When Elizabeth didn’t immediately respond—for she could not think of one face saving thing to say—the dowager flicked a gloved hand at her as she made a coarse inspection of her from head to hem and then back up again. “You should be ashamed of yourself. I realize this is your first Season, but in London society, country girls are expected to comport themselves better than barn felines. Loose morals have no place here.”
Elizabeth would have preferred to be cross-examined before the magistrate than suffer the dowager’s dressing down. Her world was crumbling down around her and she could do little to stop the destruction.
Opposite of the Dowager Countess of Danvers in every possible way with her small-boned frame and impeccable manners, Mrs. Abernathy appeared unwilling to convict Elizabeth without a fair hearing. “Lady Danvers, I’m sure you are mistaken. I have known Elizabeth since she was a babe. If you would give the poor girl a chance, I’m quite certain she has a perfectly logical explanation.”
Elizabeth could have kissed her, the dear woman. Mrs. Abernathy had always had a fondness for her and her sisters, bringing them treats on every visit with her mother.
“What possible explanation could there possibly be? It’s quite obvious they were doing a sight more than flower gazing. And don’t you try to protect her. You heard their goings on as clearly as I did.” The dowager folded fleshy arms across her ample breasts, refusing to budge an inch as she stood set to be jury and judge while wielding her executioner’s sword like she’d been going so all her seventy odd years.
Elizabeth met Lady Danvers’ disapproving glower without flinching. The Dowager Countess of Danvers was a formidable force in society, her influence wide reaching and much sought after. An unfavorable word from her lips would spell certain disaster for someone in Elizabeth’s position.
Anger began a slow burn at the woman’s arrogance.
What possible explanation indeed.
But Elizabeth wasn’t addled in the brain as to respond the way she wanted—the way she ought to—fully understanding the ways of London society. A healthy dose of fear settled in the pit of her stomach.
Think, think, think.
She must tell the blasted woman something before the gossip wheels began to turn in earnest and at record breaking speeds. If the dowager countess had her way, Elizabeth and the Smith name would be dirt before the evening closed.
“My sincerest apologies, my lady, if my behavior has been indiscreet. But in my excitement, I acted out of character.” Where she was going with this, Elizabeth hadn’t the faintest idea, but Mrs. Abernathy’s brown eyes widened and Lady Danvers gave a succinct nod, urging her to proceed. She now had their most focused attention.
“It’s not to be announced until the end of the Season, but given what you heard, I shall tell you. I would hate it if you walked away thinking the worst of me.”
Elizabeth drew in a deep breath and threw herself at the mercy of an uncertain fate. “The gentleman had just asked me to marry him. I am betrothed—or at least I shall before the end of the Season.” Which gave her four weeks to perform that minor miracle.
A delighted smile, stretched across Mrs. Abernathy’s face. “Oh my dear girl, that is wonderful. My, your mother never said of word of it to me.” She clapped her hands together in girlish glee.
However, the dowager wasn’t so easily fooled. She directed a level stare at Elizabeth that made her want to squirm. Acting was not one of Elizabeth’s talents but with her future resting in the hands of an unyielding and austere Lady Danvers, she summoned up every bit of ingenuity she possessed—which did not account to much—and smiled a foolish, giddy smile of a young woman with stars in her eyes and love in her heart.
“And to whom are you betrothed?” the countess asked.
“Unfortunately, I cannot say until the gentleman receives the blessing of my father. Which my father will grant, of course, as the gentleman is titled,” she added quickly, willing to say anything to remove the skepticism from the dowager’s eyes.
Lady Danvers glanced at Mrs. Abernathy before turning back to her. “A peer you say?” She spoke with enough doubt in her tone to offend.
The witch!
Although truthfully, Elizabeth acknowledged that before her father inherited his title, there was more a likelihood that money would fall from the sky than her marrying even a sir. But now it was indeed possible, especially with the one thousand pounds her father had settled on her.
Elizabeth drew back her shoulders and stiffened her spine. “Yes, my lady, a lord.”
In response, the dowager raised one over-plucked eyebrow and gave a soft, harrumph before saying, “I will be expecting an introduction before you go announcing it to all of London.”
If the woman had requested she deliver her the moon on a platter, Elizabeth would have gladly promised to do just that. But since thankfully, the dowager hadn’t asked the impossible, Elizabeth just nodded vigorously. “You will be the first to know, that I promise.”
“Make certain you do.” The unspoken threat of revealing all the dowager had heard and seen tonight all over London simmered between them. “And do make yourself presentable before you go back inside. It shan’t take a genius to guess what you have been up to.”
Elizabeth acknowledged Mrs. Abernathy with a grateful smile, performed an ingratiating curtsey toward the dowager before hastily taking her leave, pondering how precisely she was going to get herself out of this mess.
~*~*~
After slipping back inside, Elizabeth was met by Missy. She attempted to excuse herself from the remainder of the ball pleading a headache but her cousin insisted they speak privately because she knew something was troubling her. As Elizabeth knew Missy would ruthlessly wear her down with her compassion and concern, she‘d acquiesced without another word and led Missy to her bedchamber.
Five minutes later, Missy paced the carpeted floor at the foot of the bed, her slender fingers twirling a lock of chestnut hair she’d pulled from the pins securing it into an elegant coiffure, her smooth brow furrowed in fierce concentration.
“Well, I would definitely say you have managed to get yourself into quite a bind,” Missy stated after a lengthy silence that followed Elizabeth’s recount of the evening’s events.
At least she hadn’t told her how utterly thoughtless and foolish she‘d been to have put herself in such a situation. Elizabeth had already berated herself up one side of Hyde Park and down the other.
“What am I to do?” she asked, doing her best to tamp down a wave of panic that seemed to ebb and flow depending on who, the viscount or the dowager, her thoughts centered upon.
Her cousin’s expression immediately became contrite. Holding out her hand, she motioned Elizabeth to the large canopy bed. “Come, sit down. You look like a bundle of nerves. Don’t fret so. All will be well, I promise.”
Missy angled toward her once they were seated on the edge of the bed and looked Elizabeth in the eye. “Lord Creswell must marry you. I can see no other way.”
Difficult as it was, Elizabeth had to face the truth of her words. And that wasn’t to say she herself abhorred the thought. Her distress stemmed from the unfortunate circumstances and her one glaring omission. She had to tell him who she was.
“He is going to be angry.”
Missy’s back went straight as a board and a steely glint entered her blue-gray eyes. “Then he should have been more circumspect in his dealings with you,” she said her voice cooling several degrees.
As much as Missy admired the viscount, Elizabeth knew her cousin would have no problem taking him on to defend her honor. Elizabeth dropped her gaze to her lap. Never had she felt so unworthy of such unstinting loyalty.