Page 90 of The Highlander Is All That

Chapter Eighteen

Following the debacle at the Moncrieff ball, Elizabeth went into a decline. There was no other word for it.

She curled up under her covers, refused meals, and slept—or pretended to sleep—for days.

She’d never been so miserable.

Her younger sisters were, understandably, befuddled. They couldn’t fathom why she was distraught, because she’d just become engaged to one of the richest men in the ton.

They did not know the truth—at least the whole of it—and Elizabeth was not inclined to share with them.

Anne was the only one who seemed sympathetic, but then, she knew the truth. She came to Elizabeth’s room each morning and tried to get her to drink her chocolate, and when Elizabeth couldn’t be tempted, Anne rubbed her back and hummed tuneless songs.

Victoria and Mary visited as well, but mostly to whisper about her when they thought she was sleeping.

“Do you suppose she’s ill?” Mary asked one day.

“She seems ill.”

“She doesn’t seem like a woman head over heels in love, does she?”

“No. And each time I tell her Twiggenberry has called again, she just groans.”

“They were caught in flagrante delicto,” Mary said.

“That is true.”

Elizabeth’s fury rose. She could not let this go unanswered. She rolled over and barked, “He kissed me against my will.”

Her sisters lurched back in surprise. “Oh my,” Mary said. “You look terrible.”

With a huff, Elizabeth pulled the covers over her head.

The bed dipped as one of them sat. Victoria apparently. “I can understand your annoyance at that. I know you hate being forced into anything. Why, when we were girls and Papa tried to make you eat your vegetables, you threw them at the ormolu clock—”

Mary snorted. “I daresay this is on another plane entirely. Her entire future is at stake. If she doesn’t want to marry a man, she should be allowed to say no.”

“Of course she can say no,” Victoria sniffed. “No one would expect her to say yes if she really didn’t want to.”

“Lady Jersey would,” Elizabeth mumbled from beneath the blankets.

“We don’t give a fig what Lady Jersey thinks,” Victoria said gently.

“Of course you do.” Elizabeth sat up and stared at her sisters, ignoring their grimaces at the state of her red eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “Everyone does. Everyone has to.” A wail.

“Nonsense.” Mary frowned.

“Ask Aunt Esmeralda. She will tell you.”

“She’s not speaking much.”

Elizabeth stilled. “What do you mean?”

Her sisters exchanged a glance and Victoria shrugged. “Whenever we bring it up she says, not now.”

“She’s canceled morning calls as well,” Mary added.

“And we’ve withdrawn from the season.”