Chapter 7 Sensational Revelation #5
Thus, between listening to Georgiana’s effusive praise of the organ music and the warmth of her emotions, Lizzy did not hear the shout of her future husband’s name.
Rather, it was his unexpected halting and pivot about—her hand losing contact with his arm in the process—which alerted her to anything.
Pressing a hand to Georgiana’s arm in silent communication, she peeked from behind William’s back just as a rotund, older gentleman boomed out, “Darcy! Well met, indeed! I was hoping to see you here! Based on your high breeding standards and promises, I will be placing a hefty bet on Bathsheba Fire to win at Newmarket. I best not be disappointed!”
From her partially hidden vantage point, Lizzy observed Darcy inclining his head respectfully.
Then, in a warm tone edged with humor, he greeted, “Good Sunday to you, Lord Westingcote. I have the utmost confidence in Bathsheba Fire. She is an excellent filly. However, you know as well as I that one can never promise how a race will end. If it is some assurance, I intend to wager a substantial sum upon her myself, so we shall both face the outcome, whether grievous or celebratory, together.”
Lizzy instantly remembered Lord Westingcote from their dinner conversation the previous night about the Jockey Club and flying pigs, the name recognition causing her to speculate if the distinguished gentleman walking a step behind the generous-bodied lord was the banner-obsessed Mr. Shelley. What a coincidence that would be!
The unidentified second gentleman, whoever he was, wore an amused grin.
In a timbre almost as resonant as Darcy’s and with matching warmth, the dignified man bobbed his head toward Lord Westingcote as he warned, “Don’t let him play upon your pity, Darcy.
The old schemer will place more than one bet at the Newmarket races, increasing the odds for a winning day in the end. ”
“Your Grace.” Darcy bowed deeply, his bearing and reverent inflection announced the speaker’s elevated rank even if Lizzy had not caught the term of address.
“The information is appreciated, although I suspected as much, largely because I will do the same. Besides, Lord Westingcote is not unique in spreading bets, now is he, Your Grace? I’ve yet to attend a horse race where you have not done the same, even in the same race. ”
The duke shrugged, his smile broad. “It is prudent to spread one’s wagers far and wide. A lesson I taught you long ago, my boy!”
Based on the casual teasing and social reference, the nameless duke and her fiancé were well acquainted. It was so unexpected Lizzy barely stifled an involuntary squawk of amazement and was thankful her position behind Mr. Darcy concealed her dumbfounded expression.
An actual duke! Despite William’s elevated position in society and kinship to an earl, the possibility of standing face to face with the highest-ranking peer of the realm, one of a handful of titled dukes currently in all of England, had never crossed her mind. It was staggering.
Thankfully, Lord Westingcote’s boisterous laugh jerked her back into awareness before she succumbed to the nervous flutters threatening to burst forth.
She had no idea what had been said to create such hilarity, but Darcy and the duke joined in the rollicking chortles so it must have been a riot.
Clapping a big hand onto Darcy’s shoulder, Lord Westingcote declared, “Excellent news, Darcy! I am delighted you can attend the races and insist you join us. You have room in the box for another, do you not, Your Grace?”
“Absolutely. There is always room for Darcy of Pemberley. We can celebrate Bathsheba Fire’s win together. I will not take no for an answer, Darcy. You know where it is after all,” he finished drily.
At his lordship’s zealous hand gesture, Lizzy gingerly hopped to the right, instinctively avoiding his hand connecting with her face. No longer shielded by Darcy’s broad shoulders and height, her view of the scene improved, while also revealing to the men that Mr. Darcy was not alone.
Two sets of eyes swiveled her direction, the appraising sweep head to toe—as men typically did when first encountering a woman—swift and thorough.
Determined not to flinch or glance away, she endured the assessment, even managing to smile.
The unnerving, sharp gaze of the duke rested upon her for several seconds before he shifted his focus to Georgiana, who stood in bashful silence a foot or so to Lizzy’s left.
Exhaling in the momentary respite, she peripherally took note of the two women near Lord Westingcote.
Neither appeared to be paying any attention to the conversation on horse racing, so she paid them scant heed.
Besides, the duke was talking, his firm baritone as captivating as his physical presence.
“Ah! I see you are not alone today, Mr. Darcy. Neither are we, as it happens. Our preoccupation with horses derailed properly attending to our venerate ladies. Ignoring such loveliness borders on being unpardonable.” Maintaining eye contact with Lizzy, the duke pressed his right hand over his heart and inclined his head.
