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CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN
Elizabeth blinked in surprise while Rhys rose from his seat. “What are you doing here?” he asked the Dowager, whose hawkish gaze was on Elizabeth.
Rhys’ grandmother had ruined a beautiful moment between Elizabeth and Rhys. He had apologized to her, been most attentive, and had been about to kiss her, for heaven’s sake! She ground her teeth and tried to compose herself.
“I could not stay in London,” the Dowager answered. “I was not safe there.”
“You were safe in Guildford Manor, Grandmother,” Rhys countered. “The mob wanted Elizabeth and me, not you.”
The Dowager adjusted her shawl about her shoulders and raised her chin. “I am here now.”
Elizabeth decided to greet her then and stood. “You are welcome, My Lady,” she greeted with a small, stiff smile. The Dowager inclined her head and then approached the table. The footmen that Elizabeth and Rhys had forgotten about a moment ago quickly set a plate for her, and she sat down, draining the air from the room.
Rhys shook his head and sat after Elizabeth had retaken her seat. He leaned close to her and whispered. “It might be easier if you pretend she is not here.”
Elizabeth smiled at him. “I wish I could.” She hoped she was not the Dowager’s target this evening.
When the food was served, the Dowager scrunched her face. “I am not fond of lobster, and Cook knows that.”
Rhys set down the glass of wine he had just picked up. “Cook did not know you were coming. None of us knew.”
“I did not have time to prepare or send word. I left London just before sundown on the day of your wedding. I would have arrived sooner if it had not been raining.” The Dowager pushed her plate away and picked up her wine. “I want some roast. Do we have roast?”
“You could have written when you stopped at inns on your journey,” Rhys suggested, and Elizabeth could see how annoyed he was by his grandmother’s complaints. She reached for his hand under the table, and he clasped it the instant he felt her touch.
There was no deep familial love between him and his grandmother, and she recalled the story Miles had told her about Rhys being alone for most of his childhood and adulthood. If he had never been shown love, then he likely would not be able to love or even recognize love when it was shown to him. Elizabeth’s heart ached for him, and she longed to know his story, what turned him into the man he was now. He caught her staring at him, and instead of raising a brow or giving her a questioning look, he smiled.
“Do not expect me to stay in the Dower House because it has not been readied for me.” The Dowager drew their attention back to her.
Rhys chuckled humorlessly. “I see why you did not send word. You have no wish to stay in the Dower House.”
“Why should I allow myself to be relegated to the fringe when I can be at the center?” The Dowager was looking at Elizabeth as she said those words, and Elizabeth could see the figurative gauntlet Rhys’ grandmother was throwing at Elizabeth’s feet.
Elizabeth would not pick it up because she would not fight her. Lowering her eyes, Elizabeth continued eating her food, deciding to take Rhys’ advice and pretend the Dowager was not there. Rhys did the same, and they finished their main course in silence.
“This must be a change for you, Elizabeth,” the Dowager said as dessert was brought, and Elizabeth’s brow rose ever so slightly, both at her grandmother-in-law’s use of her Christian name and the implication of the Dowager’s words.
“Of course, it is a change, My Lady.” Elizabeth wore a placid smile. “I never dreamed a Castle would come into my possession.”
Rhys bit back a smile as his grandmother said, “Guildford Castle belongs to the Guildford title.”
“Yes, and I have the Guildford title now.” Elizabeth made certain her voice was soft, and her smile remained.
Rhys guffawed but quickly covered his laughter with a cough, and the Dowager stared at Elizabeth in shock. She stood, pulling her shawl tighter about her shoulders. “I have lost my appetite.” She turned and started walking out of the room, adding in a lower tone, “It is rather unfortunate that you are Lady Guildford.”
The acerbic words did not ruffle Elizabeth in the least, and she picked up her fork and took a bite of the orange cake in front of her.
“Well done, Darling.” Rhys grinned when they were alone again. “No one besides myself has ever challenged my grandmother the way you just did.”
“I wish she would allow us to be friends, but if not, then at least be civil with each other,” Elizabeth said.
“Perhaps she will someday.” He gave her an encouraging smile. “Do not allow her behavior to upset you. She is more harmless than she would like you to believe.” Elizabeth nodded, glad he supported her.
After dinner, they walked to the drawing room arm-in-arm, but he stopped at the door. “I fear I must leave you now to attend to some matters.” He kissed her hand. “Have a good night, Darling.”
Elizabeth was disappointed, but she murmured, “You, as well.”
Later, after dressing for bed, she waited for him, but he never came to her. She thought they were better after his apology. He had almost kissed her. So, why was he unwilling to come? Had she done something to push him away? Was she being rejected?
