“I seek the lord of the manor,” he intoned and produced a sealed paper in his gloved hand. “Percival, Lord of Gordon.”
“I am Miss Elizabeth Follett, daughter of Lord Gordon. I will accept the message on his behalf.”
The messenger appeared wary but Elizabeth recognized the unmistakable glint of interest in his eye as he stared at the lovely woman before him.
“I am to deliver this to the lord himself…” he drawled slowly. Elizabeth cast her brother a bothered look. The messenger was merely being difficult and she was having none of it.
“Then I suggest you travel to London where he has gone to attend his business,” Elizabeth told him curtly, her patience having expired with the surly rider. “Come along, Mr. Follett.”
Her chestnut tresses fanned as she spun and she heard the messenger sputter in her wake.
“Miss Elizabeth!” he called hastily. Slowly, she turned but not before shooting her brother a triumphant look.
“Yes?”
“Perhaps I can make an exception in this case,” he muttered and Elizabeth realized he was studying her face closely. His arrogant disposition diminished considerably, an unbridled respect shining in his irises.
“I would not want to see your position compromised,” Elizabeth replied haughtily. She held his gaze evenly, her bright amber eyes glowing. A softness which Elizabeth knew well fell over his expression and he extended his hand to deliver the letter.
“Forgive my earlier dismissal,” he said, lowering his head. “Of course, I will entrust you to deliver this letter to Lord Gordon.”
Elizabeth offered him a cold smile and extended a white gloved hand to retrieve the page.
“I will see that he gets it upon his return,” she told the man. “You may go.”
She did not await his response and turned back to the house, her brother close at her heels.
“My God, Liza, your beauty knows no bounds,” David chuckled but there was appreciative awe in his words. “You turn men to pillars of salt with a simple stare. He was not entertaining the notion of giving you the letter until he looked upon your face.”
A blush of embarrassment touched Elizabeth’s cheeks but she did not allow her brother to see it.
“Some men are merely foolish amidst the fairer sex,” Elizabeth replied. “It would matter not if I was comely or plain.”
“I daresay, sweet sister, most are foolish in your company. It never fails to amaze me how men fall at your feet. You shall have your pick of husbands. If only you would settle for one.”
Elizabeth did not pay mind to his comment, the reminder of her attractiveness unnecessary. From the moment she was birthed, it seemed, Elizabeth had been revered for her surreal beauty. There were few who could boast the radiant, fair complexion of thick cream nor the elegant structure of cheeks and chin which Elizabeth Follett could claim. Her vivid golden eyes, against the flow of cascading hair, shocked the most casual observer. Her father had oft told the tale that Elizabeth had been kissed by angels in the womb, hence her ethereal charms. Elizabeth knew she resembled her mother but she had little doubt whose disposition she shared.
I remain unmarried and without a suitor, much to Father’s chagrin. He does not understand that the noblemen bore me with their flattery and idle conversation. Some are more prone to gossip than the busybodies in the town. I cannot envision such a mundane life as wife to such a man.
“Will you read the letter?” David asked curiously when they entered the house. “Or shall we wait for Father to return from London?”
Elizabeth rose her finger to her lips to keep him quiet. She wanted to ensure there were no servants in earshot of them. Whatever news the letter held was not for them to hear. Only matters of importance would be delivered in such a manner and whatever the envelope contained should reach only the eyes of whom it was intended. When she was content they were unobserved, she nodded and gestured for David to follow her into the front salon.
“Shut the door,” she whispered. “I do not wish Frances to enter unannounced. Should the news be unpleasant, she need not hear it.”
David obliged, securing the door, and hurried back to his sister’s side. The dainty scrawl in black ink was simply addressed to Lord Gordon and Household.
“I am afraid to know what it is.” Suddenly, David stared at her as if he debated whether to look. Elizabeth returned his gaze curiously.
“How so?” she asked.
“What if it is news concerning Father?” he demanded, his voice cracking at the idea. “Perhaps something has happened to him while he is in London! I do not wish to read of terrible news!”
A wry smile formed on Elizabeth’s lips and she reached across to pat her brother’s hand reassuringly. Oft times she forgot how achingly young David was.
“If it were such news,” she told him gently, “the letter would not be addressed to Father but to us, to you.”
Relief and embarrassment touched his face and he nodded in agreement.
“Indeed,” he murmured. “Is this unorthodox? Opening the message?”
“How? The address is clear—it is for the entire household. I imagine the messenger was merely being surly for sport,” Elizabeth replied, cracking at the wax seal. She recognized it as the insignia of the Fife estate.
“Why would the Baron of Fife send a message?” Elizabeth wondered, her interest piqued. She could not quite recall who the Baron of Fife was. The land was quite a distance to the east of Gordon and the Baron was certainly not a common figure in the duchy which they lived.
“Please!” David sighed. “The suspense keeps me with bated breath!”
