Page 20 of His Illegitimate Duchess

Lady Helena’s low and graceful curtsy to the Baron caused a pang of jealousy in Lizzie’s heart.

She took in her perfect posture, her elegant pearl-grey silk gown, the delicate gold necklace and sapphire earrings that adorned her, framed by shiny curls, and Elizabeth knew that she herself would forever remain a poor forgery of a lady.

“Lady Helena,” Elizabeth and Elinor both smiled at the haughty blonde, who rewarded them with a practised smile of her own.

“Miss Hawkins, Miss Woodhouse,” she greeted them with a regal nod of the head.

Elizabeth could feel Elinor’s nails through her gloves from how hard her friend was gripping her elbow at the disrespect. Elizabeth wasn’t offended by Lady Helena Grey, and she suspected that the young woman treated everyone but potential husbands or those with higher titles poorly.

The sound of the dinner bell saved them from further conversation.

Just as they were about to move into the dining room, Nicholas and Sophie entered the drawing room.

Elizabeth’s heart wanted to leap out of her chest. Whenever she saw her brother after a longer separation, during the first few moments, her mind would mistake him for their father.

Even their voices were the same. It no longer hurt Elizabeth to see him; nowadays, it only brought her joy.

Instead of the hug she wanted to give and receive, she got a brief press of his cheek to hers, a squeeze of the hand. It’s all right, she thought, this is what they are like .

Nicholas and Sophie explained that they had been delayed by putting her niece to bed, and Elizabeth knew she had lots of warm hugs to look forward to the next day, so her evening was salvaged, although some bitter aftertaste lingered in her mouth for the rest of it. She couldn’t understand why.

*

Ever since she could remember, Elizabeth had the habit of waking up dreadfully early, unlike Mary, who cherished her morning sleep more than family and friendships (a truth that many of them had learned upon trying to wake her earlier than she liked).

It proved to be a great disadvantage to her this Season, seeing as many of the events were held late into the night.

Her first morning at Winchester was no exception, and she rose early, despite having retired to bed very late the previous evening.

She performed her morning ablutions, hoping that the water would dispel the remaining cobwebs of sleep from her eyes.

Dear Lord, let this be a day that shall be good for me, and a day in which I shall be good , Lizzie said a brief prayer as she stood at the window and rebraided her hair.

She then sat down at the escritoire and penned a letter to her mother, informing her of their arrival, the names of those present, and sending love to the members of their little household.

There were no other letters to write, for almost everyone she kept a correspondence with was in the house with her.

After putting on the morning frock Mary had laid out for her the night before in order to avoid getting up too early, Lizzie rolled her plait into a chignon and secured it with pins.

She then put a white muslin cap on, examined herself in the looking glass, decided against it, took it off, and made her way downstairs in search of some breakfast.

A footman directed her towards the dining room where the breakfast was set up, but when she reached its doors, she hesitated, just as she always did before entering a room that was full of people.

She halted for a moment to compose herself.

Someone cleared their throat to her right.

She turned and saw the Duke of Norwich sprawled out in an armchair, playing with the signet ring on his ring finger.

“Duke Talbot,” was all Elizabeth managed to say, and her tone must have reflected her thoughts very clearly because, after he’d unfolded his long body and gracefully lifted it from the armchair so he could bow to her, Talbot explained, “The Viscount invited me for the fox hunt. I arrived late last night with some of the other guests.”

His eyes took in every detail of her appearance, and he then added, “Good morning, Miss Hawkins.”

“Good morning to you as well. You seem to do that a lot. Arrive late, I mean,” she clarified.

“Some might view that as a good thing,” he replied, his voice suddenly deeper and more secretive.

Elizabeth’s cheeks flamed because, although her mind couldn’t make sense of his words, her body seemed to recognise his seductive tone. She looked towards the door. Colin shifted from one foot to the other. They were both surprised at the sudden change in the mood between them.

“Emerald green,” he suddenly said softly.

Elizabeth looked down at her dress.

“Very good,” she smiled.

“Shall we go in together?” he offered his arm, and she accepted.

When they had filled their plates, they joined the guests who were already at the table. Talbot’s plate held a balanced meal of toast, eggs, ham, and some fruit, whereas hers only held sweet pastries, and Talbot eyed it with his usual sardonic brow lift, but, for once, said nothing.

