The Curious Life of the Unfortunate Duchess: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Emma Linfield

  Mary chuckled and shook her regal head.

  “No, my dear. I have many matters to attend here.” Leonard knew his mother meant to remain close to his father’s memory as she always had. Leaving Brookside tormented her, as though she were betraying her husband, in some strange manner which Leonard did not comprehend.

  “We will find you a lovely brooch, Mother,” Catherine told her, knowing why she refused.

  “I look forward to your selection,” Mary replied, smiling. Leonard noticed the look of quiet thoughtfulness his mother administered upon Elizabeth and he did not need to consider it long to realize that she approved of the Viscount’s daughter. He had certainly never seen Mary look at Priscilla in such a way. Leonard had never been more certain of a decision in all his life; Elizabeth was the woman with whom he was destined to be.

  “You are gawking.” Catherine’s words were spoken in a whisper meant only for him but he blushed nonetheless at being caught staring at Elizabeth so openly. He was unable to keep his eyes from raking over her face, memorizing every line of her porcelain complexion, the gleam of her dark hair.

  “Miss Elizabeth,” he called boldly across the table. She turned her head to look at him curiously, a pink tinge touching her face. He was again struck with the idea that she was able to read his thoughts before he spoke them aloud.

  “Your Grace?”

  “Would you care to join me on an evening constitutional?”

  Her mouth parted and Catherine tittered at his side.

  “Perhaps you should not have asked her at such a public forum,” his sister snickered. “Now she is obliged to agree.”

  Leonard instantly wished he had thought of that but the glint in Elizabeth’s eyes told him that she did not feel the least bit cornered and she nodded her head formally, her eyes darting to the side to seek her father’s approval. Leonard did not need to look at Percival—he knew precisely where the Viscount stood on the matter.

  “It is not a public forum,” Leonard told Catherine firmly. “We are among friends here, are we not? I will not be offended in the least if Miss Elizabeth refuses.”

  The question was for Elizabeth as he willed her to give him the answer he desired. Leonard could not be certain if he was speaking the truth about taking offense.

  “If it pleases my father, I will join you, Your Grace.”

  Leonard beamed and he knew then that Elizabeth was slowly beginning to see him the way he saw her–as a potential match.

  “It pleases me if it pleases you, Liza,” Percival replied easily. The amused lilt in his voice was not lost on Leonard. The Duke was beginning to wonder if he was becoming a joke at everyone else’s expense.

  “Then if you will excuse us,” he said, rising from the head of the table. “I believe we will do that now before Miss Elizabeth changes her mind.”

  “With respect, Your Grace, it seems you are more apt to a shift of heart than my sister.” Stunned, Leonard whipped his head around to look at David, who stared back at him defiantly. He was instantly reminded of the boy who had openly confronted him at the wedding in Fife.

  Is young David going to be a problem now?

  “I assure you, Mr. Follett, I am anything but fickle when it comes to my heart,” Leonard told him easily although his eyes had narrowed into slits. “I cannot imagine where you would get such a perception of me.”

  “I do not imagine Miss Priscilla would agree,” David retorted. Catherine, unladylike, whooped with laughter, fuelling Leonard’s mounting annoyance.

  “DAVID!” The cry was simultaneously uttered between his father and Elizabeth.

  “Mind your manners!” Elizabeth hissed, her face flushed although whether she was embarrassed for David or for himself, Leonard could not tell.

  “Forgive my son,” Percival grunted, his face red with humiliation. “I fear the exhaustion of the day has caught up with him and dimmed his wits. David, I suggest you apologize to our host and retire immediately.”

  “Of course,” the boy muttered. “Forgive me, Your Grace. I must rest.”

  He hurried from the dining room before another word could be exchanged but there was little sincerity in his tone. David did not give a whit how Leonard felt. The boy simply saw the Duke as a threat.

  “Please, forgive him,” Percival said again. “He knows not what he says.”

  “I cannot fault the boy for being protective of his sisters,” Leonard replied graciously. “I have been known to speak out of turn on Catherine’s behalf, also. There is nothing to forgive.”

  Yet as he shifted his eyes back to Elizabeth, he noted that she had moved her eyes away again and he was consumed with a sense of disappointment.

  He could see whatever doubts she had dismissed about him had come flooding back with her brother’s bold words. Leonard was left wondering if Elizabeth would ever fully trust him in light of how they had met.

  She will, he told himself firmly. I will not give up until she does.

  He forced a smile he did not feel upon his face.

  “Shall we, Miss Elizabeth?”

  Slowly, she raised her eyes back toward him and nodded meekly.

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  He moved toward her, extending an arm for her to take. She accepted it and the two silently slipped from the hall, embarking on their first moment together away from the eyes of the world.

  Leonard barely noticed when Bernadette fell into step, quietly behind them. His eyes were focused only on his lovely companion.

  Chapter 12

  “Dare I ask?” Catherine whispered in Elizabeth’s ear. “You are smiling like a cat who swallowed a bird whole.”

