Chapter 6 #2
She didn’t know if it would make her happy, but perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. Surely any woman in the kingdom would be overjoyed at the prospect of elevating her family and living in such luxury.
The housekeeper showed them to their guest chambers, and they were left to explore their rooms. The extravagance of the outside of the manor was matched within, and her mother gushed over oil-paintings framed in gold, and masterfully crafted marble busts that stood in both of the adjoining rooms. Elizabeth studied a bust carved of a handsome man in the chamber she was given.
Her eyes flicked to the plaque at the bottom.
Duke Howard’s father. She narrowed her gaze in suspicion as she took in the chiseled jawline—either Duke Howard’s mother had been rather unfortunate looking or the artist had taken certain liberties with the sculpture.
With the ball set to begin in just a few hours, their maids and her father’s manservant unpacked their belongings and helped them get ready.
Elizabeth suffered through her maid making her look fit to capture the duke’s heart.
Between painstaking hours spent on her hair and makeup, and her mother hovering, commenting, and tutting from behind, she started to grow irritated.
Had she not already agreed to the match?
What use was there in dressing her up more than usual, and making her feel like a pig being led to slaughter?
Her maid slicked her hair back and swept it up into an updo secured with silver hairpins. It was regal and severe looking, as if she was not allowed to wear the plaited hairstyles of youth anymore. Elizabeth preferred the messy braid it had been in all day.
She eyed the diamond necklace her maid draped over her collarbone. Perhaps the membership to such a family was not without price.
She bit her lip, and an image of Caspian’s hellish eyes flitted in her mind.
He would have already left Briarton by now. Perhaps that too, was for the best.
Her maid raised her brows, waiting.
Wanting to roll her eyes, Elizabeth released her lower lip, and allowed her maid to paint her lips a cool toned pink.
The neckline of her lavender gown was more promiscuous than she would have liked, the tightly laced corset squeezing her ribs and forcing her cleavage upwards.
The skirts had many heavy layers and she knew it would be heavy to walk in.
Duke Howard would be pleased—the dress looked remarkably difficult to run away in.
Lavender pearls dotted her ears and encircled her wrists.
She looked every inch the lady of a proud noble house.
A knock sounded at the door, and Elizabeth’s mother opened it to admit Charlotte, followed by Lord and Lady Harrison. Charlotte ran to her and gave her a quick hug while their parents exchanged pleasantries.
“We missed you on the trip south,” Elizabeth said, smiling warmly.
Charlotte chuckled. “Yes, Mother and Father seemed to not want to intrude on you and your betrothed tonight. We are staying at an inn in Ambrosia for the night.” Lord Harrison frowned, looking tired, and Charlotte snickered, “My father couldn’t get out of the ball this time, my mother insisted he accompany us. ”
Elizabeth chuckled. Lord Harrison was renowned for his dislike of court functions, and at balls often hid himself among the gentlemen, letting his wife do most of the socializing for their family.
Another knock echoed across the chamber, and a servant dressed in white entered the room and bowed. “Lords. Ladies. If you please follow me.” Charlotte and Elizabeth exchanged a look, and she followed her parents down halls decorated in cream tapestries bearing red archers.
Once it was Elizabeth’s turn to be presented, she noted that many members of the high nobility were in attendance tonight. Of course, the queen never left her palace in Calyx, but nearly everyone else was here to offer their congratulations to her and Duke Howard.
Everyone’s head turned when she entered, and she held her head high as she felt a hundred pairs of eyes on her.
Her eyes lit on Duke Howard, who watched her arrival with a smug expression. Her father stood beside the duke, smiling, a betrayal in itself.
She presented herself before the duke and sank into a low curtsey. “Duke Howard.”
Duke Howard bowed, his gaze resting on her cleavage, and offered his hand. “Lady Elizabeth, you look marvelous in that dress.”
She placed her hand in his, restraining her grimace as he kissed her knuckles.
Duke Howard gave her an oily smile and placed a hand at the small of her back. The feeling of him touching her made her skin crawl. She itched to swipe his hand away, but she forced her hands to stay limp at her sides.
High and lesser nobles made their way towards them, offering pleasantries and honeyed words. Duke Howard accepted their congratulations with cheer, and she tried to say as little as possible.
