“Yes,” she agreed, accepting his outstretched hand. “Thank you.”
They fell into a waltz, their steps mismatched and Elizabeth became quickly aware that Lord Cooke was a terrible dancer. She bit back a grimace as he fell heavily on her foot but instead of apologizing for his misstep, he leaned in close to her, causing shivers of apprehension to slither down her spine.
“I cannot tell you how long I have yearned to see you in the flesh,” he murmured. “I do hope my peers are watching now.”
He craned his neck to peer over her shoulder and Elizabeth was struck at how small a man he was in her shadow. She was hardly considered a large woman yet she towered over Lord Cooke. Elizabeth was embarrassed for him and herself but the young man was undaunted by the uncomfortable situation. To her chagrin, he pulled her closer to him, his grip tightening. He stepped on her toes again and Elizabeth bit back a cry.
“I have been told I am a wonderful dancer,” he muttered in her ear. His breath was hot and too close for her desire. Tactfully, she pulled her head back and offered him a tight smile.
“Indeed, my Lord,” she replied. “It is my pleasure to share this dance with you.”
“Is that all you can share with me?” he purred. Elizabeth was instantly tense, the timbre of his voice unmistakable now.
“I do not think I understand what you are asking, Lord Cooke.” She jerked herself back, the smile frozen on her face as she regarded him with cold eyes. She knew precisely what he suggested but she dared him silently to speak such crass request aloud. He was taken aback by her forwardness. Apparently whatever tales he had been told about her had not included her backbone and fire. She captured his gaze unwaveringly and willed him to give her an excuse to untangle herself from his arms.
“Forgive me, Miss Elizabeth,” he muttered and released her. There was no smugness to him, his cocksureness vanishing beneath her withering stare. Relief swept through her instantly but she maintained her smooth appearance.
“Whatever for?” she replied sweetly. “Thank you for the dance.”
He bowed quickly as she curtsied and Elizabeth was left in peace. Despite her calm exterior, however, she was shaking inside. It was not the first time she had been met with such lewd context and she feared it would not be the last.
For years, Elizabeth had been the subject of vile gossip. For her part, Elizabeth certainly had no known enemies which she could count. Yet as she blossomed into the fine and pious young lady she was, whispers had begun to reach her ears, terrible words which stunned her at first. Someone had spread the word that Elizabeth had dishonored herself with a stable boy when she was barely older than David. There was no truth to the rumor nor had there been a stable hand young enough to fit the role at the manor during the time in question but the damage to her unsullied reputation had been done. It was two years before Elizabeth learned the truth, that her best friend had started the bile in a fit of jealousy. When Elizabeth told her father about it, Lord Gordon had been fit to be tied.
“It is a curse!” her father had shouted and flailed his arms with distress. “My daughters are far too special for this world! I am doomed to endure persecution.”
Yet when he had settled some, he took Elizabeth aside and explained to her something which she had never forgotten.
“When you have a special talent, sweet daughter, it will make others loathe you. You must find strength from within and ignore those who are determined to hold you down. Trust no one and you will never be disappointed.”
“I-- but Father! I trust you!” Elizabeth protested in shock. Surely her father did not mean everyone was the enemy. Lord Gordon waved his hand and scowled.
“Family is quite a different matter,” he replied quickly. “You must love your blood, regardless of what they do.”
Elizabeth found those words echoing in her mind while she watched an unknown man near her sister, who continued to dance across the courtyard.
Has every man at this event taken leave of his senses? She wondered angrily and strode to intercept the stranger. Those who were not aware of Frances’ affliction were oft to approach the comely lady and cause Frances upset. The oldest Follett sibling had no comprehension of certain social matters which was why she needed to be watched constantly. Bernadette had lost herself in the crowd but Elizabeth could not wait for the abigail to make herself known. If Frances was approached by a stranger, she might react badly and it was not a matter which Elizabeth wanted to oversee again. Yet as she stalked purposefully toward the odd-looking man with the balding head and mutton chops, he slowed to a stop and watched Frances floating about, a soft, mesmerized smile on his lips. Her sister was oblivious to his stare but Elizabeth also paused, a strange sensation of calm watching over her as she observed the ugly man.
He was well-dressed enough in a dashing black suit and handsome white cravat but it did not deter from his unfashionable glasses or half-full head of hair. Elizabeth did not presume him to be noble but likely a well-paid servant of sorts. Abruptly, the stranger turned his head and stared directly at Elizabeth, possibly feeling her eyes upon him. His lips parted into an “O” of surprise and he lowered his eyes in shame. It was clear he had not wished to be caught studying Frances, even from a distance.
“Forgive me for gawking,” he mumbled, his tone so low, she could barely hear him. “I was marvelling at her free spirit.”
“My sister is indeed free-spirited,” Elizabeth agreed, unsure if she should be angered or touched by his attention toward her sister. She wondered how smitten the man would be to learn of Frances’ handicap but Elizabeth did not tell him. It was not his business, after all. Frances’ afflictions were a family matter.
