Page 24 of A Virgin for the Cruel Duke

Elizabeth stared at her. “Then you too…”

“Yes, my marriage was also an arranged one. I know that it’s the fashion now for people to make their own choices on the matter, but both our parents were very old fashioned. The Marquess has always said that the instant he met me he was in love with me.”

“Did you find -” It felt like a dangerous question to ask out loud.

“We are very happy together and love each other very much,” Celia said firmly. “But I know all too well how difficult it can be to be married to a man you barely know.”

A rush of relief so powerful that she nearly cried ran through Elizabeth and she clasped one of Celia’s gloved hands, trying to keep her expression calm. “How did you manage it? Can you tell me anything that might help?”

“Oh Your Grace,” Celia said softly, her voice warm. “There are a number of things that may help depending on the troubles you are having. When we were first married I had endless arguments with my husband about one thing or another. It became bitter and we became cold and distant for months before we both managed to understand each other. What saved us from further heartbreak was finding ourselves stuck in a small inn during a thunderstorm. The Marquess and I were forced to talk at length and we found that so many things that had hurt us both had been an inability to see why the other wanted to do what they were doing.”

“Just talking made so much of a difference?”

“Oh indeed! Communicating often, well and with true curiosity has made us strong enough to weather any mishap. I recommend that the next time that you find yourself in a situation where you feel frustrated that you try to talk clearly about what you want and why. Men are wonderful creatures, and the heavens know that we couldn’t possibly manage without them, but they do struggle so to understand what is not spelled out for them.”

Celia clapped her hands briskly. “Now, Your Grace, let me get you one of our round cakes and then we really must start the dancing!”

Dancing with the Marquess was very different to dancing with Stephen Elizabeth found. He was shorter, but that was not themost striking difference, nor was his jovial manner. His hands were not as strong, as strangely safe. His touch didn’t make her feel like she must thrill straight out of her skin or leave her cheeks flushed. He was very good, true but he didn’t make dancing feel like they were so in tune with the music that they were becoming part of it.

Many other dancers joined them on the dance floor once they had started and Elizabeth was a little nervous that even her cautious practicing with Diana would not prevent her from making an example of herself and careening into someone.

However the Marquess kept them going in the right direction and even managed to make them look presentable with it. Her cheeks were flushed with exertion and pleasure as they stopped, and he gallantly led her over to a chair and promised to return with some lemonade.

“My word, Your Grace,” a lady’s voice said from very nearby. “You and the Marquess make a fine picture out on the floor.”

Elizabeth looked up to see a lady in a becoming gown of light lilac that was not as fancy as anything that Stephen’s sisters were wearing standing near her with another couple of ladies in tow. The lady was looking at her with an expression that Elizabeth was extremely familiar with, a sort of sour pleasantness. A sweetness that was meant to sting.

“Indeed?” Elizabeth said calmly, wondering what possible reason these women could have for trying to corner her so. “It was most enjoyable. I am quite out of breath.”

“I can imagine,” the lady continued, that sour note only more evident in her voice. “We are fortunate to have quite a few gentlemen present but the ladies still outnumber them, sadly. I hope your husband will be willing to dance a few rounds with us single ladies later?”

“I certainly can’t speak for my husband.” Elizabeth was not sure that it was proper to ask the lady her name, and for want of anything else to do, looked at her companions for a clue as to what was going on. Both ladies looked uncomfortable in the way people might if they were about to watch something go very badly, and they didn’t want to admit they were looking forwards to watching it.

“You must tell us how you managed to tie him down at last,” the lady said. “The Duke is such a close friend of the family that we have been hoping to see him happily wed for some time, but always despaired of it actually happening.”

Oh.

Suddenly things became a great deal clearer and Elizabeth sat up a little straighter. “Is it not wonderful that we have found each other? I am sure that you must be overjoyed to see him happily settled down, as a friend of the family.”

“Of course,” the lady went an unbecoming shade of pink around her cheeks. “We were hardly expecting it to happen so fast, however. Why the banns were read for barely three weeks!”

“The heart wants what it wants, and we were eager to be wed,” Elizabeth stood and nodded, remembering Stephen’s grip on her arm and deciding that it was best not to curtsey. “Excuse me.”

“So we will not soon be invited to a christening?” the lady asked sharply, stepping forwards and staring at Elizabeth with a sort of rank boldness that took her aback.

Everything that she could think of to say sounded in her ears like a confession. The protest would be taken as a statement of guilt, not to say anything would be taken similarly. It was so rude, so gauche a thing to have implied, nay outright stated, that Elizabeth could see the other two ladies stepping backwards discretely, wanting to get further away from the disaster that was happening.

“Why Miss Sandford,” a voice said from just to Elizabeth’s right. “I did not know that you were so eager to speak about babies. I must introduce you to Mrs. Eastbrook. She is to give birth in five months and she is dying to tell someone about her pains.”

Celia stepped in between the two of them and took Miss Sandford by the arm, gracefully sweeping her away as Selina joined Elizabeth and threaded their arms together. “I think I heard my brother asking after you, sister,” she said, making terrifyingly threatening eye contact with the now shrinking other women. “Come, we mustn’t keep the Duke waiting. You know how protective he is of you.”

As they walked away, Elizabeth squeezed her arm in gratitude. “I could have handled myself, you know.”

“I am fully aware,” Selina said briskly. “However in the face of such rudeness, a lady should not have to handle herself. It is enough for her to refuse to dignify such a person with her attention while her friends and acquaintances deal with it.”

It was a lovely thought. Elizabeth allowed herself to relax a little as they went to where some servants were giving out tiny little pies filled with something spiced and delicious. Being protected. Having people. Being part of something bigger than just herself.

After a little while further of watching the dancing, admiring the lights and the costumes and the food and speaking to both Celia and her husband, and at times Stephen's siblings and Stephen himself, who did his duty with a few of the single women but definitely not Miss Sandford, Elizabeth found herself sitting and blinking back exhaustion. She was sandwiched between Selina and Stephen as they talked about Diana’s dance partner and how Herbert was trying to ensure all the loneliest girls in the room had someone to dance with (except Miss Sandford).

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