He blinked guilelessly at Lord Gordon, knowing the man saw through his nearly shameless tactics.
“Forgive me for mentioning this, Duke, but I did hear that you were betrothed. Surely you are not intent on pursuing my daughter while engaged to another. Elizabeth is a kind girl, devoted, and generous in heart and spirit. Should you betray that sweetness I cannot say that she would ever recover from such a thing.”
“I assure you, Lord Gordon, I would never dishonor your daughter in any way. You may not know me, sir, but I am a man who will fight to achieve whatever it is I desire. You might find I have that in common with my father, also.”
He left the rest of the words unspoken. It was evident that Leonard desired Elizabeth Follett. He need not paint Lord Gordon a picture.
“Indeed, you are your father’s son,” Lord Gordon chuckled and pressed the cup to his lips again. “I bid you Godspeed in your quest for Elizabeth’s affections but do not say I did not forewarn you.”
“I appreciate the blessing and the warning, my Lord.”
Leonard did not add that he did not require either.
I am my father’s son, after all and I will do precisely as my father taught me—to pursue whatever it is I long for in this life, whatever the cost.
The wedding was a sight to behold which was unsurprising considering the extravagant galas which preceded the ceremony. Even Catherine, in her eternal cynicism, cried although she denied it when her brother teased her about the tears in her eyes.
Leonard found himself pressed between his sister and his betrothed among the hundreds of guests, barely able to hear the vows being spoken but he was not paying the least bit of mind to the union in progress. Perhaps fate had intervened or it had been deviously planned by her father but Elizabeth and her family stood just ahead of him where he could feast his eyes readily on her comely form, if only from the back. If he leaned forward, Leonard was certain he would catch a whiff of her honeysuckle scent but he dared not. He knew he had matters to attend before performing any such act.
“Oh,” Priscilla sobbed. “It is just so beautiful! I cannot wait until our wedding, Your Grace!”
Matters like Miss Priscilla, of course.
It was no small feat to end an engagement and Leonard did not anticipate that it would go well. Priscilla was simply not ladylike enough to handle a broken betrothal with grace yet it was of small consequence to Leonard. No matter how hysterical Priscilla might become, the engagement must be called off. It was the only way to show both Percival and Elizabeth that his commitment was unwavering.
Priscilla sniffed dramatically and reached to squeeze his arm in a gesture of affection but Leonard yanked himself away like her touch was made of fire. The idea that Elizabeth might catch a glimpse of such contact between him and Priscilla troubled him more deeply than he ever could have imagined.
“I do hope our celebration of love will be as large,” Priscilla continued and dabbed the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief “Although I daresay we will not have as many guests, will we, Your Grace?”
Catherine guffawed rudely, saving Leonard from having to answer Priscilla’s ridiculous question. What would Leonard know about the number of invitations sent? He could barely recall the date set for their union.
“Celebration of love?” Catherine echoed, hearing the naïve words. She turned her head to smirk at Priscilla.
“Who are you marrying for love? Certainly not my brother! Or, shall I say, he is not marrying you for love.”
Priscilla gaped at her.
“Mind your tongue!” she huffed, her face visibly upset by Catherine’s cruel words. Priscilla cast Leonard a helpless but furious look and he entertained the idea that perhaps his fiancée genuinely did not realize how he felt about her.
It seems improbable that she could not see how little I care for her as I have made no effort to hide my disdain but Priscilla is such a simple-minded woman.
Regardless, Leonard knew he had to end the mounting animus between the women. Whatever would become of him and Priscilla, his sister needed to know her place.
“Catherine,” Leonard growled. “It is not the time.”
“When is the time?” Catherine chirped caustically. “It never seems to be the time when discussing her.”
A group of ladies shushed Catherine, a reproving look in their eyes but his sister ignored them. Leonard could see she was determined to carry on with her diatribe against her future in-law.
“Why is she so hateful toward me?” Priscilla moaned. “I had hoped we could be sisters but she makes it impossible!”
Oh dear Lord in Heaven, this is not the way I wished to do this, Leonard thought and gritted his teeth together. After his conversation that morning with Lord Gordon, Leonard knew that he was ending his engagement with Priscilla. It was his hope to pursue Elizabeth without deceiving Priscilla. The lady was an irritant, undoubtedly, but she did not deserve to be mistreated. Leonard had planned to follow through with his desire when they arrived in Pembroke following the wedding but both Catherine and his betrothed were driving him to the brink of madness with their theatrics.
“Shall we observe the ceremony?” Leonard hissed. “We shall not wish to miss it.”
Of course, he had no real interest in the activities transpiring beyond his view but he hoped to distract them long enough for a semblance of peace. Both ladies snorted in response but quieted to turn their heads toward the front, possibly realizing in unison that they were causing a stir. Leonard was unsure if Elizabeth had heard the commotion but she cast a look over her shoulder, dark hair falling over the smooth skin of her neck to stare at him with curious golden eyes. His heart skipped and once more he was taken by how lovely was the Viscount’s daughter.
