Kate Pearce - Educating Elizabeth

"You are right, my dear cousin. Mrs. Waterstone is not only a beautiful, desirable woman but an intelligent one as well." He kissed Elizabeth's fingers with lazy grace and retained them in his. "I cannot thank you enough for the introduction."

Elizabeth swirled her fan to cover her mouth as the duke continued to watch her with hard, unamused eyes. He refilled his brandy glass, his gaze fixed on Elizabeth's lap, where Lord Vincent caressed the palm of her hand with the tip of his thumb.

"Your Grace, where is Angelique?" Elizabeth asked.

The duke raised one elegant, insolent shoulder. "I haven't seen her for a while. She took offense at something I said and disappeared in a swirl of petticoats." He winked at Lord Vincent. "Even after all the women I've bedded, I still don't understand what goes on in their pretty little heads."

Elizabeth threw him a sharp glance. "That is quite obvious, Your Grace, otherwise you would not be sitting here by yourself."

Gervase sat up and his air of indolence disappeared. He leaned toward Elizabeth. She tried not to inhale the scent of brandy, which clung to his skin like a rich, potent perfume. "Are you implying that I'm incapable of sustaining a relationship with a woman?"

Elizabeth gave a brittle laugh and turned her head to gaze up into Lord Vincent's amused eyes. "I would not dare to suggest such a thing, Your Grace. Men are as much a mystery to me as you claim women are to you."

Lord Vincent put his arm around Elizabeth. "I think you underestimate yourself, my dear Mrs. Waterstone. I would wager that you can guess exactly what I'm thinking about now."

Elizabeth modestly lowered her head and Lord Vincent brushed her averted cheek with his mouth. She almost gasped as the duke's fingers tightened painfully around her wrist before he released her and sat back.

The main lights in the auditorium had been dimmed and the music continued to play, although not many people appeared to be dancing. A solitary footman, his white wig askew, his livery stained with wine, ascended the steps to the stage and began to set light to the candles that adorned the edge.

Angelique reentered the box with a flurry of explanations and apologies, bringing with her a masked blonde woman. Elizabeth wasn't sure if it was the unknown woman's resemblance to Angelique that made her seem familiar or her voice as she whispered in Angelique's ear.

While Elizabeth pondered the mystery, Angelique began the introductions.

"Your Grace, this is Emilia, Lady Ma..."

The duke cut through her introduction with a wave of his hand. "I know who she is, Angelique. Her first name is quite sufficient for a masked ball--you know that. We must strive to cultivate an air of mystery." He rose with a charming smile. "Would you care to sit down, Emilia?"

"Oh Gervase," breathed Emilia, "I knew you would forgive me. I knew you would want me back."

Elizabeth frowned as she suddenly remembered where she had seen Emilia before--on the first occasion that the duke had taken her and Eloise to the theater, he had very publicly cast off Emilia when they had met her after the performance.

Giggling, Emilia accepted the duke's invitation to sit on his lap and Elizabeth looked away. She hadn't believed her wretched evening could get any worse. An unwilling smile trembled on her lips. How like the duke to invite his previous mistress along to watch the ignominious dismissal of her successor. Was Emilia unable to resist the duke's allure or had Angelique been used as a go-between to engineer this particular scenario?

Elizabeth stared at Angelique, who avoided her gaze as she pretended to chat with Lord Vincent. Emilia started to rain kisses down onto the duke's face and he made no effort to stop her.

With a determined attempt to appear unconcerned, Elizabeth allowed Lord Vincent to take her hand and remove her glove. As he pressed kisses up the tender flesh of her inner arm, she half-closed her eyes and found that his touch was not unpleasant.

Unfortunately for her shattered nerves, she could still make out the duke and Emilia, even through the shadows. Capturing Elizabeth's reluctant gaze, the duke slid his fingers into Emilia's guinea gold hair, tilted her head back, and kissed her full on the mouth. Emilia squeaked as he deepened the kiss.

Gervase held Elizabeth's gaze over Emilia's shoulder the whole same time.

Agony laced with anger shot through Elizabeth. She refused to play his games. She wouldn't stay and watch her world crumble into ashes. Lord Vincent touched her hand, his face full of concern.

"Do you not wish to watch the performance, Mrs. Waterstone? I believe it is a farce."

Elizabeth tore her eyes away from the duke's cynical gaze and looked wildly around for her cloak. "No, I thank you, Lord Vincent. Perhaps you could show me where I might hire a hackney cab?"

She curtsied to the other occupants of the box. "It has been an interesting evening, Your Grace, but I feel as if I've already witnessed the most inspired performance of the night in this very box."

Lord Vincent tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and led her toward the back of the box. "I will escort you home, Mrs. Waterstone. It will truly be my pleasure." He left her outside the door in the shadowy corridor. "If you will just wait here, I will go and engage a cab."

Elizabeth leaned her head against the grimy wallpaper and closed her eyes. The acrid-smelling candle in the wall sconce above her head hissed, guttered, and died.

She should not have taunted the duke. He was an expert at divesting himself of annoying females. She had only proved she was no match for him and had hurt herself in the process. By antagonizing him she had also lost all hope of making him listen to her suspicions about Sir John. How could she have been so foolish?

She stiffened as a familiar hand wrapped around her neck. "Are you sure that you don't want to stay, Elizabeth?" the duke murmured. The cloying smell of Emilia's perfume almost choked her and she tried to turn her head to the side. She wasn't quick enough to avoid his mouth. He kissed her with a blatant, possessive desire that gave no quarter that demanded her response that shattered her soul.

Her knees gave way under his unforgivably explicit assault and she struggled to free her hand from the intimate press of his body. The crack of her open palm against his cheek sounded like a pistol shot in the darkness. He stepped back and leisurely wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. A deep red mark appeared on his cheekbone.

"Go away, Your Grace." Elizabeth whispered. "You have achieved your aim. I don't wish to stay."

He smiled and she hated him so much she wanted to scream it in his face. "Much better to end it this way, with anger rather than with floods of tears, don't you think?"

"I'm so glad you approve of my anger."

He frowned. "What exactly do you mean?"

"You've taught me everything I know about the difference between passion and love and I appreciate that immensely." She gathered her courage. "That's also why I finally understand that you're too much of a coward to ever acknowledge your true feelings."

His expression darkened. "What in damnation are you talking about?"

"I think you know. Why else would you go to so much trouble to be rid of me?" She held his gaze. "I thought I was in love with you. Thank you for dislodging that stupid and idiotic notion from my head so successfully tonight, even if it was for your own protection."

"Elizabeth, I..."

She walked away from him, head held high, toward the far more peaceful company of Lord Vincent.

She said little as the drafty rented carriage ambled its way through the light rain back to the duke's house. When they reached the square, Lord Vincent paid off the driver and assisted Elizabeth from the carriage. He walked her to the bottom of the imposing staircase of Delamere House and then stopped to possess himself of her hands.