apart through her heart.
I hope, sincerely, that if you do find someone, he is a gentleman worthy of your love and one who cherishes you deeply in return.
“How I wish I could give you the happy news that I found a man I love …”
James’s silver eyes and a sensual smile rose in her thoughts. Wild flutters went off in her belly, and an almost agonizing ache rose in her heart. Pushing aside her longing, knowing the futility of sliding too deep, Elizabeth folded her father’s letter and placed it in her hatbox. Today, she would visit Kensington Gardens and perhaps the bookstore again. What she would not do is yearn for impossible things, muddling her heart more than it already was.
* * *
A few daysafter receiving the duchess’s invitation, Elizabeth, along with her aunt and mother, stepped into the opulent townhouse in Berkeley Square. The grandeur of the ballroom immediately captivated her. It was a vision in white, gold, and touches of blue, all set against the backdrop of richly draped velvet curtains adorned with golden tassels that framed the massive front windows. The room was alive with a harmonious blend of music, laughter, and spirited conversation. At the far end, the ballroom extended to meet the glazed doors that opened onto the small, meticulously curated gardens, leaving the drapes unclosed to integrate the lush greenery into the evening’s ambiance.
“I wonder if the duke will be here tonight,” Aunt Sally murmured softly, her voice tinged with curiosity.
“The duchess is his mother,” Elizabeth reminded her, a hint of amusement in her tone.
Her mother and aunt exchanged a knowing glance, causing Elizabeth to frown slightly in apprehension. “Mama … please do not read too much into our receiving an invitation.”
“The duchess has hosted this ball annually for the last six years. This is the first time we have ever been invited,” her aunt noted, fanning herself lightly while hiding a sly smile behind her fan. “I can say with confidence that we received it because of the duke’s regard for you, Bette.”
Just then, a ripple of excitement swept through the crowd. Aunt Sally’s eyes sparkled with delight. Elizabeth turned, her cheeks warming with a blush, as she saw James approaching directly toward her. While she was thrilled to see him, she knew she would now have to navigate the evening carefully to keep her mother and aunt’s matchmaking ambitions at bay. She caught the brief look of surprise in his mother, the duchess’s, eyes before she composed her features into a polite mask.
“Miss Armstrong,” James greeted her with a low, slightly teasing tone, wicked deviltry gleaming in his eyes. “Would you honor me with the next dance? I have it on the highest authority that a waltz is the next set.”
Elizabeth knew without a doubt that he had arranged for a waltz to be played next. She gracefully curtsied and placed her hand in his, letting him lead her onto the dance floor. Being held in his arms felt sinfully delightful. As they danced, James smiled and drew her closer, guiding her through the steps with masculine grace. They moved in perfect sync, the world around them blurring into a swirl of colors and sounds.
“Within the next hour, meet me in the library.”