“Who might you be?” Elizabeth challenged boldly. She knew it was improper to demand his name but she did not mind herself, not where her sister was involved. To her mild amusement, he flushed a deep crimson and Elizabeth wondered if she had ever seen a grown man blush with embarrassment. Suddenly, Elizabeth could see that he bore no threat whatsoever.
“Herbert Barlough, barrister for Leonard, the Duke of Pembroke.”
Inexplicably, she felt a shiver slide down her backbone. She could not say why but hearing the name of the Duke was musical in her ears. Elizabeth had never met the man but as she recalled from her studies, he was the 5th Duke of Pembroke, the 4th recently having passed.
“Miss Elizabeth Follett, daughter to Viscount of Gordon,” she introduced in return. “Charmed.”
He bowed and again lowered his gaze. While he did not speak again, Elizabeth noticed his eyes moving again toward Frances.
He is truly entranced by her! Elizabeth realized. The understanding made her smile warmly yet feel melancholic in the same way. Her sister might never find a husband to love her but she would not stand in the way of the admiring manner Herbert Barlough stared at her. If only for one night, Frances could know the feeling of being admired in a place where fewer people knew of her disability.
“She is an angel,” Herbert murmured and Elizabeth looked at him in surprise. She suspected he had not meant to speak aloud. Abruptly, she turned her head back, her eyes narrowing slowly. The pang of sadness in her heart was not just for Frances, Elizabeth suddenly understood, but for the yearning to have someone look at her with the same adoration Herbert bestowed upon her sister.
I do wonder if there is such a concept as love at first sight? If I were to wager, I would say Mr. Barlough suffers from such a curse.
Chapter 5
The Following Evening…
“I daresay that your wedding will seem pitiful in comparison,” Catherine teased her brother, a goblet of wine in her hand. “And not simply because of your bride. Lady Fife is quite fetching, is she not? I cannot imagine what she will wear at her nuptials tomorrow but I imagine it will be a sight to behold!”
Leonard could see his sister was well into her cups, her words babbling and silly as she spoke but he made no comment on the matter. Perhaps he was content to see Catherine without woe in her
eyes, if only for a short time. However, his mind was elsewhere and he did not require a reminder of his own impending marriage in that instance.
“Indeed,” Leonard mumbled, searching through the crowd. He did not know why he was certain that the woman he had seen in the town was present except to say he felt her nearby somehow, as though she had permeated his bones with the mere sound of her voice.
How foolish, he chided himself but even the sound thought did not alleviate the strange longing he felt since seeing the dark-haired lady and her companion. He had not slept the previous night, some unseen shadows lurking in his mind. Reasonably, the Duke considered he was growing nervous about the possibility of marrying such a flavorless wife and looking for an excuse, or a sign, to end the engagement. Yet even with the reason resonating in his mind, Leonard could not stop himself from imagining what the lady’s face looked like. He found himself lapsing into a fanciful game of make-believe.
In his mind’s eye, he envisioned her with large eyes and creamy skin, a mouth of full, pink nectar. In some instances, her eyes were as green as his and in others she bore wide, chocolate irises. It did not matter how he pictured her, she was always as desirable as the sound of her voice. How he wished he had learned her name.
They had arrived in Fife at midday and Leonard should have faced exhaustion but he could not entertain the idea of sleep, despite the long travel. Catherine and the Duchess made comments about his apparent eagerness.
“I have never seen you quite so content to be anywhere,” his mother said. Her wise eyes studied him with interest.
“May I ask why you have decided to join us?” the Duchess inquired. “I confess, this is highly uncharacteristic of you.”
Leonard feigned a look of surprise.
“Why, Mother, are you complaining that I wish to accompany my family on a journey? Just the other day you admonished me for leaving you and Catherine for prolonged periods.”
“I do believe you are evading my question,” the Duchess replied firmly but Leonard only cast her a smile. “Will Miss Priscilla be attending?”
The query filled Leonard with an unanticipated dread and the beam fell from his lips at once. He had not thought to ask but the answer appeared quite obvious. If there was a social event of any magnitude, Priscilla was bound to be in attendance.
“I imagine she will be,” Catherine replied in on his behalf. “Birds of a vapid feather.”
“I do wish you would be kinder to your sister-in-law,” Mary snapped. “This surly speaking will not stand when she marries your brother, you must know that!”
“She is not my sister-in-law,” Catherine reminded her mother. “Not yet and if there is a God in Heaven, she will be fall from a bridge—”
“Catherine!” both Leonard and Mary cried in unison.
“You cannot tell me you have not envisioned it, Leo,” Catherine purred wickedly. Leonard forced his lips not to twitch although he had shared similar thoughts.
Not that Miss Priscilla would meet an untimely demise necessarily but that perhaps she was kidnapped by gypsies or committed to Bedlam.
Of course, he did not offer his approval of his sister’s dark thoughts. Priscilla was still to be his wife, regardless of how insipid she might be.
