Page 7 of A Virgin for the Cruel Duke

They were ensconced in a long room in the Westall Estate, the table laden with everything one could hope for at a breakfast and lined with enough chairs for both families and the friends that the Duke of Westall had invited. It was a vast place, sprawling out over beautiful grounds.

It was overwhelming, the luxuriousness of it all. It was too much. She wanted her room and Sally. She wanted to get away from all the people watching everything that she was doing.

Would this breakfast ever end?

She glanced over at the Duke, or Stephen as she supposed she had the right to call him. He was still very severe, the lines of his face like they were cut from stone. There was no gaiety or joy in that face, though it was handsome. His lips were set into a firm line, his eyes focused on a conversation that his brother was having with her father.

What would he look like if he smiled, she wondered.

“May I have your attention,” he said in a low commanding voice that she thought for a moment was directed at her. Then she realized he was standing, glass in hand and addressing the room. “I ask you all, ladies and gentlemen, to raise your glasses with me to my new bride. I am sure you will agree that her loveliness is only surpassed by how ardently one must feel that I am a lucky man to have secured her affections. To my wife, Elizabeth, the Duchess of Westall.”

She stared up at him, eyes round. The words were so kind, so sweet and unexpected and yet as he finished his speech he turned his gaze on her and it was cold as ice. There was no affection there for her, nothing kind.

All this time she had been sitting here feeling drawn to him, aware to her very bones of how well he looked and he saw her as nothing but a tool to bring two warring families together as one. She was his enemy and she could see as plainly as day that she was not welcome here in his home.

There was a murmur of appreciation from the gathering, who raised their glasses in response and sipped the light, fragrant champagne.

Elizabeth barely touched hers. The anxiety in her chest was in her throat now, threatening to choke her. It only got worse as Dudley finished a long draught of his drink and leant over towards her seat.

“What a lucky girl you are, dear sister, to have found a man who values you so highly.”

“Indeed,” she said softly, her eyes on her plate.

“I wonder how high that value really is,” he said softly, his lips red from berries and his smile wide with cruelty. “I wonder how high anyone here would value you if they knew more of your true background.”

This did not seem safe to reply to, so she did not.

“Have you ever seen a finer spread? Have you ever seen such a fine group of people gathered together? I simply cannot imagine how you will manage in this world, sister dearest. You are such a poor, clumsy thing. You are sure to embarrass yourself and the Westall name before long.” He put a hand on her arm, his grip tight and painful even as his voice was dripping with fake kindness. “I am only speaking for your own good, sister. You will have to learn very fast to know your place, after all.”

“Her place is at my side,” said a deep calm voice, and Elizabeth glanced up to see Stephen take Dudley’s hand and remove it firmly from her arm. “I am sure my wife,the Duchess,is aware of how much good you mean her, Lord Barnes. It’s hardly the right conversation for a wedding.”

There was a moment where the tension between them was a frisson of hate, Dudley’s face pale with two spots of flush high on his cheeks in fury at being given so stern a warning.

Elizabeth almost smiled. She had never been defended before, never had a name or title of her own to defend herself with. It made a little of the fear and anxiety filling her ebb away.

“Of course, one simply can’t interrupt a wedding,” Dudley said sweetly, staring at Stephen. “I have to congratulate you on your felicity. It’s very appealing. Perhaps I should be looking for my own wife. You could introduce me to your sisters. The young one looks particularly delectable.”

It felt as though thunder had entered the room with them. Stephen leaned forwards, his voice never raising, his tone never sharpening, and said simply, “I shall not and you will never speak of them again.” However, the expression on his face and the taught lines of his body made Elizabeth shiver.

He was a man who meant what he said. He was a man created for danger.

“How dare you -” Dudley started up a little from his seat, grasping the opportunity immediately to cause trouble as he adored to do but their father was there and putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I am sure whatever this is can be explained as wedding day spirits, is that not so, Westall? My son?”

There was a moment when Elizabeth thought Dudley might do it anyway, a moment when she was sure there would be no bringing this back from the edge.

But then he nodded slowly and sank back into his chair.

It was the first time in her life she had ever seen Dudley not get his way. A small flame that felt like joy lit in her heart and she turned to Stephen, ready to thank him.

He was glaring at her, stormy eyes full of anger. It was as though he felt she was to blame, like he was angry ather, and Elizabethshrank back a little, turned back to her plate and swallowed her thanks.

After only a little more time, the Rosenburg party decided it was time to leave and with them went the rest of the guests, laughing and complimenting the couple and wishing them the best as though Elizabeth had not sat as still as a mouse for the entire affair.

Once the farewells had been said, Stephen stood again from his seat and glanced at his own family with a small nod. Both young ladies rose and exited the room, soon followed by their brother who seemed a little more reluctant to go.

For the first time since the proposal, they were alone. Elizabeth felt her heart begin to pound once more and she stood too, hating to be so much at a disadvantage to him.

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