Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
“Again, Mother?” Wilhelmina complained.
Of course, there would be no reprieve.
After the performance, Lady Grisham immediately dragged Elizabeth and Wilhelmina to a group of lords.
This time, though, Elizabeth was determined to show her what she’d learned.
“There is no time to lose, especially for Elizabeth,” Lady Grisham responded.
And for some reason, it felt easier. There was a part of her that truly believed she could do it.
While she wasn’t interested in any of the lords, she could at least show them what she could now.
Even though she didn’t have the opportunity to change into the type of gowns the Duke of Redmoor recommended.
“It’s getting tiring.” That was Wilhelmina again.
“What? Trying to be useful?” her mother asked harshly.
“Her perfume smells like desperation,” Wilhelmina whispered to Elizabeth, who giggled.
“That’s your mother,” Elizabeth whispered back.
“Oh, stand up straight, both of you,” Lady Grisham practically growled at them. “Smile.”
“We are smiling, Mother.”
Elizabeth scanned the group of gentlemen. The youngest was probably about her age, a handsome heir whose viscount father was still very much alive. Meanwhile, the oldest, a baron, looked pompous and too fond of sweets and all kinds of refreshments, his belly straining against his shirt.
“Dear sirs, Lord Huntington, Mr. Evans, Mr. Phillips, and Lord Anders, may I present two of my daughters, Lady Elizabeth and Lady Wilhelmina.”
There was the usual flurry of bows and curtsies. Even though Elizabeth felt the pressure of talking to potential suitors after her humiliating ordeal, she tried to think of Alasdair’s lessons.
Confidence.
She reminded herself to look at the men as if she cared about what they had to say. Through making them feel important, they would think she was worth their notice. It wasn’t something she completely agreed with, but she saw the point of it. Even these men had fragile egos, too.
“Did you enjoy the performance, my lords?” she asked, although she directed her gaze at Lord Huntington, who seemed to be the youngest.
Huntington looked pleased. He puffed up his chest, but not overly so, paying Elizabeth close attention.
“I did, Lady Elizabeth. Very much so. I like listening to Mozart,” he said enthusiastically.
“That was Beethoven playing, my lord,” Wilhelmina corrected.
Lord Huntington flushed red at his error. “Was it him? Oh, apologies. I think those two are easily confused.”
“Understandable.” Elizabeth came to the rescue, using a gentle tone. “Beethoven was strongly influenced by Mozart, thus the similarity in composition. I dare say he is a good addition to tonight’s performance. I am pleased.”
Huntington recovered, smiling widely. “Precisely the case! I believe I do have an ear for these things, recognizing Mozart’s influence in tonight’s selection.”
Elizabeth could not miss the withering look her sister gave her. Wilhelmina was not happy. Not at all.
But Huntington was. So, Elizabeth was successful.
She smiled at the rest of the group. “The first piece was a lovely introduction to all the other selections, but the final sonata feels like it should have been placed somewhere in the middle.”
Mr. Phillip agreed readily. “That’s what I thought, as well.”
“Did you think so, my lord?” Elizabeth asked, keeping her serene smile on her face. “I do wonder if you think that means the composer is leaving the story open for another performance in the near future. Or do you think it was a problem with inspiration?”
The gentleman was slightly flustered, tugging at his cravat, as he floundered for an answer, “Perhaps both.”
“Ah, you may be right, sir. You’ve managed to gauge the nuance in the music,” Elizabeth praised.
Lady Grisham’s face was a picture of shock, as she blinked as if the whole thing was merely a dream.
When Elizabeth turned to her stepmother, there was a begrudging look of approval on her face.
Alasdair watched the exchange from across the room, his arms folded loosely over his chest in what might’ve seemed like casual detachment. But there was nothing idle about his gaze.
His eyes tracked every movement: Lady Elizabeth’s confident posture, the way her sister held court with the young pups of the ton, even the calculating arch of Lady Grisham’s brow.
Aye, he looked still enough, but beneath it, tension coiled in his spine. He wasn’t just observing. He was measuring, marking… protecting. Though he’d never admit as much.
“You need to stop glowering,” Seth advised, truly relaxed as he swirled his brandy in his glass. “Do you even notice that you are?”
“Am I?” Alasdair asked, with a quirk of a brow.
“Oh, yes. You look like a guard dog about to attack.”
Alasdair merely grunted his response.
Seth followed his gaze, “So, it makes sense to me now. But then again, was there any other doubt?”
“What do ye mean by that?” Alasdair demanded.
“The murderous daggers shooting from your eyes are hard to miss, Redmoor. Let me guess: you’re puzzling over how Lady Elizabeth, formerly a wallflower of disaster, has transformed into a blooming siren mid-Season.
One minute she’s tripping over her own slippers, and the next she’s fluttering her lashes at Huntington and the others like she was born to break hearts. ”
“She’s nae doin’ such a thing,” the duke growled.
“Oh, but she did. You should have seen the way she looked at the young lord,” Seth teased.
“She’s only doin’ what she’s been told,” Alasdair replied, his jaw tight, shoulders stiff. “Lady Grisham has likely drilled it into her skull.”
“Ah,” Seth drawled, eyes still trained on Elizabeth.
“So, the dragon breathes fire and the little lamb dances to the tune. Except now, she looks like she’s turning into an enchantress.
” He clucked his tongue. “I must admit, I’m impressed.
A head tilt here, a laugh there… I nearly believed Phillips said something clever. ”
“He couldnae possibly,” Alasdair grunted, his stare fixed, unblinking.
Seth chuckled and took a slow sip of his drink.
“You’re sulking, Redmoor. Admit it. If she bats her lashes any harder, you’ll be swept away in the draft.
” Then, as if remembering something, Seth’s eyes lit with mischief.
“Speaking of dread and doom, the Dowager Countess of Rawley is in attendance tonight. And I do believe she’s been prowling the perimeter for a Highland duke to savage. ”
“We can let her prowl.”
“You’ve turned down most of everyone,” Seth reminded him. “Rawley has lands and, er, a fine pair of—”
“Not plannin’ on entertainin’ the ladies tonight,” Alasdair murmured, as his eyes looked for the same lady he had been staring at throughout the event.
“Not even wealthy ladies with grand estates and influence who also have an appreciation for the arts?”
The Duke of Redmoor merely let out a small grumble in response.
“Understood. Only Lady Elizabeth, then.”
“Keep yer voice down, ye lace-cuffed devil. She shouldnae ever be linked with me,” Alasdair stressed, giving his friend a sharp look.
Seth rolled his eyes at that, seemingly undeterred by Alasdair’s seriousness. “That ship has already sailed, and that’s not because of me, old sport. You’ve been watching her in a way that everyone would notice. Have you thought of that?”
Alasdair’s jaw tensed. “Nae.”
“If you don’t want anyone to know, then you should not be glowering at her like an avenging god every time some other man glances her way or breathes near her.”
It was good advice, but it seemed Alasdair had not been following most of Seth’s words as of late.
He looked back to the gathering of lords with the Grisham ladies. Elizabeth was still smiling. The younger lord, Huntington, was leaning toward her, and even some of the more sophisticated men were glancing at her with new approval.
Was she really enjoying the exchange?
Lady Elizabeth was dangerous when she was doing the right thing.
Yes, his student was doing well. Far too well.
And was learning far quicker than he’d expected.