A Hasty Betrothal

Befuddled by his response, she waited for the barouche door to be opened. She took the footman’s hand and descended. No matter. They had chosen their course, and there could be no turning back.

She glanced around her. People crowded Gunter’s. It was April, after all. The start of a fabulous Season, and everyone who was anyone knew that ices on a warm day were a perfect opportunity to see and be seen.

She braced herself for the stares and conversation, taking the parasol Miles so kindly handed to her. He had managed to wipe the moodiness from his face and looked the perfect gentleman with his chiseled features and neatly tied cravat. She half expected her skirts to be mussed, but no, as she glanced down, she saw that the silks were in perfect arrangement about her slippered feet.

The purpose of their visit to Gunter’s was twofold. To discuss what Miles expected of her and then let all those who had read that unfortunate gossip see that Mr. Hawthorne was far more to her than an illicit liaison during an overcrowded ball.

Her parents wasted no time in informing her that it was her duty to spread the word that she was betrothed, even if only by action. They were quite unhappy with her betrothal to a man of business but since she’d rejected Wrottesley, they had little choice in the matter. Unless they wanted to bring scandal on the family, her marriage to Miles was the only possible solution.

Mother had refused to speak to her this morning.

Wincing, she forced herself to take in her surroundings. Her windpipe shrank.

Well-dressed ladies milled about the emerald grasses of the park, some carrying their own parasols, others wearing broad-brimmed bonnets. Gentlemen strolled beside them, using stylish canes and carrying ices. Servants darted back and forth, and even the waiters looked pristine in their uniforms as they brought treats to those who’d rather sit in curricles.

Clouds provided the perfect shade for those who chose to walk the paths designed for couples and families. Not everyone wanted to be cloistered on such a lovely spring day. Elizabeth clutched her parasol closer, battling the urge to turn her head at an angle. Why had she agreed to this?

The overwhelming sense of inferiority and failure that accompanied public appearances pounded through her. A duke’s granddaughter should be poised and, if not beautiful, then regal. She supposed she should be thankful she had not been sent to a country house to live out her days, free of the stares of those who had never experienced mottled, discolored skin. She supposed she should be thankful...and yet she was not. How often she wished to live in solitude, with only the company of unseeing books.

This morning’s escape from her parents’ disapproval had seemed a smart choice, but now she wasn’t so sure. Panic edged her throat, circling her thoughts like a vulture feeding upon her sanity.

Pressure on her arm caused her to glance over to see Miles offering her a tender look. “All will be well, dear Bitt. Hold your head up and show these people how the granddaughter of a duke behaves.”

She nodded stiffly. He was right, of course. His confidence bolstered her as she gripped his arm and let him lead her to a pretty little bench situated on the side of the hill. He left her there to get ices, and when he returned, he settled beside her and handed her one.

The treat was as delicious as she remembered. Almost enough to take her mind off the curious glances they received. At last one woman meandered over. Elizabeth knew she should recognize the striking blonde, who was dressed in an outfit that must be eminently fashionable, covered in ruffles and lace and shrieking wealth.

Her lady’s maid followed behind, eyes averted. Oh, yes, certainly a woman Elizabeth should know. A sense of failure threatened to take hold.

“Lady Elizabeth, how good to see you out. And with a suitor, no less.” The woman’s eyebrows twitched, and Elizabeth thought she saw a frown in her smile. She waited, presumably for Elizabeth to introduce them.

Miles had stood in the lady’s presence. Elizabeth forced herself upward, racking her mind for the lady’s name. For something. Anything. But a name failed to form.

“Lady Englewood, is it not?” Miles offered her a crisp bow, to which the lady held out her hand for his perfunctory kiss upon her silken glove. He straightened, offering Elizabeth a twinkling smirk. “We met the other evening, I recall.”

“Ah, yes. Mr. Hawthorne. Lord Wrottesley mentioned you in passing, and I do believe you were a part of our little group at Lady Charleston’s. Such a fashionable woman.” The lady turned her sharp words to Elizabeth, who wavered beneath her peer’s scrutiny. “It is good to see you in the fair weather, my dear. Your parents have expressed concern for your health, citing it as the reason you’ve been in the country for so long. Though I do remember you coming out last year, did you not?”