Elizabeth had not noticed she had sunk into a reverie, all but forgetting about the message in her hands.
“Of course.” She looked down at the page and slowly, a smile appeared on her face.
“It is good news?” David asked with relief as he noticed her beam. “What is it?”
Elizabeth nodded, handing her younger sibling the page. The door to the salon opened and Frances entered, her eyes wide and curious. David cast her a nervous glance before eyeing Elizabeth imploringly.
“Why are you hiding in here?” she demanded, a look of hurt springing into her eyes.
“We are not hiding,” Elizabeth assured her and rose quickly from the settee to gesture her forth. “The household has received a letter by messenger.”
“A letter?”
“Indeed,” Elizabeth confirmed. “We have been invited to an event.”
France’s eyes brightened and she skipped gleefully in her spot.
“A gala! How wonderful! I will dance all the night away,” she chirped. “Do you suppose Father will permit me a new dress for the occasion? Oh, I do adore parties. I will require a new headdress, also. Will you help me find one perfectly appropriate?”
Elizabeth knew that her sister did not require answers to any of her excited questions. It was merely her way, to speak in rapid succession.
“It is not merely a party,” Elizabeth corrected her. “It is a wedding. The Baron’s daughter is getting married. It should prove to be an interesting affair.”
Chapter 3
Herbert paced the study in his typical, uneasy way, his myopic eyes darting about. He had the air of trapped prey about him, his chubby cheeks puffing as he fluttered about. If Leonard was to consider it with any great thought, he would liken the barrister to a wild turkey.
“My God, Herbert, do sit!” Leonard bemoaned. “You are causing me seasickness with your rocking about!”
“Forgive me, Your Grace. Time is of the essence in these matters. You must sign the papers and I must return them to court at once.”
“As you can plainly see, I am doing as you requested. Your fussing does not encourage my hand to work at any greater a speed. If anything at all, you are distracting me from focusing as I watch you through my peripheral vision!”
The barrister flushed slightly and nodded as he slowed his mad movements. He offered the Duke a sheepish smile
.
“Indeed,” he mumbled and forced himself to sit across from Leonard. The younger man shook his long hair in bemusement before returning his attention to the papers Herbert had brought him to sign. It was only commonplace material before him but the nervous Herbert Barlough could not resist behaving as if the papers were matters during wartime. A stray curl fell across Leonard’s broad forehead and he paused to brush it aside. He realized that Herbert stared at him intently and he sighed heavily.
“Herbert, what in God’s name is the matter? You are acting quite agitated, even for you. What is on your mind?”
Herbert’s eyes shot away from the Duke, embarrassment coloring his face with a stain of pink, visible even beneath his mutton-chops.
“Nothing, Your Grace,” he mumbled. “I…”
Leonard sat back and studied him carefully. He could sense that, indeed, something was weighing quite forcefully on the lawyer’s mind and he was curious to know what it was. Leonard had never known the man to be interested in anything but court matters and yet something else appeared to be demanding his attention.
“Out with it, Herbert. I will not flout you, I swear it.”
Herbert released a gust of air, the breeze touching Leonard despite the distance across the table, leaving the Duke to wonder how long Herbert had been holding his breath.
“I am rather looking forward to the wedding,” he mumbled, his embarrassment clear. Leonard’s back tensed at the mention but he willed himself to maintain a half-smile upon his face. It was not the response he had been expecting.
“Is that a fact? Why so?”
Herbert’s color deepened, the rose becoming a tell-tale red of shame and Leonard wondered if the barrister regretted sharing his thoughts.
“I do enjoy wedding ceremonies,” the man confessed. “The union of two households, the well-wishes, and of course, the festivities. It makes me joyous.”
Leonard felt nauseous at the idea of his wedding being a happy occasion for anyone, least of all his most trusted advisor.
Herbert will get more joy from it than I will, Leonard thought regretfully but he did not speak the bitter words aloud. He had promised not to jest the man, after all.
“Do you believe that Miss Priscilla and I make for a good match, Herbert?”
Startled, the barrister raised his eyes in confusion. He blinked his eyes several times before forming an answer.
“I-- well, of course, Your Grace. I would not have suggested the union if I did not believe so.”
“Politics aside, Herbert, I ask you if you believe Miss Priscilla and I are well suited for one another, not if you thought our families should unite.”
Leonard was sure he could hear the wheels of his lawyer’s mind turning while he considered the question.
“Herbert, it is not a query which requires much analysis,” Leonard groaned in exasperation. “I ask you as my confidant. Do you believe that Miss Priscilla and I are well-suited in disposition and constitution?”
He did not add the word “wits” for he feared what he would do should Herbert answer affirmatively.
“No, Your Grace, not particularly.”
Leonard laughed at the barrister’s candor.