Lizzie enjoyed a conversation with the Corporal, whereas Talbot seemed very at ease with the young man called Pratt. After breakfast, the men went off on their hunt, and Elizabeth retired to one of the drawing rooms to do some needlework until her friends came downstairs to join her.

That night at dinner, she was sitting between the Baron and Louisa, and the duke was sitting across from her.

It was a house party, not a formal affair, but to be safe, she decided to talk to those on her left and right unless someone else addressed her.

She longingly gazed at Nicholas, who was sitting to the host’s right at the head of the table.

She hadn’t had the chance to see him all day.

Baron Waldegrove turned out to be a perfectly agreeable and interesting man, and nothing like his brother. And with some prompting, Louisa soon relaxed as well, and the three of them spent an enjoyable dinner together.

Lizzie sometimes had the impression that Duke Talbot was listening to their conversation, but whenever she surreptitiously glanced at him, he seemed engrossed in conversing with either Lady Helena on his right or Isabella’s husband on his left.

“Well, Norwich is a superior estate in every way, but my friend the Viscount does know how to put together a fox hunt,” she heard Talbot say.

“Sounds like Norwich is no different from its owner, then,” Lady Helena said in her clear voice.

The woman flirted openly and skillfully, but to Elizabeth, it felt less like a signal of interest and more like a meaningless exercise, something done only to demonstrate her superior skill.

She will surely receive several offers of marriage in the course of the Season, and she’ll be in the position to choose the most advantageous one , she thought bitterly.

Lizzie had the suspicion that Lady Helena kept inching closer to the Duke, most likely under the pretence of hearing him better. Elizabeth didn’t like it. She felt the Duke needed a wife more like… Lady Louisa.

Lady Louisa seemed intelligent and kind and just a little bit bashful. The duke would need to coax her out of her shell, using gentle humour and just a touch of flirtation. Elizabeth suddenly remembered his tone from that morning and shivered.

“Are you cold, Lady Elizabeth?” kind Louisa asked her.

No, he would be too much for her, Elizabeth thought.

“I thought I felt a chilly draught coming from somewhere,” she lied and forbade her eyes to look across the table for the rest of the dinner.

*

The next morning, before starting her day, Elizabeth stood at the window again and gathered her thoughts. Her room had a view of the expansive grounds in front of the house and, unlike London, it gave her a sense of breadth and openness.

A lone figure came into her view: a tall, broad-shouldered man. Talbot, she thought. He was walking slowly, followed by a large, dark dog. She’d never seen him like that – far away and deep in thought, appearing almost sad, and almost lonely.

After a lively morning spent playing with little Emma, Elizabeth went to her room to change.

She felt invigorated and fulfilled after spending time with her niece.

Whenever she got the opportunity to be around Emma, Lizzie’s goal was to let the girl know she was loved.

She imagined infusing her limbs with love through her hugs and kind words; she wanted to fill her every pore with it, so Emma could always have it with her and in her.

It had rained the night before, so it was quite easy to persuade Elinor to don the pair of boots she’d brought for her in order to be better equipped for the walk Isabella had planned for the party after the men finished their shooting for the day.

She grabbed them, hastily put on her bonnet and made her way to Elinor’s room.

On the landing, she almost collided with Duke Talbot and Mr. Pratt.

“Good Lord!” Pratt exclaimed, and she forced herself to breathe evenly.

“Excuse me, gentlemen.”

Talbot looked at her bare hand accusingly. Elizabeth cursed herself inwardly for forgetting her gloves again, her earlier thoughts about Talbot’s vulnerability completely gone.

During the walk, Sophie and Violet (and their husbands) led the way to the pond with Captain and Rover, their family dogs, while the rest of the guests broke off into smaller groups behind them.

Isabella had taken it upon herself to animate Amelia today, so she was merrily nattering about while Amelia politely listened and occasionally nodded.

Isabella’s husband was enthusiastically explaining to Pratt which dog was best for retrieving grouse, which Pratt seemed to passionately disagree on, and Lady Helena looked so bored by their conversation that Lizzie felt she most likely envied the grouse their fate.

Slaymaker and Louisa seemed engrossed in a conversation of their own, and the usually smiling Lord’s face was uncharacteristically sober.