“I have been out for several years now,” Elizabeth said carefully. And now to play her parents’ plan to perfection. “Mr. Hawthorne has graciously extended me an offer of marriage, and so we are celebrating with ices. There will be invitations going out for a celebratory ball. An event you will not want to miss. It’s sure to be a crush of the most gigantic proportions.”

Miles made a noise that sounded like a cough. She quickly patted him on his nicely muscled arm. “My affianced is quite excited to meet my parents’ circle of friends.”

“Is that so?” Lady Englewood’s nose thrust upward and Elizabeth could almost imagine a quizzing glass stuck to her eyeball. “We shall most eagerly await the invitation.” She gave them one last look, her gaze lingering upon the right side of Elizabeth’s face, as though perhaps wondering how any man could possibly want such a marred human being.

Miles was not any man though, as annoying as he could be. Suddenly Elizabeth felt happy to be out with him. They shared a conspiratorial smile as they returned to their seats and watched the loose-lipped lady spread the word that the heiress had found a gentleman.

And for a moment, as Elizabeth tasted the tartness in her ice and inhaled the aroma of Miles’s cologne, she quite felt that all was right with the world, and that perhaps life would not be as horrible as she anticipated.

Chapter Six

Miles had certainly wasted no time in making Elizabeth’s life miserable.

She scowled at herself in the mirror.

“Be calm, my lady.” Jenna came up behind her. She touched Elizabeth’s hair, which she’d put up earlier that morning. “You look lovely and shall enjoy yourself.”

“Now that I’m betrothed, you won’t need to go with us everywhere.”

“Quite fortuitous for me.” A shy smirk edged Jenna’s lips in the mirror’s reflection. “I have several duties to complete before I meet you at Windermar.” Jenna would be leaving the next morning for the estate. “Your pink chiffon is in need of an update. I was thinking roses and silk stitching.”

Elizabeth waved a hand, her gaze straying to her birthmark. In the glare of morning, the rippled redness appeared remarkably noticeable. “I despise that dress. Destroy it.”

Jenna laughed. “Nonsense. I know of several lower maids who are in want of a fancy dress. Why, Betsy is marrying in two months. She could use the material for something quite lovely.”

A twinge pinged Elizabeth, but not enough to take her attention from the face staring back at her. “Just get rid of the dress. Is there no other way to disguise this...?”

“I purchased a new powder but hesitate to try it on a day you’re going out with Mr. Hawthorne, on the chance you have a negative reaction. You have such sensitive skin, my lady.”

Elizabeth frowned, tracing the outline of her birthmark. The edges scraped her fingertips, the texture quite different than the rest of her skin. Indeed, if it were not for this infernal marking, she might have quite beautiful skin. Naturally creamy and pale, with cheeks that blushed easily and required no rouge. Her lips also were often full colored, requiring none of the dreadful lip antics she’d seen other ladies resort to.

Jenna put a hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder as if to comfort her. “We will try the powder tomorrow. Will that do?”

“After so many years, one would think we could find a way to hide my blemish.” Elizabeth pushed up from her seat and faced Jenna. “You have been a most excellent lady’s maid. Give that dress to Betsy, finish whatever duties await you and then take the afternoon off.”

“Really, my lady?”

“Of course. You are leaving for Windermar in the morning?”

“I had planned to.”

“Grandmother can spare a maid to help me when I arrive.” Elizabeth forced a smile to hide the dread curling inside as the time to visit Miles’s factory drew near. His arrival was imminent. Their trip would be an all-week affair, as the factory was located in Cheshire County, near her grandmother’s estate.

After Miles informed her of their upcoming factory visit, she’d written to Grandmother, procuring permission to stay for several days. Elizabeth was looking forward to returning home. She had procured a telescope several months ago but had not been able to use it nearly as much as she’d hoped.

“Thank you, my lady.” Jenna curtsied and left the room. Reluctantly, Elizabeth followed. As she trudged downstairs, she heard Miles’s voice coming from her father’s study. The sound of his husky, deep tones sent an odd shiver through her.

Nerves, of course. For being forced into a factory tour, surrounded by strange staring people... She shuddered but then squared her shoulders. A small price to pay for what Miles had given up to keep her from ruin.

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