“Are you all right, My Lady?” Lady Blackpole asked. “Are you unwell?”
“Heavens,” Lady Joneshire gasped. “Surely, you cannot be…” She glanced at Elizabeth’s midsection, eyes wide.
“I am fine.” Elizabeth straightened, met their eyes, and saw their disbelief. She couldn’t believe how inappropriate an insinuation they were making, but she couldn’t very well say anything considering she hadn’t been very polite herself. “I only grew a bit lightheaded for a moment. I think I shall go to the terrace for air. Please, enjoy the rest of the ball.”
She swiveled and walked away before they had the chance to make a comment. Elizabeth didn’t see the people she went by, didn’t see anything but the doors that led out into the gardens. Once the cold air hit her skin, she shivered but she didn’t stop walking until she came to a lonely gazebo.
She sank onto a bench and let out a shuddering breath.
He is alive. He is in London. He is well.
Elizabeth had kept close watch on the obituaries the past few years. She did not like entertaining the idea that he might have passed and consoled herself by reading that somber section of the paper, feeling relief every time she was finished.
She’d also considered the thought that he might have left London, but long trips away from her home were not something she could do very often. Not to mention the fact that the countryside was far too vast for her to have a single idea where to look first.
To think that all this time, he’d been in London. Quite a distance from her, yes, but close all the same.
She let out another breath, a small giggle. Then, she laughed again, lifting her teary eyes to the full moon above.
Are you looking at this moon as well, William? Do you miss me just as badly as I miss you? Don’t worry. Now, I will make sure that I find you.
Chapter 3
In this part of London, the streets were bare before night fell. Only the brave dared to be out at night, or perhaps the foolish, and William fell in only one of those two categories. Silence seemed to cling to his clothing as much as the cold did and he tucked his hands into the folds of his greatcoat, watching the streets.
Lingering nearby was his carriage bearing the crest of his household. William had no doubt it was a sight often found around here considering this community was home to one his father’s favorite whores. A part of him hoped that the familiar sight would steer robbers away from him, though the community was quite decent by the standards of regular citizens. Another part was longing for any reason to let out his frustration, especially if it meant punching someone in the jaw.
“Well, the apple certainly does not fall far from the tree.” William turned around, facing the sultry voice that had spoken. She approached him with her arms crossed, wearing very little despite the fact that it was a cold night. She ran her eyes down the length of him then back up to his face with intrigue. “You look just like your father, you know.”
“So I have been told.” William’s own voice sounded odd to his ears, since he hadn’t spoken much in the past few days. Not since he’d learned of his father’s death.
Benjamin Hervey, the late Duke of Brandon, had died of a heart attack in the arms of his whore—the very same woman standing before him. Three days ago, William had visited this community for the first time to retrieve his body but had not left his carriage except to confirm that it was, indeed, his father. He wasn’t happy to be back, nor did he particularly like standing before this woman, despite her unnatural beauty.
Her name was Carolina, a graceful name quite unfitting for who she was. William couldn’t tell her age. At times, she seemed to be an older woman, certainly past her fortieth year. But tonight, draped in a rather revealing gown with her black hair hanging over one shoulder, she appeared to be no older than thirty. A deceptive image that only added to his hatred of her.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, young Duke?” Carolina asked in a teasing voice, tilting her head to the side. “Don’t tell me you’re here to learn why your father was so enamored with me?”
William didn’t respond. He merely pulled out a pouch and held it out to her. “For your silence,” he stated.
Under the light of a nearby gas lamp, he saw that her eyes filled with intrigue. “You will have to be more specific, Your Grace. Is this for my silence regarding what we might do together tonight?”
He wouldn’t let her taunt him, though he could feel annoyance rising in him already. “Do not play dumb.”
Carolina’s heavily rouged lips tilted up into a smirk. “What do you mean? You come here in the middle of the night, so how can I not think that is what you had in mind? But considering you’re glaring at me right now, I suppose I must have been mistaken.” She reached out and took the pouch from his hand, studying it. “How much is this?”
“One hundred pounds.”
Carolina’s eyes snapped back to him. This time, they were filled with wariness. “My, Your Grace, you certainly are generous.”
William took one step forward. “If I find you lingering around where you should not be, I will not hesitate to dispose of you. If I hear so much as whisper regarding the circumstances surrounding my father’s death, you will hear from me. And you will not like it.” He stopped just inches away from her. She kept her face neutral, though her breathing grew heavier. William felt a tad satisfied watching her composure slip. “Do I make myself clear?”
“Even if you didn’t, this money certainly did.” She had the courage to smile at him. William had to admire her audacity. “Now, are you certain you do not want to come inside? Perhaps I could find some way to thank you for your kindness?”