“Nor do I.” He grinned dashingly at Herbert who was ready to flee in terror. It was one of the reasons Leonard thought so highly of the man. Guile had no place in his heart and the Duke felt as if he knew few people who could claim the same.
How can the man be in a perpetual state of panic? He has been a valued member of the duchy for years and yet he behaves as if his life hangs in the balance.
Leonard knew it was merely a matter of Herbert’s insecurities. The lawyer was not an attractive man; one who had been plagued with several mysterious illnesses in his childhood, and suffering which had left him unhealthy in his maturity. He was near-sighted and particularly pudgy but despite all his shortcomings, Herbert was a brilliant barrister. Leonard trusted him implicitly not only with the duchy’s affairs but with his own thoughts. He knew whatever he and Herbert discussed would not leave the barrister’s lips, no matter how questionable he might find it.
“But I do suppose marriage was inevitable,” Leonard continued, a note of sadness in his tone. “Miss Priscilla will make as good a wife as any other.”
Leonard was unsure that was true but relief flooded Herbert’s face and suddenly Leonard realized why the conversation had made him so uncomfortable.
He thought I was apt to end the engagement and he would be forced to tend to the aftermath of such a scandal.
Of course, the thought had entered Leonard’s mind on more than one occasion. Priscilla was bothersome and demanding. She did not respect Leonard’s need to attend duchy matters nor heed his constant hints to be left in peace. Or perhaps she did and simply did not care. In any case, it mattered not. A duke needed to be married and Priscilla was a good a match as any Leonard had found over the years. He was three-and-thirty, far past the point of being particular. If his father had not indulged Leonard’s desire to sow his wild oats, Leonard would have been wed long ago.
Alas, I am no longer Marquis. I am The Duke and must act accordingly. Being Duke means making sacrifices which may not please me. Such as marrying Miss Priscilla.
“Your Grace?”
“Yes, Herbert.”
Leonard refocused his eyes on the barrister who watched him with a slightly parted mouth. The Duke mistook his questioning look as a demand to hurry matters along.
“Ah, yes. I will see to the papers, Herbert. You need not ask again.”
He dipped the nib of the pen into a bottle of ink and continued to address the issues before him but after a moment, he noticed Herbert studied him with keen interest.
“What is it?” Leonard demanded. “Why do you watch me like that?”
“I realize you misunderstood me.”
Leonard’s brow furrowed.
“Have I? In what way?”
“It is not your wedding I am eager to attend,” Herbert explained quickly. His ruddy face paled and he shook his head.
“That is not what I meant to say. Of course, I am eager to attend your union, Your Grace but I was not speaking about your engagement.”
He trailed off, his eyes growing wider. Herbert was confused by the words coming out of his own mouth. Leonard stared at him, amused but losing his patience with each passing second.
“Herbert, you have been imbibing this morning?”
“Certainly not, Your Grace!”
The Duke chuckled. He had known the strait-laced solicitor had not been drinking but he could not resist teasing the man.
“Then perhaps you will be so kind as to finish your thought.”
“I am looking forward to the marriage of Lord Curry to Lady Fife.”
Leonard frowned.
“Fife’s daughter is getting married, is she? I had not realized. Good for her.”
Herbert’s face registered the naked surprise he clearly felt and he shook his head in disbelief.
“Surely you have been invited to the union, Your Grace! It promises to be a grand event. It will be three days of festivities. I daresay I am stunned you have not heard of it!”
Leonard pursed his lips as he tried to recall such an event on his roster but he could not. It was hardly surprising that no one had mentioned the invitation to him. If his mother and sister intended to go, they would not think to ask him. They would be certain he would refuse as he had so many other affairs in the past.
And they would be right to believe so. Days of festivities—how frivolous.
“It matters not. I would not care to attend such an event. Fife is half a day away and I have matters to attend here.”
“Your Grace! This will be the event of the decade! I daresay the Baron has spared no expense for his daughter to be wed. She is his only child.”
“I am aware. I have studied the peerages and titles more than I care to recall,” Leonard sighed. “I am certain it will be an affair to remember but I have no
t the least interest in attending. I doubt very much that my absence will be noted.”
Herbert clamped his mouth closed as he realized protesting the virtues of such an attendance was an exercise in futility.
“Now, if you please, Herbert, a moment ago, you seemed to feel this paperwork was a matter of great urgency.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
In minutes, Leonard had applied his looping signature to the pages before handing them to his lawyer.
“Is there anything else, Herbert?”
“No, Your Grace.” Leonard suspected the man had a great deal more on his mind but did not wish to pursue the issue. What would be the point? Leonard had no interest in such trivial matters. The Fife and Curry duchies were quite far removed from Pembroke and he did not oft do business that way. He was not bound to offend anyone with his absence and with a wedding which promised such a crowd, he would not even be missed.
The Curious Life of the Unfortunate Duchess: A Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 3
