Page 4 of The Earl's Scarred Bride

As they climbed the stairs to their chambers, Elizabeth could feel her sister trembling beneath her arm. She waited until they were safely behind the closed door of Harriet's room before speaking.

"Harriet, what's really going on? That man in the maze?—"

"Please," Harriet whispered, sinking onto her bed. "Not tonight, Elizabeth. I can't...I just can't."

Elizabeth knelt before her sister, taking her cold hands in her own. "A week isn't much time, but perhaps if we speak to the earl, explain that your heart?—"

"The Earl of Stonefield isn't known for changing his mind once it's set," Harriet interrupted, her voice hollow. "You heard the gossip yourself. Four broken engagements, yet he's still one of the most sought-after matches in London. What chance do I have of refusing him?"

Elizabeth felt her heart constrict at her sister's defeated tone. She thought of the earl's predatory grace, the calculating intelligence behind his smile, the way he'd watched them from across the ballroom. Something about this entire arrangement felt wrong, but she couldn't quite grasp what.

"Get some rest," she said finally, pressing a kiss to Harriet's forehead.

CHAPTER TWO

Dawn had barely touched the London sky when Elizabeth heard the telltale creak of floorboards outside her chamber. Her heart tightened as she rose from her vanity, where she'd been staring unseeing at her reflection for the past hour. The soft knock that followed confirmed her fears.

"Come in, Harriet," she called softly, smoothing her hands over her morning dress.

Her sister slipped inside, still in her nightrail with a shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders. In the grey morning light, Harriet's usual vibrant beauty seemed diminished, her face pale and drawn. Elizabeth's chest constricted at the sight of unshed tears in her sister's eyes.

"I can't do it, Elizabeth," Harriet whispered, her voice cracking. "I cannot marry him."

Elizabeth crossed the room swiftly, gathering her trembling sister into her arms. "What is troubling you so? You've barely said two words since Father announced the match."

"I..." Harriet pulled back, wringing her hands. "There's something I must tell you, but you'll think me terribly foolish."

"Never," Elizabeth assured her, leading Harriet to sit beside her on the bed. "Tell me what burdens your heart so."

Harriet's fingers twisted in her shawl. "I'm in love with another."

The words hung in the air between them as Elizabeth processed their implications. "What do you mean? Who?—"

"His name is James Crawford," Harriet rushed out, as if afraid she'd lose her courage. "He's the nephew of Viscount Pembrooke. We met at Lady Morrison's ball three months ago, and he's everything I've ever dreamed of, Elizabeth. Kind and gentle and—" Her voice caught on a sob.

"The masquerade," Elizabeth breathed, understanding dawning. "The man in the raven mask. That was him, wasn't it?"

Harriet nodded miserably. "He'll inherit his uncle's title eventually, but for now, he has no fortune of his own. When he heard Father would never agree, he…” Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. "He suggested we run away to Gretna Green."

"Harriet!" Elizabeth gasped, gripping her sister's hands. "You cannot be serious. An elopement would ruin you completely."

"What choice do I have?" Harriet pulled away to pace the room, her movements frantic. "Father would never allow me to marry James, even if we waited. The earl is one of the wealthiest peers in England—that's all Father cares about."

Elizabeth watched her sister's agitated movements, her mind racing. The enormity of what Harriet was considering sent chills down her spine. "When were you planning to leave?"

"Tonight," Harriet whispered, stopping by the window. "James has arranged everything. A carriage will be waiting behind the baker's shop on Bond Street."

"Tonight?" Elizabeth stood, her heart pounding. "But the wedding?—"

"Will never take place," Harriet finished, turning to face her with desperate determination. "I know it's scandalous, but I cannot bear the thought of marrying the earl. You've heard the rumors about him, Elizabeth. Four broken engagements in one season! And the way he looks at people, like they're pieces on a chessboard..."

Elizabeth moved to grasp her sister's shoulders. "Listen to me carefully. Running away to Gretna Green is not the answer. The scandal would destroy any chance of a respectable future."

"But—"

"There's another way," Elizabeth said, an idea forming even as she spoke. "Aunt Margaret has been begging us to visit her estate in Derbyshire. Go to her instead."

Harriet's eyes widened. "What?"

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