Kate Pearce - Educating Elizabeth

"You may be sure that I will be speaking to your friend, Jack Llewelyn, anyway. Tell him it would not be wise to leave Mr. Forester's house until he has seen me." The duke removed Elizabeth's spectacles and closed her cold fingers around them. "You never duped me, Elizabeth. I knew what you were from the beginning and I indulged you because it amused me."

The duke stepped away so abruptly that Elizabeth grabbed at the chair for support. He turned to his desk, stuffed her scattered possessions back into her reticule, and tossed it to her. Then he strode toward the door and flung it wide.

At the bottom of the staircase she could just make out a pile of luggage stacked on the marble floor.

"Get out, Elizabeth. If you try to come back I will have Standish set the Runners on you."

Elizabeth elevated her chin and walked past him, her reticule clutched to her chest. Ignoring the luggage, she headed straight for the front door, which Standish hastily flung open for her. A dense curtain of rain greeted her but she paid it no heed as she picked up her skirts and descended the slippery steps.

A shout behind her made her pause but she refused to turn back. Nicholas appeared at her elbow, her bonnet and cloak in his hands. Wordlessly, he thrust them at her and she tried to smile.

She waited until the door of the mansion slammed behind him before opening her fingers to reveal the shards of glass in her hand from her crushed spectacles. Ignoring the blood that streamed down her fingers, she put on her bonnet and cloak and set off.

The duke stood silhouetted at the window as she trudged along the pavement. She was fiercely glad the rain masked the tears that fell unheeded from her eyes.

Eventually, when her feet were so cold and wet that she could no longer feel them, Elizabeth wandered into Hyde Park and sank down on a sheltered bench under a group of willow trees. The park was deserted. The fashionable crowd who usually frequented it on an afternoon during the Season had all disappeared.

Her stomach growled, reminding her of the many fruitless hours that had passed since her dismissal by the duke.

The only signs of life on the rain-washed streets had been the men trying to cordon off the parade route and hang limp flags from the street lights.

Elizabeth wiggled her toes and stared ruefully at her ruined kid slippers. If only Nicholas had had the forethought to bring her a pair of boots as well...

She swallowed as she recalled his unexpected kindness and hoped that he wouldn't get into trouble with the duke because of it. Had the duke expected her to pick up the luggage Standish had left in the hall for her? She sniffed disdainfully. She hadn't paid for any of the garments inside the boxes and she had no interest in claiming them. Let the duke pass them on to his next mistress.

On that dismal thought, the willow trees swished around her with a hushing sound. She wished she had the trees' ability to bend so gracefully.

Where was she to go? If she went to the Foresters, she would have to deal with her stepfather and try to conceal her suspicions from him. After her bruising encounter with the duke, she had grave doubts that she was capable of deceiving an experienced cardsharp like Mr. Forester.

Had her stepfather deliberately sent her to the duke in the hope that she would become of use? It seemed more and more likely, and explained the duke's last unpleasant remarks to her.

Elizabeth refused to picture the duke's contemptuous face. She had to think about protecting Jack Llewelyn and Michael from the duke's impending interrogation. If the duke suspected her of dallying with Jack Llewelyn, it might give him a new focus for his anger.

Angelique's kind face swam into Elizabeth's mind. But Angelique's loyalty to the duke was unquestioned. She would find no welcome there.

A sudden gust of wind separated the emerald curtain of willow leaves and revealed the bleak park beyond. It was starting to get dark and the park gates were locked at sunset. Knowing that she had no real choice, she picked up her reticule, drew her cloak around her, and headed for the northern gate of the park and Birdcage Walk beyond.

She knocked on the room numbered twenty-three and held her breath until it opened a crack.

"Mrs. Waterstone? Good God, you are soaked to the skin! Come in and warm yourself immediately."

Elizabeth gave Lord Vincent Delacroix a grateful smile as he ushered her into his warm and inviting room.

"Thank you, Lord Vincent, I didn't know where else to go..."

She hadn't denied anything.

Gervase stared at the empty chair in front of his desk and recalled Elizabeth's expression when he had confronted her with the evidence of her deceit. With a curse, he ground out his Spanish cigar and continued to glare at the chair. Weak sunlight filtered through the half-drawn curtains and glinted off the bracelet he had thrown at Elizabeth.

She hadn't claimed it.

Gervase picked up the bracelet and wearily admired its sparkle before letting it slide through his fingers. How could he return it to Angelique if she followed through with her threat and left him for good? In one night he had managed to alienate the two most important women in his life.

His thoughts returned to Elizabeth. Some part of him, the part she had encouraged to bloom within his soul, had hoped she would defend herself.

She hadn't even tried.

Gervase walked across to the window, loosened his crumpled cravat, and dug his fingers into the tense muscles at the back of his neck. Despite running over her every word and gesture a thousand times, he still couldn't decide what bothered him most about Elizabeth's behavior. Why hadn't she defended herself with her normal wit and vigor? Why had she capitulated so easily?

His ragged sigh misted the glass as he gazed down onto the square. It was still raining in a desultory fashion so no one was about. It would be ironic if the Prince Regent, a notoriously fussy man, called off the victory parade on the morrow for fear he might catch a chill.

A discreet tap on the door made Gervase look up. Nicholas came in, his tawny hair damp, his expression strained.

"Well?" Gervase asked.

Nicholas turned to the fire and held his hands out to the blaze. "She didn't go to the Foresters."

"Then where in damnation did she go?"

"I don't know, Your Grace. By the time I set out to find her yesterday evening, Miss Waterstone had disappeared."

Gervase rubbed a distracted hand over his unshaven chin. He had counted on Elizabeth returning to the Foresters. "Did you also ascertain that she didn't go to Angelique's?"

Nicholas sank into a chair and stared down at his clasped hands. "Angelique told me to tell you that if Miss Waterstone did turn to her for help, she would give it willingly and be damned to you."

Gervase allowed his suspicions free rein. Was Elizabeth already on her way across the Channel to the safety of revolutionary France? If she were, his fragile hopes of her innocence would receive their final deathblow.

"There is something I don't understand, Your Grace," Nicholas said slowly. "When we searched Miss Waterstone's room, she had no money hidden anywhere."

Gervase shrugged. "She is a woman, Nicholas. She probably spent it on fashionable fripperies and bonbons."

Nicholas shook his head. "I've been shopping with Miss Waterstone on several occasions and she rarely bought anything for herself. So, what has she done with her money?" He looked up at Gervase, his eyes haunted. "What if she was telling the truth, and she supports her invalid brother?"

"I asked the Foreign Office about her brother and have received no reply." Gervase answered. "What if she secreted the money in a bank and used it to aid her escape?"