“She is my betrothed and you will show her the respect she deserves,” he insisted but as always, there was little conviction in his words.
“There is Herbert,” Catherine announced suddenly and Leonard shifted his eyes toward where his sister nodded. Indeed, the barrister stood in his usual spot on the fringes of society. He was quite content watching the world flitter by as he sipped a glass of port but there was an unmistakable happiness on his typically stoic face.
“I will say hello,” Leonard decided, claiming the opportunity to escape his sister’s cutting commentary. He adored Catherine but her negativity oft upset him.
She is much too young to be so skeptical, he thought ruefully. Father’s passing affected her a great deal more than she admits.
Leonard hoped that Catherine would show more leniency toward Priscilla in the future but his faith was doubtful. Catherine did despise the busybodies and gossips in town. Priscilla embodied all the qualities she abhorred.
Leonard approached the barrister, noting as usual that Herbert appeared quite content watching the world flitter by whilst sipping on a glass of port. Yet there was an unmistakable happiness on his typically stoic face.
“Your Grace!” Herbert gasped in surprise when Leonard approached. “I did not expect to see you here!”
“I had a change of heart on the matter, Herbert. I daresay there are many more in attendance than I expected. Would you like to wager that half these nobles could not identify Baron Fife if we pointed them in the proper direction?”
Herbert snorted and quickly put the glass to his lips, apparently taken aback by his own expression of amusement.
“Some will go great distances for a party,” Herbert agreed, smiling. His shoulders sagged slightly, perhaps because he was in familiar company. It occurred to Leonard that he might be the barrister’s only true friend.
“When did you arrive?” Leonard asked but as he spoke, he noticed Herbert’s eyes stealing over his shoulder. It was very distracting and Leonard turned to look.
“I arrived last evening quite late, Your Grace.”
“You certainly were eager to attend,” Leonard teased. “What in God’s name has your attention?”
Herbert clamped his mouth shut but his eyes darted back to where they had been and again, Leonard turned to look. It was then that he saw her. She was a comely lady of perhaps five-and-twenty standing with a boy of no more than sixteen. Their costly clothes suggested good breeding yet Leonard could not place them despite the fact that the woman was vaguely familiar in an obtuse way.
“Forgive me, Your Grace,” Herbert muttered. “I look at nothing.”
“Do you know her?” Leonard asked, his voice laced in wonder. “She seems oddly familiar to me.”
“I, I made her acquaintance last evening,” Herbert blurted out. “Miss Frances Follett, eldest daughter to the Viscount of Gordon.”
Leonard paused, considering the distance to Gordon from Pembroke. His sense of geography told him that it was not very close to his home.
“She is a fine article,” Leonard commented, his eyes on her face.
Where have I seen her? I have not been to Gordon in quite some time. Could I have met her before?
“She is an angel,” Herbert muttered and Leonard thought he had misheard.
“Pardon me?”
“Nothing, Your Grace. I said nothing of consequence. Forgive me, I, I see Lady Charlotte signalling for my attention.”
Herbert bolted away so quickly, Leonard considered he might be on fire but he did not follow the lawyer with his eyes.
Perhaps I will introduce myself, Leonard thought, unable to alleviate the twisting sensation that Miss Follett was important somehow to him. He started toward the young woman and her companion but he did not get very far before freezing in his tracks.
“Franny, I found you the cheese you adore,” a breathless girl announced appearing at Miss Follett’s side. “There is more if you desire.”
Miss Follett’s hazel eyes grew bright and she snatched the plate from the younger woman’s hands.
“Mind your manners, Frances!” the boy chided. Miss Follett looked up, contrition in her eyes.
“Thank you, Liza,” she cooed but just as quickly turned back to her food and began to devour the morsels of cheese. Yet Leonard was transfixed, not by Miss Follett but by Liza who smiled patiently. He had no doubt that she was the same woman whom he had seen in town the previous day.
And Miss Follett was her companion, Leonard realized. What he had not noticed, however, was that his feet had moved him closer to the trio who had yet to heed his arrival. He could not tear his eyes from Liza’s face, the glowing gold of her beautiful eyes warming his body like hot coals on the hearth.
Her eyes were not green nor blue nor brown. They are unlike any color I have ever seen and a hundredfold lovelier than I could have imagined in my most vivid dreams.
Leonard felt time slow somewhat as he lost himself in the delicate lines of her cheeks and he saw how closely she resembled the lady he had concocted in his mind. Perhaps they had known one another in another time or place.
“Is something troubling you, my Lord?”
The question was sharp and surprising as it did not emanate from Liza’s mouth. It was roused by her younger male companion who became aware of Leonard standing so closely before them. Moreover, it was inappropriate for him to be so bold without being formally introduced by another but Leonard was inexplicably smitten with the boy’s brazenness and he could not help but engage in conversation with the lad.
The Curious Life of the Unfortunate Duchess: A Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 5