“Please accept my sincere apology. May I be so bold as to request introductions, Darcy?”
“Forgive my lapse in manners, Your Grace. The fault is entirely mine.” Beaming, Darcy turned toward Lizzy and Georgiana.
“Ladies, it is my pleasure and honor to present His Grace the Duke of Grafton, the Viscount and Viscountess Westingcote, and their esteemed daughter, Miss Pratt. Sirs and madams, my sister, Miss Darcy, and my betrothed, Miss Bennet of Longbourn in Hertfordshire.”
The standard greetings ensued, accompanied by the befitting head bobs and curtsies.
Lizzy noticed that Lady Westingcote and Miss Pratt’s air of indifference only disappeared at the mention of her name, a bewildering oddity she shrugged away.
Of much greater interest to her were the effervescent viscount and the charming duke, both of whom were quite loquacious.
“Miss Darcy, I suppose you hear it frequently, but you uncannily resemble your honorable mother, the Lady Anne. She was a remarkable lady and is greatly missed by those fortunate to have known her.”
The Duke of Grafton’s sincere testimonial touched Lizzy, as it did the shy Georgiana, who murmured, “Your Grace is most kind.”
The Duke directed his attention to Lizzy, undoubtedly to Georgiana’s immense relief.
The Duke of Grafton was handsome for an older gentleman, and his face kind and smile warm.
There was an aura of power emanating from him unlike anything she had ever felt, and his eyes seemed to pierce into her soul.
For one of the few times in her life, she experienced profound awe and bashfulness, suddenly empathizing with her soon-to-be sister.
“Miss Bennet, a pleasure to meet you and to hear of Mr. Darcy’s engagement.
I now comprehend why he was distracted to the point of forgetting a Pemberley thoroughbred was racing at Newmarket this week.
Causing a man as focused as Darcy into forgetfulness, particularly regarding horses, is a feat only a woman of unique qualities could manage. Well done, madam!”
“Thank you, Your Grace. I shall accept the compliment.” Lizzy jauntily bobbed a curtsy, her smile impish.
The gestures, forced a bit, helped overcome her timidity.
“I do pray, however, that no one at the Jockey Club was overly disturbed by Mr. Darcy’s unusual behavior.
One can only imagine the speculations wildly running amok. ”
The duke chuckled. “Here is a secret and a warning, Miss Bennet. When men are chattering about horses and racing, they pay little attention to anything or anyone else. Something to bear in mind after you are married.”
“I shall tuck that information safely away, sir. Thank you.”
The bantering was cut short by the appearance of two new horse enthusiasts. Properly introduced to Lizzy and Georgiana, Lord Ailes-Combe and Mr. Crannick offering nothing beyond the formalities before launching into an intense discussion about, naturally, the upcoming races.
Half-amused and half-peeved, Lizzy muttered, “I see what the duke meant. We have apparently become invisible.”
Georgiana squeezed her hand reassuringly.
“I can’t lie and tell you William isn’t passionate about his thoroughbreds to the point of obsession.
I have suddenly become invisible a number of times, but it never lasts too long.
Besides, he now has you in his life, and trust me, Miss Elizabeth, he is far more passionate about you. ”
Blushing, she squeezed Georgiana’s hand gratefully, the reassuring words flooding her with contentment. Unfortunately, seconds later the happy sensations were doused.
“So, this is the Miss Bennet we have heard so much about.”
Lizzy jerked her eyes toward Lady Westingcote and Miss Pratt, unsure which woman had spoken.
After the initial introductions neither had added a single syllable to the conversation and aside from the eerie sensation of disapproving scrutiny, Lizzy had almost forgotten they were there.
Being directly addressed was surprising.
Stranger still was the comment itself, but most bewildering of all was how the women were looking at her.
The Viscountess Westingcote wore an expression of thinly veiled distaste, her dark eyes hard and lips pinched.
It brought to Lizzy’s mind how one reacted to a noxious smell, repulsed but striving to control the reflexive retch.
Miss Pratt made no attempt to conceal her dislike, or she was a pathetically mediocre actress.
Lizzy could not imagine peering at a filthy street beggar with such repulsion, yet there was an underlying glint of grotesque delight within the young woman’s brown eyes.