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  The beginning of the first act diverted Elizabeth’s attention. She smiled one last time before she became absorbed by the performances of the actors on the stage. His eyes roved around the theatre. How few people truly watched the play. For many, the theatre was merely a place to hold a social gathering. People conversed and watched the other spectators as though they were the performance.

  Tonight proved no different. A few women attempted to discreetly point at the duchess and stared while they gossiped behind their fans. Fortunately, Elizabeth took no notice of their gaping, and instead of watching the performance, Fitzwilliam became engrossed in her responses. His lips twitched up at her melodious laugh—even from the side, joy radiated from her countenance.

  All passage of time was lost as he studied every nuance and feeling that crossed her face, so the interval surprised him. Had anyone noticed his stares? He cast a quick eye around the theatre where everyone chatted amiably, but no one appeared to be paying him any mind.

  None of their party wished to mingle with the crush in the lobby, so the duke’s footman fetched wine while their group conversed. The duchess and his aunt were deep in a discussion of the first act while he pulled his eyes from Elizabeth to search the theatre for those of his acquaintance.

  Behind him, his father and godfather debated the latest politics. Richard attempted to interject his ill-founded and risky opinions into their conversation while Carlisle vehemently disagreed with his brother. The two rarely agreed on much, and Richard abhorred being proven incorrect. Fitzwilliam avoided many of their arguments since Richard became a most unpleasant companion when bested in an argument or fencing.

  Instead, he eschewed the conversation between the men in favour of the ladies’ observations. Like a moth to a flame, his ear singled out Elizabeth’s voice—Elizabeth’s laughter. Why did she draw his attention so?

  Despite the fact he should have ignored Elizabeth and watched the actors on the stage, he passed the latter half of the performance as he had the first until she turned towards him and jolted him from his reverie.

  “Did you enjoy the play?” Her every feeling and emotion was visible to anyone who cared to look. Unlike most of the jaded women of the ton, the duchess was without artifice. She was exactly who she appeared to be—a full of life, joyful young woman.

  “I did. Very much.” He swallowed the bile rising in his throat. Why could he have not met her before his cousin? Marriage was not a necessity for him—not yet, but he would have made an exception for one such as her.

  “Are you well, Fitzwilliam?” He shook himself from his startling discovery to her eyebrows dipping in the middle and an ever so slight downturn of her lips.

  “I am,” he said. “I apologise.”

  Her eyes searched his. “I suppose I shall have to accept your answer, but I believe something is indeed amiss.”

  “I have a matter which preoccupies me lately. I did not intend on letting it intrude this evening.” His words were true enough.

  “I hope it is nothing serious?”

  He shook his head. “I do not believe so. No.”

  They both jumped when everyone rose around them, making them rise and follow as their party departed the theatre. As planned, they reconvened at Worth House in Mayfair for supper.

  Thomas and Elizabeth arrived before their guests, so when the entire group entered the dining room, a place setting was already set between his father and Lady Matlock for Richard. Her Grace sat at one end of the table with his aunt on one side and Fitzwilliam on the other. He sighed in relief at the seating arrangement. Richard was not seated beside the duchess. Either she had heeded his warning, or Thomas had protected his new wife. He could not be sure which.

  Despite his younger cousin’s constant bragging, the meal was pleasant. He, his aunt, and the duchess were often engaged in conversation. Some men might find the prospect of conversing with two women to be a chore, but these two exuded intelligence and discussed most topics with a keen perspective.

  After the meal, the men remained in the dining room for brandy and cigars while the ladies adjourned to the withdrawing room. The duke mentioned an article in the paper on the latest in the Peninsular wars, which drew out an hour-long discussion with ease.

  As the men entered the withdrawing room, the ladies were in an in-depth discussion of a particular piece of literature, which prompted the duchess to stand. “I shall retrieve the book, so you may borrow it. I believe you will take great pleasure in the lyrical feeling of the poet’s work.”

  “Lizzy,” interjected Lady Matlock, “why do you not send a servant?”

