"Have you, Gervase?"

"Devil take it, Angelique! I want Elizabeth to be my wife." He made a violent gesture with his hand. "I want to keep her until I grow weary of her or, more likely, until she grows weary of me. And then I don't know what the hell I'll do..."

He stopped as he registered Vincent and Angelique's fascinated expressions and flung himself down into his chair.

Angelique cuddled one of her fluffy white dogs to her magnificent bosom. "I don't think all is lost, Gervase. Knowing Elizabeth, she probably needed to rail at you before her common sense reasserted itself. When she calms down, you will be able to present your arguments to her in a more logical way. I'm sure she will understand you then."

"I told her I loved her and she said that she despised and hated me. I don't think she could have been more explicit."

Angelique gave a trill of laughter. "Nonsense, my friend, if she truly hated you, there would have been no need for such passion. She is angry because she feels betrayed, and I can hardly blame her." Angelique sipped her tea and fed the nearest dog one of the dainty pastries from her plate.

Gervase pretended to study the fire before asking ungraciously, "So what do you two self-appointed experts in love think I should do now?"

Angelique sat up, dislodging the dog from her lap, and exchanged a glance with Vincent. "Nothing. You are supposed to be going to Bath to pick up Eloise from school, aren't you?"

"Yes. I'm due there on Friday. Are you suggesting I should go?" Gervase looked from one of his companions to the other and wondered if they had run mad.

"Don't you see?" Angelique leaned forward, hands clasped beneath her overflowing bosom. "If, as you have arranged, Elizabeth goes to live with her Waterstone grandparents, she will soon regret losing all the freedoms you have allowed her. From what you have said, the Waterstones are a very conventional family. How do you think Elizabeth will feel when they expect her to behave like a simpering debutante?"

Gervase stared at Angelique with gradually dawning respect. "Elizabeth will hate it. She prides herself on her intelligence and independence."

A slow grin spread across Vincent's face and even Gervase felt his misery lift a little. He reached for his brandy glass and offered Angelique a silent toast. "I think that Eloise might enjoy seeing a little of the countryside before we return to town. You might tell anyone who cares to inquire that I expect to be away for at least a month."

Chapter 37

"Elizabeth, dear, do sit up. A lady's spine should never touch the back of her chair."

Elizabeth sat bolt upright and jabbed her needle into her embroidery with unnecessary violence. She clenched her teeth as her grandmother gave yet another gentle sigh. She had hoped her grandparents would welcome the addition of an intelligent, capable young woman into their household, but she feared she was something of a disappointment.

Not that the Waterstones were unkind. They had offered all their deceased son's children a home after learning of their plight from the Duke of Diable Delamere. Only Elizabeth had been obliged to accept their kind offer, as Hugh was set to rejoin his regiment and Michael had obtained employment elsewhere.

Elizabeth glanced across at Mary, who sat listening to Mrs. Violet Waterstone as she explained how to embroider a flower in chain stitch. To Elizabeth's relief, the Waterstones had offered Mary a home as well and seemed to have taken a great liking to her.

"Girls, don't forget that Mr. Gutheridge is coming to give you a music lesson at eleven and that fittings for your new gowns will occupy the rest of the day."

The lace ribbons tied beneath Mrs. Waterstone's dimpled chin quivered as she peered at Elizabeth over her spectacles, as though anticipating a refusal. She was a petite woman who resembled a plump, well-feathered hen. Elizabeth had found that her amiable demeanor concealed a stubbornness that equaled Elizabeth's own.

"I haven't forgotten, Grandmother," Elizabeth replied, aware that her unconventional behavior was a constant worry to her elderly grandparents. In truth, she almost preferred the fierce disagreements with her grandfather to the gentle lectures of her grandmother. Mary was proving far more malleable and acceptable then Elizabeth could ever hope to be.

Elizabeth sighed as the mantelpiece clock ticked away the stifling seconds of her life. Another hour sitting in the stuffy, over-furnished morning room would be followed by a pointless music lesson. She had begun to understand why most young ladies of the ton seemed so vapid and uninspired. If she had been deprived of exercise and the means to use her mind from an early age, she too would be a simpering empty-headed mess of giggles and artfully arranged curls.

