“A pleasure, Professor,” the duchess replied kindly after his bow.
“Professor!” The duke reached them, his expression wide and welcoming. “It’s been too long.”
Her father bowed, and the duke offered her father his hand.
Elizabeth turned to her father with curiosity.
“He’s an old student and also was a fellow professor at Cambridge until recently.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. She hadn’t been introduced so she waited.
“Miss Essex, please meet my husband, the Duke of Westmore.”
Elizabeth curtsied again, showing her respect.
“Please, call me Rowles. We’re all family, or soon to be, are we not?” he said significantly.
“Please, come in. We are so pleased to have you at our home,” the duchess said, pulling Elizabeth’s arm and tucking it in her own as she led them up the stairs. “I’m sure you’re tired from your journey. Would you prefer tea first, or to freshen up?” she asked.
Elizabeth glanced to her father.
He replied. “A moment to freshen up would be most appreciated.”
“Of course. A maid will show you to your rooms, and the footmen will bring up your things shortly. I’ll have tea ready in about an hour. Will that be satisfactory?”
“Delightful. Thank you very much for your hospitality,” Elizabeth said with heartfelt appreciation.
“We have been anticipating your arrival the moment we heard the news of it,” the duchess said. “And as Rowles said, we don’t hold with convention around family. Please call me Joan.” She squeezed Elizabeth’s arm and released it.
“Thank you, and of course please call me Elizabeth,” she said to both of them.
Joan gestured to a maid, who led them up a beautifully crafted walnut staircase. Elizabeth finally gave her attention to her surroundings and was thankful she’d ignored them at first, or else she’d have been fully distracted by their beauty. Light flooded the antechamber before the staircase; the warm wood was highlighted by freshly painted cream-colored plaster walls. The marble floor at the base of the staircase was brilliantly polished, reflecting the light from the windows. She followed the maid upstairs to a wide hall lined with rich, dark wooden doors. Large paintings in elaborate frames lined the halls, accented by slender tables that held various vases with autumn flowers. Elizabeth took in the color, tasteful and understated with an undeniable wealth that she’d never seen firsthand. “Here are your rooms, miss.” The maid opened a wide door and ushered Elizabeth in.
Light spilled into the room, highlighting a four-poster bed piled high with pillows and a writing desk at the window. The room led to a washing station and likely a dressing chamber. It was largerthan any room Elizabeth had stayed in before. Still even in its grandeur, it was welcoming and inviting.
“The footmen will be up shortly with your things. Until then, may I be of assistance?” the maid offered.
Elizabeth declined her assistance, wanting just a moment to herself to think. Dismissed, the maid left and closed the door, and Elizabeth sat on the bed, sinking deep in the luxury of it as she closed her eyes and relived the past few minutes.
The duke and duchess were nothing like she’d expected. Though Collin had told stories of his sister, Elizabeth hadn’t quite believed him. However, she was so thankful that Joan, Duchess of Westmore, was exactly as her brother had described her: unconventional, quick-witted, kind, and delightful.
The duke was even more surprising. He clearly doted on his wife and didn’t appear the stuffy, self-important type that Elizabeth had associated with the title. She’d heard that one of her father’s fellow professors had inherited a title and resigned his post at the college, but she hadn’t paid much attention to the story. How unbelievable that the same man was to be her brother-in-law! She blushed, still unable to believe she was betrothed to Collin.
Betrothed, nevertheless, and here she was, meeting his family without him. Because he was in a certain amount of peril, and she would have no wordfrom him for a few days.
Her heart sank and her belly felt sick at the thought. She said a fast prayer for his safety. Heaven knew he needed all the help he could get.
The hour passed rapidly and soon Elizabeth made her way downstairs to take tea with the duke, the duchess, and her father. A footman escorted her to the parlor where Joan was waiting, teacup in hand.
“Ah, welcome. I hope you are refreshed?” she asked, indicating a chair. “Please have a seat. May I offer you some tea?”
Elizabeth thanked her, choosing a wing-backed chair across from her hostess. “Yes, please.”
“How do you take it?”
Elizabeth blushed slightly as she thought of honey and how that had led to one of her first conversations with Collin. “Nothing added, thank you.”
Joan handed her a teacup and studied her a moment. “The only downfall to being a redhead, or of the strawberry blond variety,” she said with a nod of her head toward Elizabeth, “is that our emotions tend to be reflected on our faces, like in that delicate blush you just tried to hide.” She offered a smile. “So, either I’ve made you slightly uncomfortable, or you were thinking of my brother…” She grinned. “And I sincerely hope it was the second option.”