  Elizabeth eyed her companion, a warm flush creeping up her neck.

  “I had not realized,” she replied with embarrassment but it did not surprise her. She had been unable to get the thought of her walk with Leonard out of her mind since they had returned to the manor the previous night. She should have been exhausted from lack of sleep but if anything, Elizabeth felt rejuvenated, as if she had been reborn, on a simple constitutional which had lasted two hours.

  In some ways, she could still feel Leonard’s arm in hers, much like his sister held fast to her. Up ahead of the two ladies, Frances skipped in her usual fashion, pausing only to stare at storefronts and point in excitement at something she saw. The men had embarked upon their hunting expedition early that morning, leaving the ladies to attend town as they had discussed the previous evening.

  “Are you as smitten with my brother as he appears to be with you?” Catherine urged, pressing Elizabeth for details . “I have not often seen him as vigorous in his approach.”

  “I like His Grace very much,” Elizabeth offered lamely, despising the sound of her reply. She knew that Catherine was hoping for a much more satisfying answer.

  “Well, I suppose that is something,” Catherine chuckled. “I would loathe to hear you did not care for him at all.”

  Elizabeth knew she was teasing her but in truth, she was still very conflicted by her feelings toward the Duke. It was not that she did not savor his companionship. In fact, even as they continued their tour of the town, Elizabeth could not deny that she was looking forward to resting her eyes upon him that night at supper, where Leonard had promised to next see her. She could not get the thoughts of his handsome face, the timbre of his laugh, nor his good humor from her thoughts for one second. Even Frances’ endless girlish blathering could not shift her focus from the Duke.

  Yet in the shadow of Elizabeth’s thoughts were David’s cross words at supper and the notion of Priscilla, who had been badly slighted in such a humiliating way.

  Who is to say His Grace will not treat me in the same manner if he finds another he prefers to me? Catherine claims he is smitten but how often does he become smitten?

  A part of her knew that it was impossible, that Elizabeth had nothing to fear in that regard, as the Duke had never cared for Priscilla. She reminded herself how cold he had been to Priscilla. There had been no sens
e of love between them, even though she had clung to Leonard like a leech. Moreover, the look in Leonard’s eye when he stared searchingly into Elizabeth’s face was not that of a man who had anything but loyalty and devotion on his mind.

  She forced the lingering unpleasantness from her mind, determined not to think of Priscilla again or the situation which had led her to be in Pembroke.

  I shall count my blessings that His Grace cares for me and not permit anything to plague our budding happiness, she vowed. Yet before she could cast aside the last of the bitterness, Catherine volunteered something which did not help her cause.

  “I am elated that Leo came to his senses,” she told Elizabeth confidentially. “Priscilla was a witless tart.”

  Elizabeth’s spine tensed and she did not immediately realize she had stopped walking. She did not wish to think of Priscilla but she did not much appreciate hearing the woman be insulted, no matter how accurate a description Catherine may have given. The ring of Priscilla’s cruel words reverberated through Elizabeth’s head from the wedding.

  “Everyone knows about her! I heard she permitted herself to be deflowered by a stable hand! Can you imagine?”

  The woman had spoken, loud enough for everyone in earshot to hear. A buried flood of sadness had washed over Elizabeth at the time but in that moment, listening to Catherine degrade Leonard’s formerly betrothed, Elizabeth could not stifle the pity she felt for Priscilla. It appeared that the lady had loved Leonard but her affections had been unrequited. There was no cause for Catherine to add to her suffering, whether or not Priscilla would hear of it.

  “I am certain that Miss Priscilla has many fine qualities,” Elizabeth said stiffly. “There is no need to insult her.”

  Catherine gaped at Elizabeth.

  “You cannot be serious!” she choked. “The woman insulted you endlessly! How can you be so…”

  Catherine was at a loss for words.

  “Forgiving!” she finally managed and Elizabeth could not resist a small laugh.

  “I believe God sees all things,” Elizabeth explained. She tugged gently on Catherine’s arm to move her along, lest she lose sight of Frances. Her sister had already rounded a corner, the tails of her skirt disappearing with her. Bernadette quickened her steps to follow but the Duke’s sister was unperturbed that their chaperone had vanished along with the older Follett girl. Catherine simply had no notion of how quickly one could lose Frances. God forbid she catch sight of a hare or butterfly.

  “I am not one to judge,” Elizabeth continued. “Moreover, Miss Priscilla seems to be pained in her own right. I need not add to that woe. Why would I? I am happy with what I have been given.”

  Elizabeth knew that included a chance at love with Leonard.

  “Well,” Catherine drawled as they, too, made their way around the corner which had claimed Frances. “I daresay I see why my brother finds you so endearing.”

  “You seem skeptical,” Elizabeth commented and drew to another halt where her sister had stopped. “You do not believe that matters happen as God intended?”

  “I believe that some people are more miserable than others,” Catherine replied shortly. “And are not worthy of forgiveness.”

