“Coming, Eliza,” Rebecca called as she walked away, glancing back to the Duke once, to see him staring after her, his intense gaze unrelenting.
That would have been a kiss, I am sure of it. What game is he playing with me now?
* * *
Rebecca couldn’t handle this anymore. Dinner had long past, and Rebecca had been forced throughout it all to watch Lady Esther hanging on the Duke of Frampington’s every word. She had sat eagerly at his side, consuming his conversation so much, that Rebecca had barely caught his gaze.
Now, she sat in the drawing room, as Lady Esther and the other ladies took their turns to perform at the piano, impressing their company.
“Lady Rebecca, would you care to take a turn?” Lady Esther asked, even as she took her place at the piano, evidently not intending to give over the instrument just yet.
“No, thank you,” Rebecca said hurriedly, knowing her talents were not particularly musical. She would infinitely prefer to be alone with her poetry than play the piano. Lady Esther smiled, as if in triumph, as she placed her fingers to the keys.
“Do stay, Your Grace,” she said pleadingly to the Duke at her side. “I am in need of someone to turn the sheet music for me, after all.” The Duke bestowed a smile on her and did as she asked, turning the music, not once looking to Rebecca.
Frozen in her chair, Rebecca felt her hands curling around her skirt, the fingers straining in her anger.
Why am I angry? He is not mine to claim!
The greater the distance between them, the more certain she became that the kiss she had thought he was going for that afternoon was in her imagination.
It was simply my heart creating what it wished to happen. He cares no more for me than any other lady. Evidently…
The thought burned surprisingly deeply as she watched the Duke turning the music for Lady Esther, attentive at her side.
“Do they not make a fine couple?” a voice gushed nearby.
Rebecca initially thought the Countess of Elkins was talking about Eliza and Lord Herberton, but as Rebecca turned to look at the Countess, she saw she was quite wrong. The Countess was talking of her own daughter, gesturing between Lady Esther and the Duke.
“Quite so,” the Dowager Duchess said with a smile at her side.
“I do look forward to the day a longed-for event takes place,” the Countess pretended to whisper with a chuckle. Rebecca stiffened, turning her gaze sharply back to the Duke another time.
Are they to be wed?
She’d heard of whispers of course, and Lady Esther was clear in her preference for the Duke, but was it possible her friend had been cagey about his own desires? Did he intend to marry Lady Esther after all?
Rebecca shakily stood to her feet.
“Is all well, Rebecca?” Amelia asked from her side, rather distractedly, her gaze still mostly turned on Eliza.
“I am well, Mama,” Rebecca answered quickly. “I merely need some air. I will be back shortly.” As no more fuss was made of her departure, Rebecca quickly left the room, startled by how the moment she stepped out of the door, her body capitulated. She thrust a hand to her chest and buckled forward, as if in physical pain.
He will marry her, will he not? Why else do their mothers talk about it so openly!?
Rebecca had to escape, at once! Not knowing where to go, she wandered through the doors in the corridor, sometimes lit by candles, other times draped in darkness. Eventually she found the one room that had brought her solace since coming to stay at Lord Herberton’s house, the library.
She hastened inside and lit a candle, before she turned in a small circle, thrusting her hands into her hair in frustration.
“I have no claim on him. No reason to be heartbroken at this news.”
Yet she was. She felt as if her head was bleeding, the dregs coming out of her gown and dripping down her chest. Unable to stand still, she paced up and down the room for some time, finding her feelings being captured in a few errant lines of poetry. Some time, she would have to write them down.
…a heart freely given, even though it was never asked for, nor wanted…
…shriveled, dry, any feeling left in it dredged, like the sap in the bark from a tree, dripped and drained away…
There was a sound at the door. Rebecca lowered her hands from her hair and turned toward it, not expecting someone to interrupt her mad thoughts. The door opened and a figure stepped inside, before he closed the door behind him. His gaze meeting hers hurriedly, without a chaperone beside him.
