Always the Widow (Never the Bride #9) - Emily E.K. Murdoch Page 0,1
but she managed to place it into Theodosia’s hands. There. It was done. It was gone, and she would never have to look at the damned thing again.
Theodosia looked curious and lifted up the lid. The sunlight pouring into the great hall hit the pile of jewels within the box: diamonds, emeralds, pearls, the Lenskeyn brooch…
Theodosia gasped and looked at her husband, but he had not taken his eyes from Elizabeth.
“The Lenskeyn family jewels,” he said with a knowing smile.
It was now, Elizabeth knew that she could be unmasked—but all she had to do was stay calm. If she acted as though this was all normal, with no hidden secret, then they would never suspect.
If only her heart would listen to reason. It was fluttering frantically, sure they would notice what was wrong.
She nodded as calmly as she could. “They are yours now. They belong, rightfully, to the Countess of Lenskeyn.”
“But they are yours by right,” Albemarle said reasonably. “My brother Elmore gave them to you, and you should keep them.”
His wife agreed. Shutting the lid firmly, she tried to place the box back into Elizabeth’s hands, but she would have none of it. The damned things were gone, and she would never accept them back. They told too many sorry tales of lies and deceit for her to be happy to have them back.
Remnants of Elmore’s gambling and money lending, she would never touch them again. Perhaps Theodosia, without knowing their true history, would be able to enjoy them.
“I would really rather you keep them,” Elizabeth said, trying not to sound too forceful. “Elmore died over a month ago, and…well. They belong to your family. I was only borrowing them, really.”
Squeezing Theodosia’s arm in what she hoped would be considered sisterly affection, Elizabeth forced her feet away from the happy couple.
Behind her, she heard a footmen mutter, “May I take that for you, your ladyship?”
“What—oh, yes. Please put them in a safe place, and I will consider what to do with them later,” came Theodosia’s voice. “Albie, we should have Lady Howard—Elizabeth, isn’t it? We should have Elizabeth stay with us.”
Elizabeth colored. She did not want their pitying remarks, hated their discomfort at her own loss. Loss? Elmore’s death was no loss.
“Family is important,” she heard Albemarle reply. “We should not let her be on her own, not at the moment.”
Elizabeth almost laughed as she entered the drawing room. Alone? She had been alone these five years, and her heart hardened as she thought back to all she had done. After her actions, she did not deserve the pity of the Howards. They saw her as an object of misery because she was a widow, but what had she done as a Howard? Betrayed their trust, betrayed the whole family.
They would never know, naturally, but she did. She would have to live with what she had done for the rest of her life. As long as the dowager countess never found out…
The room was heaving with society’s finest, all laughing and drinking, toasting the happy couple and teasing young ladies about when it would be their time.
There was no place for her here. Elizabeth walked slowly around the edge of the room, and anyone she looked at turned away. She would have taken it amiss if she had not been wearing widow’s weeds.
No one likes to talk to the widow at a wedding.
Elizabeth’s stomach swooped painfully, and a wave of nausea washed over her. She steadied herself by placing a hand on the wall and looked around for a seat, but all were taken.
Her guilt only increased. It was like a sort of punishment, but then she could not complain. Not after wanting it for so long—not after the miracle which had been handed to her.
Walking through the doorway into the ballroom, music reached her ears along with the laughter of four dancing couples. Elizabeth saw Mrs. Lymington, a woman who had attended her tea party just a week ago, watching the dance.
“Mrs. Lymington,” she said as warmly as she could.
But her warmth was not reciprocated. Mrs. Lymington stared, her nose wrinkling as though she had just smelled something that had died, and she walked away without saying a word.
Elizabeth’s cheeks burned as she glanced around to see whether anyone else had spotted this discourtesy.
Society’s rules stated clearly that widows should not attend weddings, but she had been hard-pressed to say no. It was her late husband’s brother, after all, and more importantly, the head of the Howard house.