Page 88 of The Scarred Duchess
“Of course, he has. Were you not publicly lauded as one of the Season’s Diamonds?”
Elizabeth lowered her eyes. “I am not you, dear sister.”
“Nor would I wish you to be.”
“Oh, Jane,” replied Elizabeth in a rueful tone, “forgive me. I did not mean to offend you.”
Jane pulled Elizabeth into an embrace. “You cannot do so. I urge you to accept that which I have granted you time and time again.”
“Maybe one day I shall,” Elizabeth replied, “but today is not that day.” She fiddled with the pillow ties.
“Ask me your question. Your hands have again given you away,” Jane said.
“I am to marry. Before you. Had you not …”
"Had my accident?”
“Yes,” Elizabeth whispered. “You would be married to…”
“John. You may say hisname. It is John.”
Elizabeth grasped her hands. “Jane… are you… what are you feeling?”
Jane smiled. “I am ecstatic my brilliant Lizzy has found a man worthy of her notice.” She squeezed Elizabeth’s hands. “As for me, all manner of things shall be well.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
The Duke of Somerset’s Twelfth Night Ball was a crush. Despite the cool weather, the windows were open. Ladies wore their best: silks, turbans, ribbons, and feathers of every shape, size, and colour were on display. The broadsheets would memorialise the Winter of 1811 as the Season of the Lily—every male attendee wore a colouredfleur-de-lisin his lapel, hoping to gain the attention of the Queen’s favourite.Yet, she will be mine, thought Marquess Beauford. He had assured his father of the match, which brought him rare praise.Beauford tried not to recall the lascivious smile the duke had worn when Miss Bennet’s beauty was described.
Miss Bennet was dancing the first set with Lord Matlock. Lesser hopefuls seeking her attention worked to avoid the earl’s glare but Beauford maintained his insouciance. Miss Elizabeth Bennet danced in her sister’s quadrille as she partnered with Darcy the dullard. Their pairing for the opening set had led to gossiping matrons whispering harshly at daughters. It was all very tiresome.
He had never before seen Miss Bennet relax her reserve—she floated and glided through the forms. The candlelight enhanced what was already difficult to ignore. Her allure was magnetic. She had eschewed her veils; her siren’s smile called to him.I must have her!
He was repeatedly rebuffed in his efforts to approach her. At the end of each set, the Fitzwilliam and Darcy fortress opened its gates and as she crossed its threshold, closed behind her. He choked upon his ardour.
The sisters exchanged dancing partners throughout the evening. Lord Matlock danced the second set with the latter as the elder Mr Darcy paired with the former. The third set added the ladies’ uncle, Edward Gardiner; he was merely a tradesman but well-connected and a man whose reputation warranted caution in any dealings. Beauford had never met the man, despite Gardiner’s usury when he had been too deep in his cups and too empty in his purse to be sensible. He involuntarily shuddered as he recalled his meeting with Roark.
Beauford sipped wine and continued to avoid the hopes of any other young ladies. His attention remained on the Bennet sisters. When Miss Elizabeth danced the supper set with Darcy, it became clear that one of theton’s most eligible gentleman had been purloined.He is as rich and stodgy as she is handsome and lively. An odd match.It would be comical if he were not so invested in gaining her more beautiful sister’s favours.
Across the centre line, an unknown man followed Miss Bennet’s every step, a woeful look upon his admittedly handsome face. A visage that sported some unspecified familiarity. He signalled a footman. “Have my man enquire of the gentleman’s name, the one with the blue waistcoat.”
Minutes later, a note was discretely placed into his hand.Beauford unfolded a piece of blank paper. He turned and met his man at the nearest column.
“He is known as Mr John Smyth of Netherfield Park.”
“But?” asked Beauford.
“He is Lord Lambrook.”
Ah.Beauford smiled. “The prodigal cousin returns,n’est-ce pas?” His man nodded.
“Where is the Scotsman?” asked Beauford.
“Away, my lord.”
Then I shall quietly tie Lambrook’s garter.Beauford ambled around the ballroom, acknowledging connexions and bestowing false pleasantries to hopeful maidens and their mothers. He stopped next to his cousin. “This Season shall go down as one unmatched in its elegance, shall it not?”
“I find each Season pleasantly unique in its differing aspects,” replied Lambrook.