When Duke Howard and her parents left to mingle with the other guests, Charlotte came to join her. Charlotte’s solid presence at her side kept her grounded to reality as others came over to offer their congratulations.
Lady Patricia and Lady Lorine glided over to them, giggling.
“I hear congratulations are in order, darling sister,” simpered Lady Patricia.
“Thank you,” Elizabeth said stiffly.
“I can’t imagine you’ll have to sleep with that old bag of bones. Perhaps, old men are your type?” Lady Lorine teased.
Lady Patricia laughed, a high delicate sound. “Whoever knew you were so desperate in your quest for a husband.”
Elizabeth smiled politely. Inwardly, she felt herself crumble.
“As if you didn’t see the outrageous wealth and comforts of the Howard manor,” Charlotte snapped, waving a dismissive hand at the manor around them. “She will be the wealthiest woman of all of us by far,” Charlotte said sharply. “Perhaps if you are so lucky, the duke has a younger cousin.”
Lady Lorine bobbed into a curtsey. “Meaning no offense, of course. Come on, Patricia, let's go.”
Elizabeth shot Charlotte a grateful smile.
Soon, Charlotte left to dance with young gentlemen, and Elizabeth stood alone. She swallowed, heart hurting.
So, this was to be her life, then.
The walls and rooms were extravagant; drapery and oil-paintings hung everywhere boasted images of red roses and florals. She would certainly be a wealthy woman here, but at what cost?
Towards the end of the evening, when the guests had started to leave and the musicians began to play slower songs, the duke asked her to have a goblet of wine with him by the fire. He barked at one of his servants to chaperone for them and led the way.
Her mother glanced at the two of them leaving the ballroom, trailed by a serving girl, and waved them off with a smile.
The duke led her by the hand to a sofa, where she sat primly. She swirled her goblet of wine and took a sip, waiting for him to speak.
“You look lovely tonight,” Duke Howard said, choosing to sit entirely too close to her, and addressing the words to her décolletage.
“Thank you,” she said stiffly.
His gaze jerked up to her face, as if he forgot she was there.
“I hear that you like to hunt, Duke Howard,” she began awkwardly. “Perhaps you would tell me more.”
His breathing grew heavier as he shifted even closer. His ruddy skin glistened with sweat, and thin strands of hair lay plastered across his shiny scalp. “Hunting—yes, I go hunting. Nothing, I’m sure, you would be interested in. It’s a gentleman’s sport.”
“Perhaps,” she said, taking another brave stab at conversation. “Perhaps you could tell me more of your interests, so that we might become better acquainted?”
“Why? Is there something in particular that you want to talk about?”
“Er.”
His weathered hand slid across the cushion to grasp hers, his thumb stroking her palm in a possessive gesture.
Elizabeth pressed herself against the arm of the sofa, but there was nowhere to retreat.
Before she could politely extract herself, he leaned in, the sour scent of wine on his breath making her stomach turn.
Duke Howard kissed her, and shock paralyzed her as he forced his tongue into her mouth. His tongue was slimy, his kiss slobbery. He groped her breast. The violation jolted her into action, and she stood swiftly. “What are you doing, your Grace? We are not wed yet.”
“I see how you want me. Wearing that.” His gaze flicked pointedly up and down her figure. “Let us not deny ourselves any longer.”
She took a couple of steps back, her nostrils flaring. “I confess that I’m uncomfortable with your directness. Perhaps we should rejoin the others.”
His eyes darkened with anger at her rejection, and he strode to her. He kissed her roughly again and without skill, his saliva painted lips feeling like a violation against her skin. Her lips were still against his onslaught as he tried to force her mouth open.
She turned her head from him, leaving his lips to land without purchase on her cheek.
She stood tall and raised her chin. “Are you quite finished?” she asked icily.
“Lady Elizabeth, I had no idea you were so cold,” he said, his thin lips peeling back from his teeth in a leer.
“You there,” he barked at his serving girl. The serving girl bowed her head and looked at her shoes in subservience.
His message could not be clearer—she would find no allies here.
Duke Howard grabbed Elizabeth by the hair and wrenched her face towards him, denying her an escape. She met his gaze unflinchingly—even as the pain in her scalp made her eyes water—and lifted her chin in challenge. “I think it is time for me to leave,” Elizabeth said loudly.
He tightened his grip on her hair and pushed her up against a wall.
Enough was enough.