Without a word, William turned and walked away. He didn’t care to linger any longer and if someone were to see him, it would make his efforts all for naught. But his fists were clenched, his irritation shooting towards the stars above him. A piece of him wanted some sort of trouble so he could sink his fist into something since he couldn’t take it out on the source of his anger watching him walk away.
“The tavern,” William ordered his coachman instantly before climbing into the carriage. His coachman, Wesley, always did as he was told. He didn’t mind coming to decent neighborhoods like this one, or to shady ones like the one William was heading to next. The best coachman William could possibly ask for.
He let out a long breath as the carriage began to move off, staring at Carolina through the window. So many times, he’d found his father in an inebriated state singing off-key about the woman named Carolina. So many times, William had wondered if his father had dared to share that woman’s bed before the late Duchess had passed away. On too many occasions did William get the urge to take his frustrations out on the Duke, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but watch the Duke destroy himself.
But he was dead. William was now the Duke of Brandon. And he had to put together all that his father had destroyed while he’d held the position.
Despite it being rather out of character for him, William peered out the window at the full moon above him. For the first time in a very long while, he wondered about the people who had left him and the people he had left behind.
“A terrible, terrible idea.” Patience crossed her arms. “I do not approve.”
Elizabeth urgently picked up her brush and began running it through her hair. She knew Patience wouldn’t let her do that herself for long, and just as expected, her lady’s maid let out a frustrated breath and came over to take the brush. She laid a hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder, lowering her onto the seat.
“Perhaps it is,” Elizabeth agreed with a nod. “But I have to do it.”
“You do not have to do anything,” Patience insisted. “You will only get yourself hurt.”
Instantly, Elizabeth thought of the puckered scars hidden under her clothes. She pushed the terrified thoughts away, focusing on her determination. “Perhaps I will. But I have to do it.”
“You are repeating yourself, I hope you know.” Patience soun
ded exasperated and Elizabeth couldn’t blame her. It was the dead of night, dawn just a few hours away, and here they were up and about—Elizabeth preparing to run away from home and Patience trying to convince her not to.
Twisting around, Elizabeth looked up at Patience. Despite knowing how scary and dangerous her path ahead might be if she did this, she was thrumming with excitement. Ever since she left the ball, ever since she returned home, that excitement had been mounting within her. She’d feigned illness to get her father to take her home long before the ball would actually come to an end.
“Patience, you do not understand,” she pressed. “I’ve finally gotten a clue as to his whereabouts. I cannot very well sit back and hope that things will work themselves out like I have been doing all this time. I have to go out there.”
“What if something terrible happens to you, Elizabeth?” Patience’s worry stood stark on her face now, her voice stern. She crossed her arms, as she waited for an answer.
Elizabeth could only think of one thing. Slowly, she raised her wrist, revealing the puckered scar. Gently, she ran a finger along the raised skin, each touch bringing back the terrible memories of that fateful day. She knew it should deter her, that it should make her want to stay here where she was safe. But, for the first time ever, the scar felt like a reminder of her resolve, that her search for William all this time would not be in vain.
“I finally have a chance,” she murmured. “I’ve finally found something that might help me find him. I cannot, will not, lose this opportunity.” Elizabeth lifted her gaze to Patience, who was staring at her in slight disbelief. “Do you understand that, Patience? I can’t. I have to do whatever I can. And if I do not find him, then I shall return home and resign myself to marrying the Earl.”
Patience stared at her for a few moments longer, as if gauging just how serious she was. After a moment, she released a heavy sigh, conceding.
“So, what do you plan to do?” Patience asked. “Will you travel around the entirety of London on your own? You can do that while remaining here!”
“And be subject to a marriage I do not want? What will happen when I do find him then? I do not want to be shackled to a man I do not love while the man I do love is well within reach.”
Patience sighed and Elizabeth faced the mirror again. After a moment, she felt Patience’s fingers in her hair once more, twisting it into a low chignon. “I still believe you are being far too rash,” Patience said.
“Yes, perhaps,” Elizabeth agreed and giggled when Patience groaned behind her. “Should I not have woken you? I had thought about simply running away on my own, but it did not feel right leaving without at least saying goodbye to you first.”
“Well, at least you are considering me.”
Her hair finished, Elizabeth rose and faced her. She tried to give Patience an encouraging smile. “I will be fine, I promise. If I take enough money with me, I will be able to stay at an inn for a while until I find him.”
“And when you do? Will the two of you return singing your love for each other?”
“It sounds like a lovely idea now, doesn’t it?” Elizabeth grinned enthusiastically.