Will I forever find myself short of breath when I look upon her face? Leonard wondered. He had the sense that if he were to stare into Elizabeth’s face for one hundred years, she would never become less beautiful to him.
“Good morning,” he mouthed, expecting a smile in response but she only gave him a wary look before pivoting her gaze back toward the ceremony. Leonard felt a tightness in his chest and he wondered if capturing Elizabeth’s heart was bound to be as difficult at Lord Gordon had suggested.
He does know his child better than I do…at least for the time being.
Leonard intended to change that forthwith. He had never met a challenge he did not like—or wholeheartedly accept.
“Why do you stare at that hussy?” Priscilla growled, apparently aware of the gaze shared between him and Elizabeth. “She is a woman of loose virtue.”
A rush of anger flooded Leonard’s body and he glared at Priscilla.
“That is a flagrant lie!” he snapped, loudly enough for all to hear, Elizabeth and her family included but he did not lower his voice. “You will mind yourself, Miss Priscilla and watch your tongue!”
Through his peripheral vision, the Duke saw Elizabeth’s face flush scarlet and her mouth formed a line of upset. It fuelled his ire more to know she had heard Priscilla’s vile words.
“Why? I only speak the truth!” Priscilla protested in her childish way. “Everyone knows about her! I heard she permitted herself to be deflowered by a stable hand! Can you imagine?”
Fury bubbled through Leonard’s blood but before he could reprimand Priscilla, Elizabeth excused herself and hurried from the overflowing chapel as Leonard watched in dismay. He whirled his head and glared openly at his fiancée.
“You are meant to be a lady,” he hissed. “How can you be so uncouth at a wedding, among nobility? You should feel nothing but shame in your blood.”
Priscilla’s face crumbled and she pouted in way which infuriated Leonard further.
“I only mean to save you shame, Your Grace,” she replied haughtily. “If you muck about in the gutters…”
Leonard could hardly believe the cant spilling from Priscilla’s mouth. He knew she spoke with the venom of a jealous woman but he could not extinguish the flame of fury she had i
gnited when speaking of Elizabeth in such a way.
“You are despicable,” Leonard hissed. “I barely have words to say to you in this moment.”
“I warned you about this one,” Catherine offered in a singsong tone, agitating the Duke further. Leonard realized he would have to put his sister in her proper place another time. At that moment, his concern was Elizabeth.
“The only shame I feel,” Leonard continued, his eyes narrowed into slits as he stared at Priscilla. “Is from being engaged to you.”
He had not meant for the barrage of words to escape his mouth so freely but in his upset, Leonard had been unable to contain himself. Even Catherine was shocked by his outburst but it was too late to recoil the statement. It had been fresh on his mind and Priscilla had inspired the gruff response with her own pettiness.
“Your Grace!” Priscilla cried, choking on the words as she spoke. “I daresay that witch has cast a spell on you!”
“Miss Elizabeth is no witch,” he retorted. “You are a wicked busybody, however, and I have no desire to tie my house to yours.”
Leonard knew there would be repercussions to ending matters in such a way but he could not bring himself to care. There would be time enough to deal with the aftermath another day. He did not permit Priscilla an opportunity to sputter a response and instead pushed his way from the crowd in the direction where Elizabeth had scurried. Catherine chuckled gleefully and squeezed his arm as he passed but Leonard took no pride in what had happened. It had not been his intention to end things in such a way with Priscilla, no matter how desperately she asked for such harshness. Under normal circumstances, Leonard would have displayed more self-control, more restraint but the thought of Elizabeth upset and disgraced surpassed any common-sense Leonard could muster.
The Duke made his way to the courtyard and looked about for the direction that Elizabeth may have taken but there was no sign of her anywhere. He wondered if she had heard any of what was said but he did not have high hopes. She had run off so quickly. There hardly appeared to be another reason for her to have done so.
“I did warn you, Duke,” Lord Gordon sighed as he appeared at his side. Leonard had not realized that the Viscount had followed him from the church.
“She is not an easy one to tame but she does possess a fair amount of sensitivity. She is a lady after all.” The Viscount chuckled at his own joke but Leonard was not amused in the least. The Duke shook his secured mass of hair quickly and regarded the Viscount thoughtfully.
“I do not wish to tame her, Lord Gordon,” he replied, truthfully. Percival snickered loudly.
“And I find sensitivity to be an attribute in both men and women. Perhaps less in men,” Leonard continued.
“Then perhaps you might have a chance with Elizabeth after all,” Percival replied. The words filled Leonard with a new confidence and he smiled at the reassurance until the Viscount spoke again, his pitch almost mocking.
“Now you are tasked with finding Elizabeth and convincing her that you are worthwhile—even though you are the kind of man who ends his engagement in the middle of a wedding ceremony.”
