Page 58 of In Scandal with the Duke
“I cannot believe a gentleman could be this callous,” her mother said faintly. “I keep expecting that he will call and make an offer. His cruel callousness—”
A laugh escaped Elizabeth. “Callous? The duke is not callous.”
Her aunt’s spine stiffened. “Do you dare defend him after the disgrace that was laid at our door? Have you read the scandal sheet I gave you?”
“It is quite evident I am caught in a most dreadful scandal with the duke. However, this disgrace was brought by both your actions! How could you do this and then lay the blame elsewhere? If I am ruined, it is only because you—”
Her mother pinned her with a fierce glare. “I did what I did for you to secure your future, Bette.”
“Mother, you ruined whatever reputation I had! You ruined … ruined the friendship …” Her voice cracked, and her throat closed over the words.
“What is that?” she demanded scathingly. Her mother directed a quelling look at her. “Friendship?Did you think I had no notion of the times you slipped away from a ball to be outside in the gardens with the duke? I saw you both kissing. I had to do something to push his hand, and I promise you will thank me for it.”
Elizabeth’s heart was shattered. She said, “You will never get my gratitude for compromising me and someone in that shameless manner.”
“I caught you a duke!”
She felt a sharp thump of panic, recalling the cold disdain on his face. “You caught me a duke?” Elizabeth cried, tears burning her eyes. “He willnevercome and make an offer for me. You caught me disgust and resentment from a gentleman who believes I had something to do with this compromising trap! Once his disgust fades, I will then endure his resentment! How could you, Mama?”
“Do not be foolish, Elizabeth. I had the chance to make you aduchess. Do you even try and understand my efforts? There was nothing more important to me than securing a marriage for you. Can you not understand the dread I felt at the thought of you being alone and empty with no children or a husband to call your own? What else can be more important?”
Shocked, she stared at her mother. Who was this creature before her? Surely not the woman who had grown her on tales of falling in love with her father before he had become a magnate, a shipping tycoon revered in their elevated circles in New York.
“Love,” Elizabeth said softly, tears stinging her eyes. “Even if not a burning, passionate love, I would hope for a measure of friendship, respect, and affection from the man I marry.”
Her mother’s expression crumpled. “I only wanted to help you, Bette, and—”
“I did not need that help! I never dreamed of being the Duchess of Basil! I did not dare. When have I ever been so elevated in my ambitions that I thought I could be a duchess? Ladies who are duchesses are born, not American misses who hardly understand the rules of theton. They are ladies who are taught how to be the perfect hostess for a duke. Duchesses have powerful families and connections to assist their dukes in their political endeavors. I never hungered for that!”
A harsh sob tore from Elizabeth. “I admit it … I fell hopelessly in love with the duke, but I did so knowing our connection was only a moment in time. I would never marry someone through deceptive means, and, Mother, I assure you, His Grace wouldneverbow to such manipulations. He might have returned my sentiments. Then I recall the contempt His Grace had in his eyes when he looked at me and knew I was only being foolish and fanciful. You did not help me. You hurt me terribly.”
“You must marry, Bette,” another voice said. “If not the duke, someone else. It is the only way to fix this.”
She whirled around as her brother walked into the room. His eyes were dark with unnamed emotions, but she was familiar with the way he braced his shoulders in preparation for a fight.
“You are nonsensical,” she said, brushing away the tears on her cheeks. “I feel as if my heart shattered, and you speak to me of marrying someone else?”
“Mother told me she saw you clutched in a very intimate embrace with the duke,” Brandon said quietly. “That was a few balls ago. She then realized he was taking advantage and tried to force his hand. We cannot blame mama—”
“Do you know so little of my character that you would believe someone has the power to take advantage of me,” Elizabeth said softly, standing and walking toward Brandon. “I walked into the duke’s arms … willingly. Mama could have spoken to me; she could have tried to understand me or wait to see if what we had could become more. Instead, she was manipulative and deceitful to a man who loathes dishonesty. How … how ...”
Her voice cracked, and she pressed a palm over her mouth, desperate to suppress the awful emotions tearing her apart. “How many times has someone tried to trap the duke into marriage?”
Brandon sighed. “Bette, please—”
“How often,” she cried.
“Several times.”
“Precisely so. Why would he see mother’s effort in a less contemptible light than all others who tried? Why would he see me as different? How can I … resent him for blaming me?”
Her brother tugged her into his arms and hugged her. Shaking, Elizabeth clutched him, sobbing.
“I expect different from Basil,” Brandon murmured, “for if he spent time with you, he should have known the measure of woman that you are.”
Elizabeth slammed her eyes closed, the pain she had been trying to suppress pouring through her with such intensity that she trembled. For her brother’s awareness was one she realized the very first night he walked away from her, that cold, burning contempt in his gaze.
“I am begging you, Bette, please forgive mother and aunt. We need to rally and find a solution, not fight. Marriage is the only way to fix your reputation.”
