The inference of Elizabeth’s volunteer work at the orphanage was considered indelicate.
Alva froze in her tracks, twirled, and then smiled at Elizabeth. “That is a but a passing diversion.”
How dare her mother bar her from seeing her daughter. Reality set in. Her mother’s marriage plans were coming at her like a steaming locomotive. Did she have no choice in the matter? An icicle lodged in her stomach. The luxury of the current status quo would cease. Looming imperious restrictions sealed imprisoning bars. Elizabeth would be shipped to England and never see her daughter.
Might her father support her refusal to marry the duke? He had supported her college education. She held fast to a last sliver of hope.
“We shall consider,” her mother said—meaning of course, that she would consider, and the other ladies would listen humbly to her discourse and conclusion on the topic, concerning the announcement of her betrothal to the duke and all the subsequent preparations. What was she to do? Her blood turned to ice. She was treading perilous water, trying to put her feet down on something solid, yet there was no bottom.
Elizabeth rose to leave. “It is not a passing fancy. I love my work with the orphans and will not be denied.”
“You should not speak of such?—”
Elizabeth stood full on rebellious, summoning her best erudite response to infuriate her mother and expose her as a dreaded bluestocking with the duke’s family. “Dear Mother,that’s because of my natural flair for high dialectics, always ready to strike back at the slightest hint of inanity.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Zach sat in the Fitzgerald box bored with the first act ofRigoletto. Shawn had talked him into attending the opening of a new opera to get his mind off things, especially the situation with Elizabeth. Except the Fitzgerald rifle manufacturer bowed out at the last moment leaving Zachary to escort Shawn’s wife, Amanda, and his three sisters-in-law, Catherine, Rachel and Grace who had caught them unaware with a surprise visit to the city. Except for Elizabeth, he had to admit the remarkable women his brothers had chosen for wives rivaled the most beautiful in New York.
How clever his brothers were to have pawned their wives on Zachary for the evening, leaving him as the sole beneficiary of their outrageous antics. They were all strong women, made stronger by living through extraordinary events during the war. He could well understand how his brothers had their hands full with these women.
Every effort was made for them to share endless witticisms that left them swimming in laughter with anything that caught their amusement. To keep Zachary’s attention, Grace had the annoying predisposition to tap him repeatedly with her fan. Rachel curved her hand around his neck and gave him a sisterlypeck on the cheek. Catherine held her opera glasses in reverse for him to peer through. For the torture the women were putting him through, Zachary pictured his brothers serving hilarious toasts to one another. He pushed the glasses away for the object of his thoughts sat across the theater in the Spencer box with the duke.
Amanda nodded knowingly to the box across from them. “Our poor Zachary, how dreadful for him.”
“Whatever do you mean?” feigned Grace.
“I daresay a single spark can cause a prairie fire,” said Catherine.
“I agree,” said Rachel, fanning Zachary with her program. “The poor boy is a train wreck.”
“Looks like his soulmate is otherwise occupied,” teased Catherine. “I wonder what he is going to do about it?”
Zachary’s hands fisted in his pockets. He was prohibited from being anywhere near Elizabeth while the waste of humanity man-child sat beside her. A shimmering wave of pulsing fury clouded his vision. The duke let his hand drift to the back of Elizabeth’s shoulder. She removed his hand and glared. The duke then leaned over, ogling her breasts, while pretending to talk to Louise seated on the other side. Elizabeth slapped him, stood to depart. He yanked her into her seat, holding her there while she struggled. Her pathetic sister did nothing.
Zachary had enough. “A greater crock of depravity I’ve never seen.”
“I saw it, too,” said Amanda and so echoed the rest of his sisters-in-law. “She needs help.”
Within seconds, Zachary burst into the Spencer box. The duke’s eyes, flashed like twin coals in a pallid face. “Good evening, Mr.–, I’m at a loss for your name, and I must remind you of your rude intrusion. This is a private box. If you don’t leave posthaste, I’ll contact an usher to remove you.”
“Zachary Rourke and a name you will not soon forget. And just try to have me removed.” Zachary took Elizabeth’s hand and pulled her behind him.
The duke’s lips thinned, and his needlelike nose contrived to make him resemble a predatory albatross. “I insist you release, Miss Spencer,” he said in haughty nasal undertones.
“So you can maul her. Not a chance.”
Nervous and high-strung, the duke’s left eye twitched, and he kept moving his black mustache around as if he were shaking off a fly. “Have we chatted before?”
Zachary raised a brow. “Why would we chat? We are hardly friends.”
Jaw hardening, the duke cursed. “Because we are civilized men.”
“Speak for yourself.”
The man swallowed, clearly uncomfortable with the encounter and at a loss as to how to remove himself from it. The duke threw a punch landing in Zachary’s chest.
Zachary didn’t budge. “Is that your best?”
