Elizabeth set down her spoon. She hesitated, then leaned forward, lowering her voice. “There is more to it than everyone thinks.”
The duchess lifted a brow. “Oh?”
Elizabeth swallowed. “There was another shooter.”
The duchess blinked. Then she laughed lightly, shaking her head. “My dear, such rumors—”
“It is not a rumor. I saw it with my own eyes.”
The duchess stilled. “To say such a thing,” she mused, studying Elizabeth’s face, “one would have to have been in the House of Commons, but I recall perfectly that you were with Charlotte in the Ladies’ Gallery yesterday.”
Elizabeth inhaled slowly. “I slipped away.”
The duchess’s fingers tightened slightly around her teacup. “You were there?”
Elizabeth nodded. “I was in an alcove. Behind a support column. I knew I should not have been there, so I kept hidden. Charlotte knew—I left her in the Ladies’ Gallery. She was the only one who knew where I had gone.”
A flicker of something crossed the duchess’s face—a reaction quickly masked.
“And I was not alone. The real shooter was hidden there as well. I saw him fire. And he—” She swallowed. “He sawme.”
The duchess said nothing at first, merely studying Elizabeth with the sharp, searching gaze of a woman who had learned to sift truth from fiction. Elizabeth braced herself for disbelief.
And at first, she got it.
Her Grace sighed, shaking her head. “Elizabeth, my dear, I am sure—”
”Iknowwhat I saw.”
The duchess opened her mouth, likely to utter some soothing dismissal, but then—she again studied Elizabeth’s face. The fear in her eyes. The lingering pallor in her cheeks.
The duchess set down her tea. “You truly believe this.”
Elizabeth let out a shaky breath. “I do not need tobelieveit. Iknowit. They arrested the wrong man.”
The duchess exhaled slowly, folding her hands in her lap. “Well. Something must be done.”
Elizabeth blinked. “What?”
“Do you think I would sit here and allow you to be hunted?” The duchess scoffed. “Really, Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth let out a breathless laugh—a nervous, unsteady thing. “I suppose,” she said, attempting lightness, “that I might be in some trouble over having gone to the House of Commons alone, if it were spread abroad. But otherwise, it is unlikely the man could even know who I am. I am probably quite safe.” Yes, if she repeated that enough times, she would persuade herself of it.
It did not work.
The duchess studied her for a long moment before shaking her head.
“No, my dear,” she said softly. “You are not.”
Elizabeth swallowed.
The duchess straightened, smoothing her skirts. “My husband the duke has the Prince Regent’s ear. I shall see that you are heard. And protected, if necessary.”
Elizabeth swallowed. “How?”
“That, dear girl,” the duchess said, rising gracefully to her feet, “is a matter for the Prince of Wales to decide.”
She turned toward the door.