  The duchess blushed and bit her lip. “I know precisely where I left it. I would locate it quicker than a footman or maid sent in my stead. I shall return directly.”

  She hurried from the room as the duke chuckled.

  “Elizabeth is not one to rely on the servants for small tasks she can accomplish herself. She does send a maid when ladies call, for I have witnessed them scurrying about to fulfil her request, but I believe since we are in such comfortable company, she is relaxed and more herself.”

  His aunt beamed with pleasure. “I shall take her manner as a compliment, then.”

  Fitzwilliam began a conversation with his aunt, but as he took in his surroundings, he noticed his younger cousin was not in the room. He leaned towards his father.

  “Where is Richard?”

  “He lagged behind with the chamber pot.” Fitzwilliam glanced at the clock. That chore did not require a quarter of an hour.

  He placed his hand upon his aunt’s arm. “Will you excuse me for a moment? I wish to go check on Richard. He should have joined us by now.”

  “I wondered where he had disappeared.”

  As he rose, she grasped his hand. “If you happen to find Her Grace, please tell her I shall send a servant to purchase the book on the morrow. She has no need to search for it.”

  “Yes, of course,” he responded quickly before exiting the room. The empty dining room showed no sign of Richard. He must have departed some time ago since the servants seem to have already cleaned the room from dinner. As he passed through the hall, he questioned a servant, who pointed him in the direction of the library. The door was ajar. As he drew closer, voices filtered through the opening.

  “I asked you to leave!” said Elizabeth in an authoritative tone.

  Richard chuckled. “Perchance, I do not wish to leave. I believe I should like to remain here with you.”

  “You have insulted me in every way imaginable. I will summon a footman if you do not remove yourself from this room directly.” At a rustle of skirts, Fitzwilliam peered through the door. The duchess strode towards the bell pull, but Richard overtook her without difficulty.

  “Now, we do not require a footman,” he said in a crooning voice. He applied a hand to her arm. “I swear to be better than that prune of a husband you wed.” He attempted to push her back towards the shelves, but she slapped him across the face. He grasped her wrist, preventing her from striking him again. “That was not ladylike.”

  “I find it doubtful you associate with many ladies,” she said through her teeth.

  Fitzwilliam’s hand reached forward, and he pushed open the door. Both pivoted around to face him, nearly Elizabeth’s entire being sagged against the bookcase, but Richard’s lips twisted into an ugly sneer. He dropped her arm and backed a step away.

  “Your Grace,” said Fitzwilliam in as even a voice as he could manage. “My aunt wished for your return. She intends to purchase the item you were discussing.”

  Elizabeth shifted a few steps to pick up a book from the table. “I found it. Unfortunately, I was detained.” Her voice trembled as she clutched the book to her chest. As she neared, she glanced back at Richard then back to him. “I did not . . . I would not . . .”

  “I overheard enough before I entered.”

  His cousin let out a bark of laughter. “Why does it not surprise me that my prude of a cousin, who never even partakes at
pushing school, is the addle-plot?”

  “Only you would be so stupid as to pursue Her Grace in her own home during a dinner party,” said Fitzwilliam. “Did you think her disappearance would go unnoticed, or yours for that matter? This is not exactly a crush of a ball.” He turned back to the duchess, whose wide eyes flitted between them both. “Pray return to the others.”

  Without a word, she hastened from the room. Richard attempted to follow, but Fitzwilliam grasped his arm before he could pass.

  His cousin jerked away. “Unhand me! I am returning to the party now that you have spoiled my fun.”

  “You will leave, and you will not speak to the duchess again.”

  An incredulous laugh burst from his cousin. “Why? Because you have decreed it?” Richard studied him for a moment and smirked. “You want her for yourself.”

  Fitzwilliam shook his head. “She is the wife of my cousin. I would not dishonour either of them by attempting what you have tonight. She is not one of those society wives who weds a man for his money and takes a lover.”

