Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Elizabeth was still catching her breath, her body trembling with aftershocks. The fabric of her gown clung damply to her overheated skin, sticking at her back and chest, her thighs slick with evidence of her ruin. Or near-ruin.
For a moment, she didn’t care.
The heavy silence of the library wrapped around her like a cocoon, and she let herself fall into it, eyes closed, lips still parted from the echo of his mouth.
She had just let the Duke of Redmoor kneel before her, worship her like a goddess, devour her like a delicacy.
She had moaned his name.
She had begged.
And now, her world was no longer the same.
But the sharp sound of footsteps beyond the door shattered her fragile peace.
Instinct took over. Her hands fumbled to fix her bodice, trembling fingers tucking one breast back into place. Her skirts had ridden up to her knees—
Heavens, her thighs were still damp. She couldn’t breathe.
Alasdair moved beside her, surprisingly calm. With deft fingers, he helped her smooth her dress, gently tugged the wrinkled fabric at her shoulders, and even tucked back a stray curl behind her ear. His touch was reverent still, like he couldn’t believe she was real.
“Beautiful, my lass,” he murmured, his lips brushing her temple.
It nearly undid her again. A whimper rose in her throat, but she bit it back. She couldn’t afford softness now.
She forced herself to stand straighter, wiping her damp palms on her skirts. Every nerve felt raw and exposed.
There was a knock.
Elizabeth froze.
“Ye’ll be fine, lass,” Alasdair said, his voice calm and low, but his green eyes glittered with possessiveness. “Look at ye, still as bonnie as ever. Like nae Scotsman ever ravished ye with his mouth in a darkened room.”
“Are you there, Elizabeth?” came a voice from the other side. Her stepmother. Sharp. Suspicious. “I knew you’d be hiding again. Come and talk to some lords who have been asking after you.”
“Coming!” Elizabeth squeaked, her voice higher than usual.
She glanced at Alasdair, who had already disappeared into the shadows, finding a nook behind the tall shelves. Then she opened the door with forced composure, stepping into the hall.
Lady Grisham’s gaze was cutting. “So, you were there all along?”
Elizabeth said nothing, but her face was a little too flushed, her breathing not quite as even as it should be.
“You know we can’t waste time. Not anymore.”
Elizabeth said nothing, but her heart twisted. She knew what that meant.
Their time was running out.
There was the cruel truth: her stepmother, strategic and exacting, was eager to erase every trace of their father’s first marriage.
Marianne, Elizabeth, Daniel.
Even the twins, though technically hers, didn’t seem to be spared her calculated plans. Elizabeth was only useful now if she married well. Quickly.
She nodded stiffly. “I’m here now. I’m ready.”
That was the lie of the century.
In truth, she could still feel Alasdair’s tongue and his fingers between her thighs. Still taste his name on her lips. Her entire body was alive in a way she’d never imagined. Her nipples were still tight, aching against the fabric of her dress.
The idea that Lady Grisham—or anyone—might have stumbled in a moment earlier turned her stomach with a mixture of dread and shame.
It could never happen again. She couldn’t let it.
She wouldn’t survive it if it did.
“I see you’re back to hiding from the ton now, Elizabeth,” Lady Grisham remarked the next morning, her tone sugar-laced with criticism.
They were in the drawing room, the windows thrown wide to let in the weak morning sun. Elizabeth had taken her tea to her bedroom, pleading yet another headache. It wasn’t a complete lie. Her mind was a storm.
“You were doing so well,” Lady Grisham continued. “Attracting lords of all kinds and ages. People have been talking about how beautiful you are. How intelligent. Do you know what a rare combination that is?”
Elizabeth didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her mind kept flashing back to the library. The feel of his mouth. The sound of his voice when he’d whispered, Let me worship you. Her entire body heated at the memory.
“I truly think I won’t be able to converse with said lords properly when I am not well,” she said at last, lying flat on her stomach in her room.
