Elizabeth inferred Roland must be the Duke’s first name.
“It is how they became friends, the three of them.” The Duchess’s face sobered. “Our husbands may have colorful pasts, Lizzie, which do not sit well with society, but it does not make them bad men. In fact, it makes them bettermen than those of theTonwho appear to be upstanding, but in truth are not.”
Elizabeth stared at the Duchess with increasing awe. “Your Grace—Charles,” she stumbled, “may I ask if you married the Duke for love or?—?”
“For coercion?” Charles’s lips pursed. “It was a bit of both, but that is a story for another day.” She squeezed Elizabeth’s hand. “Is he very beastly, your Milton?”
“He is…” Elizabeth was unsure how to answer this woman who gazed at her with such sincerity.
“Whatever you tell me, I shan’t judge.”
“He is…” She tried again, and in a rush it tumbled out. “He is a beast and a terror and yet at times alarmingly tender, such that I do not know how to reconcile my thoughts of him in the least.”
“Well.” The Duchess adjusted her seat, taking her time to answer. “It took a good while for the Duke and myself to reconcile, Lizzie, but it was worth the hurdles. I love my husband deeply.”
Her admission shocked.
“It is hard to look past hurt,” she told her. “It is also difficult to meet another’s anger and pain with gentleness, something I learned the hard way with my Roland.”
In that moment Elizabeth believed the Duchess understood her better than anyone on earth.
“Lizzie,” Charles told her, “do not hesitate to write to me, should you need a friend. I am not often in London, but am happy to correspond. I suspect you’ve a long journey yet with your husband, one I hope ends happily for you both.”
Elizabeth was intensely grateful. “I cannot thank you enough for your offer of friendship, Your Grace.”
The Duchess beamed another brilliant smile. “Good, for I fear we must return unto the fray.” She looked across the room at the Baron. “I wish you luck.” She sighed. “It is not easy to wed one who wishes to prove himself, is it?” Her gaze fell on her own husband, in conversation with a third, swarthy-looking gentleman. “They are pirates, these men, to steal our hearts.” She looked Elizabeth squarely in the eye. “But they are admirable pirates, men worthy of love.”
And with that, the Duchess of Allendale steered them back to their respective mates, who were busy ribbing the other fellow as if they’d known the man for years.
Over the course of their wedding luncheon, the room grew ever more boisterous. Despite the presence of the Dowager Duchess of Allendale, the meal devolved all too quickly into merriment—and not the sort enjoyed by theTon. Elizabeth spotted her father and sister looking scandalized at their end of the table. They seemed unsure how to comport themselves amongst guests who ate and drank with gusto—not to mention ladies who draped themselves across gentlemen’s shoulders, or landed directly in gentlemen’s laps.
Not knowing how to ease matters, Elizabeth simply tolerated the loud, spoon-to-glass toasts her husband appeared to revel in. Yet the moment lunch finished, she sought Bella and Papa.
“Lizzie.” Annabelle spoke guardedly. “Whoarethese people?”
“Acquaintances of my husband.” Elizabeth glared at Papa. “I told you the Baron was no gentleman.”
Her father shifted on his feet. “I think it best I take Bella home early, Lizzie. In fact?—”
Only Miss Li appeared serendipitously at Papa’s side, slipping her elegant arm into Lord Winthrop’s to lead him away in close conversation. Unsure of the lady’s motive, Elizabeth was nonetheless grateful to be afforded a moment alone with her sister.
“Annabelle, donotlet Papa bully you into anything now that I am wed. As soon as I am able, I will get you out from under his thumb. With my position now as married lady I should be ableto provide you with a season when you come of age next month. Or barring that, I’ll find the means to send you to live with our cousins in Durham.”
Annabelle frowned. “But Lizzie, who will care for Papa if I, too, leave? With no one to reconcile his books, how will Cook manage the household finances?”
“He can care for himself, Bella, and high time he learn how.” Elizabeth had never understood her sister’s soft spot for their father, but she well understood Bella’s concern for dear Cook. She’d make sure the woman who’d raised them was provided for; the Baron could hardly begrudge her that.
Annabelle brushed tears from her eyes. “I don’t like this one bit,” she muttered. “Whatever shall I do without you, Lizzie?”
Elizabeth swallowed her grief, willing herself to remain hopeful for Bella, though she realized with a sinking heart they would be parted now for good. “You shall be strong and brave and smart. You shall be all these things, Annabelle, because you alreadyare.” She gripped her sister’s hands. “Have faith and visit me often, as I will visit you. And keep me apprised of Papa. I’ll not have him sell you, too, into some miserable marriage for a sum he’ll only gamble away. I won’t allow it. I will not.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Annabelle Winthrop twisted her skirts with unease. The festivities had grown only more unruly since Elizabeth’s parting words, leaving her unsure how to conduct herself, or whom she might even converse with. She wished Lizzie had not abandoned her, but as the bride, her sister was expected to broadly socialize. Annabelle hid herself in a corner of the room, awaiting Papa’s return, when a man sidled up, weaving on his feet.
“An’ why ain’tyoupartakin’ in no fun, miss? Why, you’re prettier’n all th’—”
“She’s not one of Li’s,” a gruff voice interrupted. “Christ, man, have some sense.” Annabelle’s tawny-haired savior sent the drunkard stumbling with a firm shove. “Not the brightest chap, I’m afraid,” he apologized, straightening his suitcoat.
