“I’ll be fine.” Elle straightened her spine. She would eat. She would make pleasant conversation. But given the first opportunity, she would make her escape.
Following that, she would climb into her bed and allow herself at least one more truly good cry. “This shouldn’t take long.”
Those were the thoughts that got her feet moving. Out the door, through the corridor, and down the stairs to the drawing room exclusively used for entertaining.
But when she opened the door, she had to wonder if she was dreaming. Or, perhaps, having some sort of nightmare. For holding a drink in one hand, standing and talking with her father, was a man she’d never expected to see again.
Carter’s father.
Fate’s Work or Father’s?
All eyes shifted to Elle, who was gripping the door and feeling utterly confused.
“Giselle.” Her father gestured for her to enter, looking annoyingly satisfied with himself. “May I present the Marquess of Ashwood. My lord, meet my beautiful daughter, Lady Giselle.”
Still, Elle stood frozen.
“Darling?” The duchess prodded Elle, who miraculously managed to force her feet to move so she could enter the room.
What was happening?
She felt even more perplexed when the marquess smiled politely and bowed over her hand.
He didn’t recognize her. Why would he when he’d dismissed her so easily earlier that day?
“My lord.” She curtsied.
Not only did the marquess not recognize her, but he openly studied her. He must have approved of what he saw, for he turned to her father and smiled. “I do hope my son hasn’t been delayed this evening. He’s a busy man, what with his theater work…”
The double doors swooshed open and the butler formally announced their new arrival. “Lord Edmund, Your Grace.”
The marquess tittered. “Good of you to come, Edmund. And you are only...” He glanced at his watch. “Twelve minutes late.”
Elle blinked even as Carter pinned an angry stare on the marquess. “Father?” He did not see her.
Was this a dream? Why were Carter and his father in her home? She took a step toward the door and raised a hand to pluck at her bodice.
Lord Edmund.
Moving slowly, almost like she was underwater, Elle stared at the latest guest. It was Carter. Carter Dodd was the Marquess of Ashwood’s son. But he could not be!
Elle shook her head and her knees would have given out on her if she hadn’t been gripping the back of the settee.
And then she uttered a single word:
“Edmund?”
Carter swung his gaze to her, looking as confused as she felt.
“I came for you,” he said.
“Lady Giselle, allow me to present my son, Edmund Carter Dodd, third in line to the Ashwood marquessate.” The marquess looked like the cat who ate the canary. “Edmund, this is Lady Giselle, the Duke of Marbury’s eldest daughter.”
Carter’s brows shot up and, caught in one of her lies, Elle bit her lip.
She then glanced over to her parents, who were staring at one another looking even more satisfied.
But her father’s butler hadn’t taken his leave, and before Elle could say another word, he made another announcement.