Her pillows were stacked high, her face turned to the side, cool fabric brushing her cheek.
Lady Grisham lingered in the doorway, watching her with a narrowed gaze.
“Mmm. A touch of illness here and there to avoid the crowd? You are getting good at it, Elizabeth.” Her voice was light, but there was an edge under it. “Could it be something worse?”
Elizabeth stiffened. “It’s nothing more than a headache. However, I know I won’t be contributing to any meaningful conversation when my temples are pounding, and my eyes can barely tolerate light.”
Lady Grisham stepped inside. She carried a teacup with practiced care, adding sugar with calm deliberation—Elizabeth’s usual preference, of course. Always playing the attentive hostess, even in moments of disapproval.
“I find it rather convenient,” she said, handing over the tea. “That these headaches strike on the very nights we have engagements. Balls. Suppers. Parties with important guests.”
Wilhelmina stood at the foot of the bed, looking uncomfortable, her arms folded tightly across her waist.
“Mother, please,” she pleaded, “it’s obvious she’s poorly.”
Lady Grisham didn’t even spare her a glance.
Elizabeth took the cup but didn’t drink. Her blush had returned, crawling up her neck and into her cheeks.
“I’ve only missed two engagements,” she mumbled.
“This is the third,” Lady Grisham corrected.
“Three, then.”
“Precisely. Several. Especially for someone who made such a spectacular impression the last time she appeared. You were a triumph. And now? You’re letting it go to waste.”
“Mother, will you leave Lizzie in peace for one moment? Just one moment without pestering her about the marriage mart?” Wilhelmina huffed, her brows knitted.
Lady Grisham glared at her. “Everything I say and do is for your benefit, child.”
Elizabeth clutched her teacup tightly, willing her voice not to shake. She knew what her stepmother was suggesting without saying it aloud. She knew how the ton could speculate. A lady disappears after a flirtation too bold, and everyone imagines the worst.
And the worst wasn’t far from the truth.
She wasn’t ruined: from what Marianne had told her about the marriage bed, what Alasdair had done to her didn’t mean Elizabeth was ruined.
Not yet.
She wasn’t untouched, either. That knowledge throbbed inside her like a second pulse.
“Well, my benefit now pertains to you leaving my sister alone,” Wilhelmina snapped back, “Mother.”
“I will not tolerate such impertinence from you, Wilhelmina. I am warning—”
“I understand, Lady Grisham,” Elizabeth interjected evenly. “I’ll do my best to recover in time for the next event.”
Lady Grisham sighed, the sound almost disappointed. She left the room without saying another word, but her message had been clear.
“Are you all right?” Wilhelmina edged closer.
“Yes, yes. Please don’t create tension between you and your mother just for me.”
“You were the one that’s been by my side, Lizzie. Not her. So no, I won’t let her put you down like this.”
Elizabeth sighed. “I love you, too.” It was all she could say.
Wilhelmina leaned down and hugged her tightly.
Heavens, she needed this. But Wilhelmina was an innocent, and Elizabeth didn’t need to bring her down with her problems.
“Now go, darling. I’m sure your mother will return to collect you,” Elizabeth said.
Wilhelmina sighed, “You lucky little fairy. I’ll have to come up with a new kind of excuse to get out of such idiotic conventions.”
“I am sure whatever you do come up with shall be creative, sister.”
Wilhelmina flashed her a smile and kissed her cheek, “Feel better soon, Lizzie.”
“Thank you,” she replied and her sister walked out of the room.
Now alone, Elizabeth lay still for a long moment.
Her tea sat untouched. Her fingers curled tightly around the cup, heart pounding as she stared at the faint pattern on the coverlet.
She would have to face him again at some point.
Alasdair.
She didn’t know if she’d survive it.
That evening, Elizabeth crept down the hall to visit her younger sisters. She needed comfort. Sanity. Something to tether her to the girl she used to be—before whispered invitations and kisses in shadowed rooms threatened to unravel her entirely.