  Idly, Elizabeth wondered if there was more to Catherine’s disgust toward Priscilla than she knew. The Duke’s sister appeared to have quite a loathing for a woman whose only fault appeared to be dimwittedness.

  Perhaps Lady Catherine is more protective of her brother than she believes.

  If that was the case, Elizabeth realized she was fortunate that Catherine liked her for Leonard.

  “Look, Liza!” Frances gasped, thereby ending the heavy conversation between Elizabeth and Catherine. “There it is!”

  It took Elizabeth little time to understand at what her sister indicated. Clearly, it was the headdress she had yearned for, the dainty net of gold emblazoned with pearls.

  “I must have it!” Frances announced and Elizabeth stifled a small sigh.

  “You must buy it at once!” Frances continued, possibly sensing the refusal which was apt to spring from Elizabeth’s lips.

  “Franny, you have so many headdresses.”

  “Then what is one more?” Frances asked innocently.

  “Do indulge her,” Catherine pressed. “She is like a young girl.”

  Elizabeth knew Catherine did not mean to sound condescending but the words stabbed her all the same. She was constantly reminded of her sister’s shortcomings without others bringing it to her attention.

  “I cannot,” Elizabeth murmured but Catherine did not to hear her as she untangled her arm from Elizabeth and looped it in with Frances.

  “Come along, Frances. I daresay I see a brooch inside Mother would adore. We shall try on the headdress and see if it suits you.”

  They swooped into the store together, leaving Elizabeth outside. She could not be certain but she did not believe she had enough in her purse to purchase the piece, if Frances had her heart set upon it. In Gordon, she would have simply asked that the headdress be charged to the manor but she was not in Gordon any longer.

  Perhaps if I ask Catherine to charge it to Brookside, Father can take care of the accompt when he returns from hunting.

  The notion embarrassed her and she wished she had thought to bring along more money. She did not want to ask Catherine for such a favor but she also knew what a scene Frances was apt to cause if she was refused the piece.

  While Elizabeth adored Frances more than her own life, the older Follett sister was oftentimes a burden. Of course, Elizabeth would never admit such a thing aloud but it was instances such as these when Elizabeth wished her sister were more commonplace and less “special” as their father called her.

  Elizabeth was filled with shame as the thought materialized. Her sister was indeed a wonderful soul, filled with so much light and life. True, she was difficult to handle on occasion but to wish she was someone else…Elizabeth recanted her thought. She did not long for her sister to be anyone but who she was.

  Mr. Barlough seems to appreciate her as she is meant to be appreciated. Why can I not do the same?

  Elizabeth remained outside although she could see her sister and Catherine speaking with the proprietor of the shop. She did not wish to enter for she knew when she did, Frances would immediately begin to clamor for the headdress. The women disappeared from view for a moment and Elizabeth sighed, turning away from the glass. In a moment, Frances would return outside to seek her. She had no desire to invite the inevitable. She gasped when she finished her half-turn, the face of a woman nearly poppyseeds from hers.

  “What are you doing in Pembroke?” Priscilla hissed, her eyes alive with fury. “Have you not done enough damage, hussy?”

  Elizabeth reeled back, shocked by the insult. Her eyes darted about to seek assistance but there was no one to help her. Passersby slowed their gait, however, pretending not to watch but it was clear they were intrigued by the scene unfolding.

  “Answer me!” Priscilla howled, her face contorting into an unbecoming look of derangement. Elizabeth saw near-madness in her eyes and she wondered if the lady would strike her. She prayed Priscilla had more good sense than she was displaying.

  “Miss Priscilla,” Elizabeth said in the way of a firm greeting as she curtsied stiffly. “Please permit me to pass.”

  It was not Elizabeth’s intention to engage in a fight with the woman, not when Priscilla’s emotions were so tender.

  “I will permit you to pass when you answer my query, tart!”

  A frisson of anger shot through Elizabeth’s body and she willed herself to be calm. She reminded herself that Priscilla was in pain and therefore not acting with a rational mind.

  “I will have you run from the duchy!” Priscilla shrieked. “I have the power to do so! You must leave and never return!”

  The crowd of pedestrians moved closer, a slew of whispers commencing through them. Surely they did not know Elizabeth by sight but they did recognize the Baron’s daughter.
It did not take great deduction to understand that the stranger in their midst was the woman for whom the Duke had ended his engagement to Priscilla.

  “You have no such power,” Catherine snapped, appearing behind Priscilla. Elizabeth had not noticed her exit the store.

  “Liza?” Frances called worriedly.

  “All is well, Franny,” Elizabeth told her, knowing that the scene was apt to cause Frances great upset.

  “You!” Priscilla spat, whirling to confront Catherine. “This is your doing! You are the reason for everything!”

  “You may tell yourself whatever aides you to rest well at night,” Catherine retorted. “That will not change the fact that my brother never cared for you. Now move along, Priscilla, before you accidentally learn something new.”