Chapter 8
“Everyone stares at us!” Frances giggled, pointing rudely at the townsfolk. “Are we the subject of gossip, Liza?”
The question was not meant to be hurtful but it troubled Elizabeth all the same and she hurried her sister along, ignoring the blatant looks. She knew precisely what they said for she had caught wind of it every day for a fortnight. They did not bother to whisper in her presence but even if they had, it would not be difficult to have heard what the talk of the town was about—the Duke of Pembroke and his broken engagement.
As if I am to be faulted for the actions of the Duke of Pembroke, she thought miserably.
For her part, Elizabeth had not learned the sordid details of how the Duke had abruptly and mercilessly left Miss Priscilla in Fife after declaring he was unable to wed her. Some claimed that he was in love with another while others maintained the union was no longer fruitful for the duchy for reasons unknown. Whatever the cause of the split, everyone agreed that his manner was most uncouth and ungentlemanly.
Of course, Priscilla had escalated matters by fuelling the gossip, insisting that the Duke had been stolen from her by an unscrupulous witch. Elizabeth had no doubt whom Priscilla meant and apparently neither did the townsfolk.
It mattered not how Elizabeth defended herself against he busybodies who gaped and whispered. It was reminiscent of what had happened all those years earlier. She was subjected to rumors which she had no control over.
“Pay them no mind,” Elizabeth insisted. “They simply have little else to do than involve themselves with the affairs of the nobles.”
“What do they blather about?” Frances insisted. “Do they speak of me and my new love?”
Elizabeth stopped in her path and stared at her sister, her previous woes all but forgotten in the wake of Frances’ question.
“Your new love?” she repeated, her pulse quickening with dread. “Who might that be?”
A dozen awful thoughts flooded Elizabeth as she wondered who might have had occasion to take advantage of her innocent sister.
“Why, Mr. Barlough, of course,” Frances chirped. Elizabeth’s brow furrowed with concern. She had feared that Frances might develop an unhealthy fancy for Herbert Barlough following the wedding but Frances had not mentioned him since—not until that moment.
“The barrister from Pembroke? You have not seen nor spoken to him since the union of Lord and Lady Curry. How can you say he is your love?”
A wide beam fell on Frances’ guileless face and she shook her head in denial, strands of hair falling from her unkempt braid. It did not seem to matter how many times the abigails struggled to keep her hair in array, Frances unfailingly found a way to muss her long tresses.
“On the contrary,” the older sister replied gleefully. “I see him in my dreams.”
Elizabeth exhaled with relief and reclaimed Frances’ arm. She was happy to learn that it was merely a fleeting fancy, one which would undoubtedly be forgotten when enough time had passed.
“Do you?” she replied. “How lovely, Franny.”
In the interim, Elizabeth would not shatter her sister’s good cheer. She moved them further down the street but Frances was not finished with her tale. The older girl moved in to whisper conspiratorially in Elizabeth’s ear.
“And he writes me often.”
Again, Elizabeth was forced to stop in her tracks and stare at Frances in shock.
“He writes you often?” she demanded but as the words left her lips, she realized that there was little way such a matter could occur, not when the mails were so slow.
Even though Pembroke is not terribly far away, she could possibly have received one letter, no more. She is imagining this love affair.
Elizabeth had gauged the distance between the duchies herself in the aftermath of the wedding in Fife. She hoped that no one ever found out that she had. It shamed her to know she still thought of the Duke with more frequency than she would have liked.
“I have three letters thus far. He tells me we will see one another soon,” Frances continued and Elizabeth felt a pang of concern. Her sister must have been delusional, of course, but Elizabeth dared not put a damper on Frances’ excitement.
“How lovely,” Elizabeth commented again, unsure of how else to reply. “I am happy to hear of it.”
Elizabeth realized she would need to keep a closer eye upon her sister and search for more signs of fantastical thinking. It had always been her great fear that one day Frances would need be locked away for her own safety and protection but Elizabeth vowed she would do everything to ensure it did not happen. She had heard terrible tales of what happened in such places, especially to young, attractive women. It was her greatest fear that men would take liberties with her on the outside where she was relatively secure. Elizabeth did not wish to imagine what could happen in a place like Bedlam where derangement and melan
choly ran rampant.
“The Duke asks of you,” Frances whispered with a giggle in her voice. “He sends his regards.”
Elizabeth was quite certain she had faced enough surprises for one morning.
“Which duke?” she asked dumbly, even though she knew precisely to whom Frances referred.
“The Duke of Pembroke, silly! We will travel there soon and he can ask you himself how you are instead of asking Herbert to ask me. I think he is acting quite childish using me to learn about you, do you not agree?”
“Franny, that is simply untrue,” Elizabeth sighed and pulling her sister toward the waiting coach. “You must not permit yourself to be caught up in a realm of fantasy. If Father catches wind of you saying such things…”
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