Daphne and Victoria were on the floor, cross-legged, playing a game of cards. They were mid-argument, as usual.
“You can’t play that!” Daphne said with a sigh. “That’s not how it works.”
“Says who?” Victoria challenged, her tone triumphant as she slammed down another card. “The rules are made up anyway. This makes it more interesting.”
“You make everything chaotic,” Daphne muttered, though not unkindly.
At the sound of a soft step in the doorway, Victoria’s head turned.
“Lizzie!” she cried, leaping to her feet.
Elizabeth opened her arms instinctively, and Victoria ran straight into them, wrapping her arms tightly around her waist.
“My wild little fox,” Elizabeth murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple.
Daphne followed, slower but no less warm, and hugged them both. “You’re warm,” she observed, frowning. “You look… tired.”
“I am tired,” Elizabeth admitted, stroking Daphne’s soft, honey-colored hair. “But I’m better now.”
Victoria leaned back to look up at her. “You haven’t been at supper lately. Or at any of the parties. Are you hiding again?”
“Vicky,” Daphne warned gently, but Elizabeth raised a hand to stop her.
“It’s all right,” she said softly. “I suppose I am hiding a little.”
“You shouldn’t,” Victoria said firmly. “They’re all dull without you. And Wilhelmina said a viscount brought you cake.”
“That was days ago,” Elizabeth said with a wan smile.
“But the garden party is coming up,” Daphne added, glancing up. “Will you go to that one? I heard they’ve hired musicians, and there’ll be lemonade and ices.”
Elizabeth hesitated. Her hands were still resting on their shoulders, but her eyes drifted to the window, to the soft night pressing against the glass. She felt as if she were caught between two selves: the girl they saw, and the woman she was becoming. Or already was.
“Yes,” she said at last. “I think I must.”
Victoria narrowed her eyes. “That doesn’t sound like a yes.”
“It is. It’s just… not an eager one.” Elizabeth smiled faintly.
“You used to like garden parties,” Daphne said quietly. “You always said they were peaceful. You liked watching people more than talking to them.”
“I still do,” Elizabeth murmured. “But sometimes it’s harder now.”
“Because of the lords?” Victoria asked bluntly.
Elizabeth blinked. “What?”
“You know. Them staring at you like they’re trying to guess your price.”
“Victoria!” Daphne gasped, horrified.
“What? It’s true,” Victoria huffed. “Men think they’re shopping. You don’t like being stared at, Lizzie. You always get that look, like you want to vanish.”
Elizabeth didn’t reply right away. She was too startled by how closely Victoria had seen through her. She gave a soft laugh, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“I’ve always wanted to vanish,” she admitted quietly. “At least… in the events of the ton.”
Daphne looked heartbroken. “But they all liked you, Lizzie. Mina told us they said you were clever. Kind.”
“Maybe,” Elizabeth said. “But that doesn’t mean I’m ready for what they want. Or what they assume.”
There was a silence. Then, Victoria crossed her arms, her voice soft but fierce.
“Then don’t let them have you, Lizzie. You don’t owe anyone a smile. Not even Mother.”
“Vicky…” Elizabeth exhaled, moved more than she could say.
“She’s right,” Daphne added. “You shouldn’t go if it hurts you.”
“It’s not that simple,” Elizabeth said, smoothing a curl from Daphne’s cheek. “But I promise, I’ll try to smile. Not because I must, but because I want to.”
Victoria gave a skeptical little grunt. “Well, if anyone gives you trouble, I’ll bite them.”
“Vicky!” Daphne laughed in spite of herself.
Elizabeth laughed, too, really laughed this time, and the weight in her chest eased for just a moment.
She pulled them both close again, arms tightening around their small, familiar bodies. Their innocence didn’t make her feel childish. It made her feel whole.
“I’ll be there,” she said again. “And I’ll try.”
She didn’t say anything about Alasdair. She didn’t have to.
She just hoped her heart wouldn’t betray her when she saw him again.