Patience sighed again, shaking her head. She walked away to fetch the cloak she’d brought out for Elizabeth. It was very much like her to protest Elizabeth’s actions while supporting her without hesitation. “Have you thought about the fact that perhaps he does not want to be found by you?”
The words cut straight through her growing excitement. Elizabeth clutched her wrist tightly, nodding. “I have. But until I hear those words straight from his mouth, I cannot let that hinder me.”
Another sigh from Patience. It was clear Elizabeth was wearing her down. “And what of Lord Gillet?” she asked. “He will surely be distraught to learn that you have run away.”
“I know.” That was yet another aspect of this plan that bothered her. “But I have to do what I must. I am afraid he will stop me if I say anything to him and if I dare to leave a note, he will find me before I have the chance to get too far.”
Patience blinked at her. “Goodness, you have really given a lot of thought into this, haven’t you?”
“Yes, well the ball has only ended a short while ago.” Elizabeth responded, a smile playing around her lips. “It has not been that long.”
Once again, her lady’s maid sighed, this one filled with resignation. “I cannot hope to convince you to do otherwise so I have no choice but to support you and pray for your safe return.” Without warning, Patience took Elizabeth’s hand. “I know you will find him. If there is one thing you are good at, Elizabeth, it is never giving up. Now, it will all pay off.”
Tears gathered in Elizabeth’s eyes as she threw her arms around her friend. “I will miss you. I’ll try to return as soon as I can.”
Patience chuckled as she held her back. “Please, do not cry this easily when you are on your own. You may be seen as someone people can easily pick on.”
Elizabeth pulled away nodding, wiping her tears. She held hands with Patience for a while longer, with the girl who had been a place of comfort for so long. Parting ways with her only brought more tears to Elizabeth’s eyes but she dragged herself away nonetheless, reaching for the reticule she’d prepared that had been sitting on her bed. Over the years, her father would give her pocket money and she would not spend a dime of it, not caring to. Now, it should come in handy. She put it in the carpet bag of plain grey gowns she’d borrowed from Patience, similar to the one she currently wore, alongside a few undergarments.
Patience walked with her as they left the bedchamber and made their way in the opposite direction of the foyer. Reaching the back staircase, Patience led the way, taking Elizabeth through the kitchen and out the back into the garden, the gentle smell of herbs wafting through the summer breeze. There was a road behind the estate, lined with weeds and grass, one where Elizabeth knew she might be able to come upon a hackney carriage. As for her destination after that, she hadn’t a clue.
Walking away from her home was more difficult than she’d expected. She knew she had to in order to get somewhere to find a hackney carriage, though she was wholly determined to find William, and she could only think of one place to go. From there, she would make her next move.
A part of her wished she didn’t have to leave. She wished it had all been easy, that William had not left her so suddenly and had become the man she’d hoped he would be.
She remembered the last time they’d planned to see each other with such clarity—before his mother had passed and everything had gone wrong. It had been a few days before the start of the Season, when she had been twenty years. She’d meant to debut, a year later than she should have in light of her mother’s death a few months prior. Despite the lingering sadness for death, Elizabeth had been eager to come out to society—even more so knowing that she would been courted by William openly.
Once she could muster up the courage to reveal her feelings, of course. She’d planned it all out. She would meet with him at the park, while her father believed she was going shopping for gowns. She would tell him that she’d been in love with him for years, and that she hoped he shared the same feelings. She would suggest that they court, comfortable enough with him to do such a thing despite it being very out of ordinary, and then they would be married by the end of the Season. And for the entire morning leading up to that meeting, Elizabeth had tried to build her courage, to make sure she said the words the way it should be.
One day we will be married, Beth.
He had said those words to her so often over the years that Elizabeth hadn’t considered it would not happen. And she’d never gathered the courage to tell him how she felt about him.
Is it regret? Is that why I cannot let him go?
She’d asked herself that question so many times and was still no closer to the answer. She could only wish that day had gone the way she’d hoped.
Nothing had worked out the way she’d planned it and seven years had passe
d so quickly and Elizabeth had been left with questions and unfulfilled dreams ever since.
Without realizing it, she’d gone quite a distance from Gillet House, now moving along under the light of the moon above. As luck would have it, a hackney carriage happened to be coming down the street. Elizabeth quickly flagged it down and it rattled to a stop beside her.
She could not see much of the driver’s face, but she could tell he was scrutinizing her. “What is a lady doing out here on her own?” he asked.
“I wished to head somewhere,” she explained, smiling to ease his mind. “But I do not think I can make it on my own. Could you assist me?”
He said nothing for a moment, then jerked his head towards the carriage. “Get in. And be lucky I’m the one who came upon you. Any other man and they might think you’re another type of woman.”
What Desire Demands, My Duke: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 4