“You’re fidgeting again.”
Elizabeth blinked at her stepmother’s voice. She had, indeed, just adjusted her gown’s neckline for what must have been the hundredth time.
Lady Grisham’s gaze swept over her, sharp and assessing. “Leave it. You’ve done well tonight. Do not ruin the effect.”
The effect, Elizabeth supposed, referred to her crushed silk gown: midnight blue, perfectly fitted, and daringly cut just a little lower than she usually wore. On another lady, the difference might have gone unnoticed. But Elizabeth, though slender, had a figure that made modest tailoring feel immodest.
She squared her shoulders.
“There’s no turning back now,” she murmured.
Lady Grisham’s nod was curt. “You performed well at the musicale. Tonight, I expect continued progress. For your sisters’ sake.”
Elizabeth resisted the sigh building in her chest. Everything, it seemed, was for her sisters. And yet, she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that if she were caught scandalizing herself with a pirouette in the middle of Hyde Park, Lady Grisham would somehow still insist it had no bearing on her daughters’ prospects.
“Yes, Lady Grisham,” she said coolly.
Next to her, Wilhelmina studied her with narrowed eyes and a suspicious frown. No teasing came, though.
Perhaps even Wilhelmina knew when not to provoke the marchioness.
The Halverston townhouse was aglow with candlelight and murmured conversation when they arrived.
Elizabeth stepped inside with practiced grace, but nerves fluttered low in her stomach. She tried to recall everything the Duke of Redmoor had taught her.
Naturally, he was already there.
Of course he was.
He stood in a circle of older gentlemen, posture immaculate, voice low but clear.
He looked taller tonight, more formidable. The perfectly cut coat, the crisp fall of his cravat, the gleam of his boots. He looked…comfortable.At ease in a room that once would have made him bristle.
Was it her instruction? Or had he simply found the man he was meant to be?
Pride bloomed in her chest, unexpected and warm.
Then came the announcement for dinner, and the guests began to pair off toward the dining room. Elizabeth found her place beside a young man she didn’t immediately recognize
Until he turned to her with a too-eager smile and a voice slightly higher than she expected.
“Lady Elizabeth! What a pleasure to be seated beside you.”
She returned the smile with practiced ease. “Likewise, my lord.”
Across the table, she spotted the Duke again; this time seated beside a sharp-nosed man she recognized as Lord Penrith. He looked rigid. Stiff.Noble. She almost didn’t recognize him.
A flash of pride again, mixed with something else.
Her attention was pulled back by her table companion.
“We don’t have pheasant tonight,” Lord Pomfrey commented, nudging his dish. “Surely a lady of your refinement and experience would miss it dearly.”
Elizabeth bit the inside of her cheek. He seemed harmless, if a little overeager.
“I enjoy such delicacies in moderation, my lord. My father, Lord Grisham, was very fond of hunting. He may have slowed with the years, but I daresay he’s still plotting his next countryside pursuit.”
“Ah! I was once part of one of his hunts,” Pomfrey said, puffing up slightly. “He has the finest spaniels I’ve ever seen.”