She presented herself before the duke and sank into a low curtsey. “Duke Howard.”
Duke Howard bowed, his gaze resting on her cleavage, and offered his hand. “Lady Elizabeth, you look marvelous in that dress.”
She placed her hand in his, restraining her grimace as he kissed her knuckles.
Duke Howard gave her an oily smile and placed a hand at the small of her back. The feeling of him touching her made her skin crawl. She itched to swipe his hand away, but she forced her hands to stay limp at her sides.
High and lesser nobles made their way towards them, offering pleasantries and honeyed words. Duke Howard accepted their congratulations with cheer, and she tried to say as little as possible.
When Duke Howard and her parents left to mingle with the other guests, Charlotte came to join her. Charlotte’s solid presence at her side kept her grounded to reality as others came over to offer their congratulations.
Lady Patricia and Lady Lorine glided over to them, giggling.
“I hear congratulations are in order, darling sister,” simpered Lady Patricia.
“Thank you,” Elizabeth said stiffly.
“I can’t imagine you’ll have to sleep with that old bag of bones. Perhaps, old men are your type?” Lady Lorine teased.
Lady Patricia laughed, a high delicate sound. “Whoever knew you were sodesperate in your quest for a husband.”
Elizabeth smiled politely. Inwardly, she felt herself crumble.
“As if you didn’t see the outrageous wealth and comforts of the Howard manor,” Charlotte snapped, waving a dismissive hand at the manor around them. “She will be the wealthiest woman of all of us by far,” Charlotte said sharply. “Perhaps if you are so lucky, the duke has a younger cousin.”
Lady Lorine bobbed into a curtsey. “Meaning no offense, of course. Come on, Patricia, let's go.”
Elizabeth shot Charlotte a grateful smile.
Soon, Charlotte left to dance with young gentlemen, and Elizabeth stood alone. She swallowed, heart hurting.
So, this was to be her life, then.
The walls and rooms were extravagant; drapery and oil-paintings hung everywhere boasted images of red roses and florals. She would certainly be a wealthy woman here, but at what cost?
Towards the end of the evening, when the guests had started to leave and the musicians began to play slower songs, the duke asked her to have a goblet of wine with him by the fire. He barked at one of his servants to chaperone for them and led the way.
Her mother glanced at the two of them leaving the ballroom, trailed by a serving girl, and waved them off with a smile.
The duke led her by the hand to a sofa, where she sat primly. She swirled her goblet of wine and took a sip, waiting for him to speak.
“You look lovely tonight,” Duke Howard said, choosing to sit entirely too close to her, and addressing the words to her décolletage.
“Thank you,” she said stiffly.
His gaze jerked up to her face, as if he forgot she was there.
“I hear that you like to hunt, Duke Howard,” she began awkwardly. “Perhaps you would tell me more.”
His breathing grew heavier as he shifted even closer. His ruddy skin glistened with sweat, and thin strands of hair lay plastered across his shiny scalp. “Hunting—yes, I go hunting. Nothing, I’m sure, you would be interested in. It’s a gentleman’s sport.”
“Perhaps,” she said, taking another brave stab at conversation. “Perhaps you could tell me more of your interests, so that we might become better acquainted?”
“Why? Is there something in particular that you want to talk about?”
“Er.”
His weathered hand slid across the cushion to grasp hers, his thumb stroking her palm in a possessive gesture. Elizabeth pressed herself against the arm of the sofa, but there was nowhere to retreat. Before she could politely extract herself, he leaned in, the sour scent of wine on his breath making her stomach turn.
