“I am concerned for them both,” Elizabeth said honestly. “Nothing can come of this but disaster, surely.”
Lord Preston’s face was set in a deep frown. “Lord Wentworth seems certain of her match with Lord Kilby.”
“Kilby,” Elizabeth hissed. “He is a terrible choice for Lady Wentworth; even I can see that, and I barely know the man.”
“You are right,” Malcolm said softly, his heart aching for his cousin. “I do not understand the urgency for them to wed.”
“She has only just returned from three years away. Surely, she should be given more time to make her own choice?”
Malcolm sighed. “I do not believe my uncle wishes to wait. He has been hounding her on the topic for some weeks.”
Elizabeth looked close to tears as she watched the duke and Charlotte dancing.
“But look at them. I cannot be the only person in the room who sees how much they care for one another?”
“Indeed, you are not. But what is to be done?” Lord Preston’s fingers tightened around her hand. “We must focus on our own happiness and pray they find a way to theirs.”
Elizabeth smiled up at him, her own feelings fluttering through her once more at the future she might build with this man. Lord Preston was right; there was nothing she could do to influence her cousin’s path in life, but it was a frustrating truth that they should be so divided when their regard for one another was so clear.
Meanwhile, two pairs of eyes watched the duke keenly as the Norwells observed his persistent attachment to the Wentworth chit. Lady Norwell kept close to her daughter, calculating her next move to ensure that the duke’s attentions were diverted.
“Whatever does he see in her?” Lavinia muttered for her mother’s ears alone. “I have spent much time in her company, and all she speaks of is books and poetry. It is beyond reason that he should choose her.”
“He has done nothing of the sort,” Lady Norwell said emphatically. “A dance is a polite exchange based on obligation. Everyone knows Kilby is her match, and it will not be long before she is removed from the picture altogether. Do not despair, my love; your time will come.”
Lavinia’s back straightened at her words, and she watched the duke with renewed determination. Her eyes shifted to Lord Kilby, who was standing across the floor beside Lady Wentworth’s father. He had a jovial smile on his face and looked utterly oblivious to the rising tension between the duke and Lady Wentworth. But no matter, Lavinia intended to make her intentions very clear once their marriage had been agreed—and it could only be a matter of time.
Slowly, the dance came to an end, and with it, a murmuring began.
Colin released Lady Wentworth, noticing several eyes were upon them. He stood taller, unwilling to apologize merely for dancing with the lady. He had every right to do so; Kilby had no claim on her yet, and if Colin could prevent it, he would.
He frowned. The whispers did not seem to be in that vein now he came to listen to them. Taking Lady Wentworth’s hand, he led her out of the crowd, and as he heard one of the conversations beside him, his blood ran cold in his veins.
“It is said the late duke was compromised, that his fortune is in doubt…”
“It is grave news indeed, we have heard he lost hundreds of pounds from his investors, perhaps thousands…”
Colin kept his head held high even as his heart thundered in his chest. He felt too hot suddenly as the whispers continued onall sides. The ghosts of his past and the scandal he had tried so hard to hide were finally coming back to haunt him.
Lady Wentworth looked up at him, her gaze questioning.
“What is happening?” she asked quietly, and Colin realized belatedly that they were standing motionless in the centre of a crowd, her hand still held in his. Reluctantly, he pulled away, looking about him.
“I do not know,” he said softly, hoping that she believed him and allowing the mask to fall firmly back in place. He could not afford to show any weakness, not here.
Many of his guests were investors who had worked with his father. As he looked about him, several of them were notably absent. Colin’s jaw clenched at the possibility that someone had spread the rumours deliberately at the gathering his mother was holding.
Mama.
He turned on the spot to locate the dowager duchess, but she was conversing with several older ladies at the other side of the room and seemed oblivious to the storm slowly building around him.
He turned to Lady Wentworth grimly. Her beautiful face was all confusion, and for the second time in so many days, Colin held back the urge to pull her into his arms and never let her go.
“I spoke of duty and responsibility, Lady Wentworth. We are slaves to both, are we not?”
She frowned, her eyes flitting about uncertainly, but there was understanding in them, too. “Indeed, your Grace.”
He bowed to her and moved away through the room, leaving Charlotte alone. She glanced about her to see Malcolm and Lady Elizabeth returning from the dance floor. Elizabeth smiled warmly at her, and she went to join them, still uncertain what had been communicated and what was troubling the duke.