  “I do not require her to take me when I can take her.” The conceited grin upon Richard’s face angered him beyond reason. His cousin’s words were often bluster, but this was Elizabeth he spoke of.

  He grasped Richard by the lapels. “You will not force your company upon her or touch her again. She does not wish it. Do you understand?”

  A hand to his shoulder kept Fitzwilliam from slamming his cousin into the nearest wall. “I shall remove him. Do not give him reason to seek revenge. You are aware of what he is capable.”

  The same disgusting sneer graced Richard’s face. “You should listen to my brother. I do have the connexions to ruin you and the little bunter who calls herself a duchess.”

  “Give everyone our apologies,” said Carlisle as he hauled Richard over by his uniform coat. “Richard is unwell. I left to see him home.”

  Fitzwilliam studied Carlisle. “How did you know?”

  “Her Grace appeared terrified and anxious when she returned. I followed my instinct, which always seems to lead to Richard.” Carlisle flicked his head towards the door. “You should return. More than enough time has passed since the duchess returned.”

  A quick glance at Richard revealed he was not the least bit intimidated by the two of them, and Fitzwilliam sighed. “Just take him home. I shall make your excuses.”

  Carlisle nodded and dragged his brother through the hall to the front door where a carriage was soon heard pulling away from the house.

  When Fitzwilliam returned to the withdrawing room, his eyes immediately sought those of the duchess. He needed to ensure she was well. She laughed with Lady Matlock, but her usually vibrant eyes seemed dimmed and less open than before Richard’s ill-planned proposition.

  “Would you happen to know why Elizabeth returned so ill-at-ease?” Thomas stood behind him, when he turned, his expression inscrutable. He regarded Fitzwilliam with lifted eyebrows and a set jaw.

  However, Fitzwilliam did not allow his cousin’s posture to disturb him. “Carlisle asked me to beg his and his brother’s excuses.”

  Thomas straightened and stepped closer. “I take it the colonel behaved in an inappropriate manner while under my roof?”

  He peered around the room. All were occupied with a conversation. It would not do to be overheard. “He did, sir, though I interrupted him. Carlisle happened upon us a few minutes later. He insisted Richard depart with him.”

  Thomas’s jaw clenched and his hands fisted at his side. “I must speak to your uncle tomorrow. His youngest son will not be welcomed in our presence in the future.” His head tilted closer. “He truly had the temerity to proposition my wife in our home?”

  A nod was the duke’s only answer.

  “The duddering rake,” said Thomas as he seethed.

  “I believe we should return home.” Lord Matlock stood and offered his wife his arm. “We must thank you for a lovely evening, Leeds.”

  His aunt surveyed the room. “What of Nicholas and Richard?”

  “Carlisle escorted Richard home a short time ago,” said Fitzwilliam. “I would imagine he intends to send the carriage straight back. The drive is not far.”

  Lord Matlock furrowed his brow and opened his mouth, but the duke forestalled him. “We will speak of it tomorrow—if you have time to receive me around two?”

  The earl sighed. After sharing a quick look with Lady Matlock, he agreed. His wife’s response, while not as pronounced, was weary. Despite her love for her younger son, her slightly upturned lips turned down with her posture giving an almost imperceptible droop.

  Once the door closed behind the earl and countess, the duchess let out a long exhale.

  “Are you well, Elizabeth?” asked the duke.

  Her steady gaze shifted to Fitzwilliam. “You informed him of the incident in the library so soon?”

  “Your manner made it evident something occurred. I had not the time to give him particulars.”

  His father stared at them incredulously. “Are you implying Richard attempted something towards Elizabeth here? Tonight?”

  Elizabeth grimaced and rose, pouring herself a small glass of brandy. “Yes, the situation was distressing and unfortunate. I must thank you, Fitzwilliam, for your timely intervention.”

  He shook his head adamantly. “I should have made my presence known sooner. I found myself so stunned by his behaviour I am afraid I listened for a moment before I entered.” The encounter was recounted in its entirety for his cousin and the elder Darcy, but Thomas showed no sign of shock.

