Page 70 of An Earl Like You
The music and the conversation around her blended into a dull roar. Eliza felt numb. She wanted to call Sir Richard a liar, she wanted to slap her hands over her ears and run away, she wanted to stop thinking that his words made so much sense. A handsome, eligible earl. A sudden business dealing with her father, when Papa rarely did business with noblemen directly. So many calls and visits when Papa was away. Papa’s insistence that an earl could marry a girl like her if he wanted to.
In front of her, Sir Richard said something excusing himself. Still smiling like a cat who’d found the cream pot, he bowed and walked away. Eliza watched him go, frozen in shock and mounting horror.
The slightly shabby house, unfit for an earl’s household. The lack of funds for new draperies. The way Hugh appeared at the theater, after Papa maneuvered to keep her from inviting Georgiana. The dowager’s coolness to her—Henrietta’s and Edith’s disdain—even the way he seduced her so soon after proposing, ensuring she couldn’t change her mind.
Eliza covered her mouth with one hand as every kiss, every touch, every seemingly besotted act flashed through her mind in new and sinister colors. Had her father bought him? Papa had teased and teased about finding a penniless nobleman to marry her. But she hadn’t thought Hugh was penniless—it had lulled her into thinking he must actually care for her.
Had it all been a lie?
“Eliza!” Edith touched her arm. Her bright smile faded when Eliza jerked and almost recoiled from her hand. “Are you unwell?” the girl asked in concern.
“No, I...” Eliza pressed her hands to her temples. Could it be true? “What did you want, Edith?”
“Mama sent me to find you,” said her sister-in-law. Some of her excitement returned. “Lord William Parker-Jones has asked permission to call upon Henrietta. Mama wants to present him to you.”
Papa had always been a speculator. She’d had to tell him not to interfere in her marriage. He asked about grandchildren every time he came to visit—always when Hugh, as well as his mother and sisters, was away from the house. Was that coincidence? Hugh had hardly said one word about Papa since their wedding, despite being so involved in business with him before the wedding that he had to come to Greenwich several times.
Could it be true? Was everything about her marriage a lie?
“Eliza?” asked Edith in concern. “You look ghastly. Let me fetch Hugh.”
“No!” She seized Edith’s wrist. “No—I—I have a headache. Absolutely splitting, I’m afraid. Can—will you help me go home?”
“Oh no, let me fetch Hugh to take you,” the girl began.
Eliza squeezed her wrist. “No, no—I can’t wait.” The other girl stared at her in alarm, her blue eyes as round as saucers. Eliza tried to smile. “I don’t want to ruin everyone’s evening,” she said. “Not when Henrietta has such happy news. Please just... tell them I went home. I’m sure I’ll be fine after a cup of tea and some rest.”
“I really think—”
“Edith!” She squeezed again, harder. “Please help me. I want the carriage.”
“Hugh will take you home,” whispered the girl, now looking frightened.
Eliza did not want Hugh, not now. If she saw him now, she would say something she might regret later—or worse, something she regretted immediately. If she let Edith go, the girl would run to tell him. “Walk with me, please,” she said to Edith. “Then you may go tell Hugh. I need to go home.”
Edith slowly nodded. Eliza exhaled in relief, but when she took a step toward the door, she nearly fell. She had been standing so stiffly, her knees almost buckled when she tried to walk. With a startled exclamation, Edith threw her arm around Eliza’s waist and supported her. “My goodness, Eliza, are you certain you can make it home?”
“There’s nowhere to lie down here,” Eliza said.
“The retiring room—”
“It’s so crowded and noisy in there, it will make my head ache even worse.” She fixed her eyes on the arched doorway, flanked by pilasters festooned with swags of ivy and silk flowers. Lady Montgomery had spared no expense tonight. Just like Hugh, once he had her dowry funds. Once Papa had paid all his debts.
Edith said nothing more until they reached the vestibule. Then she asked a servant to summon the Hastings carriage, and sent another to find Eliza’s cloak.
“Stay with me,” Eliza said, a fine tremor in her voice.
“I will,” promised Edith, sounding worried. “I can send one of the footmen for a doctor—”
“I don’t think that’s necessary.” She looked at Edith, who had hated her so much and been jilted because of her, and who now looked so concerned for her. Did Edith know? Eliza released the girl’s arm and mustered a smile. “It’s only a headache. I’m not used to balls, you know—I danced too much, and it’s so loud. I just need to go home. You’ll let Hugh know, won’t you?”
A wide, relieved smile broke out on Edith’s face. “Of course! I—I almost thought you didn’t want me to tell him, for a moment. But that was silly, wasn’t it? He’ll be right behind you, you know, no matter what I tell him.” She laughed sheepishly, shaking her head as if she’d been silly. “I could tell him you lost a shoe buckle and he’d follow you home. He’s as devoted as a puppy.”
A puppy. If Sir Richard was right, Hugh had been lying to her almost from the moment they met.
Eliza stepped into the carriage and sank into the seat. She waved at Edith, watching from the steps, and the girl waved back, smiling again. “Be well,” Edith called as the driver set the horses in motion. “Finch, drive slowly,” she added to the coachman.
Eliza let the swaying of the carriage rock her from side to side; she didn’t want to think or feel at the moment. Perhaps it was all wrong. Perhaps Sir Richard was a liar, or had misunderstood what Papa intended in buying his note from Hugh’s father. Perhaps Hugh didn’t even know Papa had bought the debt. She’d never heard Hugh or any of his family mention Sir Richard, for all the man’s claims to being an old friend. The shock of his charge had made her flee, but perhaps once she had some space, some time to think about it, a sensible explanation would come to her.