Unwanted memories of her busy days and nights at Delamere House flooded her mind. She slid her hand into her pocket and retrieved the note that had been delivered to her four weeks previously.

She already knew the words by heart. In it, a treacherous Michael informed her that he had taken over as the duke's secretary, and that the duke would be out of town for the foreseeable future. Elizabeth stuffed the letter back into her pocket. She was glad Michael had found such superior employment, but was quietly furious at his choice of employer.

Whatever Michael's reasons for sending her the note, the duke's return was a matter of indifference to her. She swallowed hard. She had no claim on him after her unforgivable display of temper, yet she missed him more than she could ever have imagined.

Her embroidery slid off her lap and she stared down at her hands. The duke had said that he loved her even when she had abused him and claimed to hate him. He had said that he loved her...

Despite every accusation she had flung at him, she knew she loved him and even understood why he'd behaved as he had. Deep in her heart, she feared he would never allow her the opportunity to tell him how wrong she had been. She knew how he dealt with the women he despised.

A discreet tap on the door announced the appearance of the housekeeper to discuss the menus with Mrs. Waterstone. While her grandmother was distracted, Elizabeth slipped away to catch up on her reading.

She hadn't been allowed to attend the preliminary trial of Sir John Harrington and the Foresters because the prosecution had intimated that they might need to call her as a witness. In an attempt to keep abreast of the court case, she had asked to read the newspaper reports, but Mrs. Waterstone considered reading newspapers to be an unsuitable occupation for unmarried women. Though Elizabeth had argued that she was no green girl, her grandmother had been adamant. Elizabeth had resorted to subterfuge.

After a swift glance around the imposing entrance hall, Elizabeth hurried down the back stairs to the basement. She found the butler in his room, ironing the pages of the general's morning newspaper.

"Good morning, Miss Waterstone. Would you care to have a look at yesterday's paper? It is on the table."

Elizabeth smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Carter. That would be delightful."

She had formed an unlikely alliance with Mr. Carter after he discovered her, on her knees, emptying out the wastebasket in the general's study. When she explained her purpose, Mr. Carter confessed that he usually kept the newspaper to read in the evening and that she was welcome to have a look at it after the general had finished. Elizabeth suspected her grandfather knew what she was doing and was happy for her to continue as long as she didn't bring it to the attention of his wife.

With a sigh of satisfaction, she settled down at the scarred oak table to leaf through the closely written print. A cup of tea and a scone appeared at her elbow and she gave an absent thank you to the cook.

She had also argued with her grandfather as to why she was forbidden to attend the upcoming trial. Her whole existence would be affected by the outcome, and yet she wasn't even considered intelligent enough to read about it. To her dismay, Elizabeth was beginning to find that one of the penalties of living a settled and decorous life was an intolerable lack of freedom.

Through her previous reading, Elizabeth already knew her mother had been convicted of a lesser charge after claiming that the two men had forced her to help them. She had offered to turn King's evidence to lessen her sentence and would spend the next few years in gaol. To Elizabeth's secret relief, her mother had avoided being transported or subject to the hangman's noose, which was the likely fate of Mr. Forester and Sir John. Although she deplored her mother's blatant bid for survival, Elizabeth couldn't help but be glad she wouldn't have to testify against her.

Elizabeth found the relevant paragraph in the paper and ascertained that the trial of Mr. Forester and Sir John Harrington was set to take place at the Old Bailey in November.

Mr. Carter gave a gentle cough and looked at the clock, warning Elizabeth that she must hurry. With guilty haste, she flipped over a few pages, ran her finger down the society column written by 'Lady Lucinda Lallygag' and searched for the duke's name.

"The infamous Duke of D-- has been absent from our fair city, apparently enjoying the country air with an exotic unknown lady. Is the devilish duke about to settle down, we ask ourselves? Has he finally been trapped into matrimony?"

Elizabeth disguised the pain in her heart with a disgusted snort and tossed the paper back onto the table. "I doubt it, my dear Lady L. He is far too busy breaking hearts to want to settle down with just one woman. Where would the fun be in that?" She frowned at Mr. Carter. "Why doesn't Lady Lucinda say something useful about when the duke will return?"