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“Then what’s wrong?” Susan asked in a gentle whisper.
“Susan, he hasn’t two coins to rub together! He’s an estate manager!”
“But couldn’t you be happy with a simple life?”
“Of course I could,” Elizabeth snapped. “But what about Lucas’s education? And your debut? And Jane’s watercolors? Haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve said this last week? Did you think I was looking for a husband for the fun of it? We need money, Susan. Money.”
Susan couldn’t even bring herself to look into her sister’s eyes. “I’m sorry if you feel you have to sacrifice yourself.”
“The funny part is, I didn’t think it was such a sacrifice. Lots of women marry men they don’t love. But now…” She paused and wiped her eyes. “Now it’s just hard. That’s all it is. Hard.”
Susan swallowed and softly said, “Maybe you should return the book.”
Elizabeth nodded. “I’ll do it tomorrow.”
“We can—we can decide how to proceed later. I’m sure you can find a husband without having to practice on—”
Elizabeth held up a hand. “Let’s not talk about it now.”
Susan nodded, then smiled weakly as she held up the book. “I’ll just go dust this off. You can return it tomorrow.”
Elizabeth didn’t move as she watched her sister leave the room. Then she crawled onto her bed and started to cry. But this time she held the pillow over her head, muffling the sounds of her sobs.
The last thing she wanted was more sympathy.
Chapter 8
Elizabeth arrived at Danbury House earlier than usual the following morning, hoping to sneak into the library and replace the book before Lady Danbury finished breaking her fast. All she wanted was to get the dratted thing out of her sight and out of her possession forever.
She had played out the scene in her mind a hundred times. She would slide HOW TO MARRY A MARQUIS back onto the bookshelf and shut the library door firmly behind her. And that, she prayed, would be that.
“You have caused me nothing but grief,” she whispered into her satchel.
Dear Lord, she was turning into the veriest idiot. She was talking to a book. A book! It didn’t have any powers, it wasn’t going to change her life, and it certainly wasn’t going to answer her when she was stupid enough to send words in its direction.
It was just a book. An inanimate object. The only power it held was what she chose to give it. It could only be important in her life if she made it such.
Of course, that didn’t explain why she half expected it to glow in the dark every time she peered into her satchel.
She tiptoed down the hall, for once in her life blessedly thankful for Lady Danbury’s firm adherence to routine. The countess would be about one-quarter of the way through breakfast right now, which meant that Elizabeth would have at least twenty more minutes before her employer appeared in the drawing room.
Two minutes to slip the book back into the library, and eighteen to calm herself down.
Elizabeth had her hand in her satchel and was clutching the book as she rounded the corner. The library door was ajar. Perfect. The less noise she made, the less likely it would be that anyone would stumble upon her. Not that there was much activity in this part of the house before Lady D finished her breakfast, but still, one couldn’t be too careful.
She slid sideways through the door’s opening, her gaze firmly fixed on the shelf where she’d found the book earlier that week. All she had to do was cross the room, put the book back, and leave. No detours, no unnecessary stops.
She pulled the book out, her eyes focused on the shelf. Two more steps, and—
“Good morning, Elizabeth.”
She screamed.
James drew back slightly in surprise. “My deepest apologies for startling you.”
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“You’re shaking,” he said in a concerned voice. “I really did startle you, didn’t I?”