  “I cannot comprehend why you were stunned.” Thomas regarded him with a curious expression. “Colonel Fitzwilliam is well-known for his deplorable tendencies. Tonight’s escapade was not out of character. I hoped he would show me more respect, especially after allowing him to intrude on our evening, but I shall take that up with his father tomorrow.”

  The duchess’s eyes bulged. “Oh! Please do not embarrass Lord and Lady Matlock.”

  “Calm yourself, Elizabeth,” her husband soothed. “I shall do what I must to ensure your safety. The colonel will not be welcomed at Worthstone, Worth House, or any of my properties for that matter.”

  She closed her eyes and took a seat. “I do not wish to lose my friendship with Lady Matlock. She and Lady Vranes have been the only genuine ladies to befriend me this season.”

  The elder Darcy stepped forward. “Lady Matlock will be embarrassed, yet she will not fault you for her son’s actions. She is aware of the gossip surrounding him. He is far too notorious for all of it to be false.”

  The duchess rose from her chair. “Forgive me, but I believe I should retire. I fear a dreadful headache is forming from this unpleasant business.”

  “We understand,” consoled Fitzwilliam’s father. “I hope you will feel better in the morning.”

  Her shoulders dropped. “I believe I shall be relieved when I hear from Lady Matlock.”

  Her Grace strode over to Fitzwilliam and grasped his hands. “I must thank you once again. I do not know what I would have done without your intervention.”

  He stifled a gasp at the burst of current he received from the warmth of her hands. “I was glad to be of help, Your Grace.”

  “I thought we agreed I would address you as Fitzwilliam, and you would address me as Lizzy. You have started to call me Elizabeth on occasion, which is a vast improvement on Your Grace. I understand why we should adhere to formalities at a ball or before strangers, but we are in family company here, are we not?”

  “We are indeed,” said his cousin.

  Fitzwilliam stared into her wide, doe eyes for a moment before he smiled. “Then, I was glad to be of help, Lizzy.”

  She grinned. “Much better.”

  Chapter 4

  March 25th 1809

  Grosvenor Square

  London

  My dear Lizzy,

  Words cannot express my mortification at the behaviour of my son the evening we attended the theatre. H
is insinuation of himself into our party in itself was rude and inappropriate, but to treat you so abominably in your own home—I am appalled. I have always been aware of the gossip that follows him, but until now, I confess to having had a difficult time accepting his faults. With his treatment of you, my dear friend, I can no longer ignore his transgressions.

  My husband has withdrawn all financial support from Richard, restricting his activities until he departs for the peninsula in April. We have no assurances of how long his regiment will be gone, but his absence for the remainder of the season should provide you some comfort.

  I hope this situation has not affected our friendship as I greatly anticipate our next shopping trip.

  With fondest regards,

  Evelyn Fitzwilliam

  Elizabeth sighed and placed the letter on the escritoire. Colonel Fitzwilliam was no longer a child and would likely take umbrage to his parents’ curtailment of his activities. As long as he was abroad, his presence would prove to be a non-entity. A great sense of security would be found in his absence.

  She picked up the next missive, breaking the seal and unfolding the pages.

  March 26th 1809

  Longbourn

  Hertfordshire

  My darling daughter,

  A laugh bubbled from her lips at the address. Until her betrothal, Elizabeth had been her mother’s least favourite child. This appellation was still very new and never failed to entertain her.

  I have just returned from calling on the neighbours to read them your latest letter. Friends with a countess, boxes at the theatre—how grand it all sounds! I have such flutterings when I consider your life now. I am in raptures at every detail!

  This Mr. Darcy and his son sound very promising. I believe you mentioned the elder Mr. Darcy is a widow, and his son is still a bachelor? What a perfect opportunity for one of your sisters! You must invite Jane to Worthstone for Easter to meet these men. She is bound to attract one of them! The son would be a better match since he will inherit the estate. We would not want Jane to be thrown into the hedgerows if this Pemberley is entailed like Longbourn. That would not do at all!