B006O3T9DG EBOK by Linda Berdoll Read Free Book Online Page B

the ball a fortnight away, Elizabeth looked longingly at the lovely satin gown she had chosen. She touched the embroidery and shook her head with perturbation. It suddenly looked pale and uninspired. It was a useless business. No frock in time immortal could perform to her expectations. And even if her gown had been fit for a queen, she feared her figure would not do it justice. Pregnancy may have enhanced her bosom, but her waist was thickening far more hastily than she anticipated. She could tighten her corset only so much before it caused her to hiccup.
    As the seamstress pinned a flounce to the bottom of her skirt, her thoughts turned again to the former Juliette Clisson. She recalled that although she was one of the most stunningly exotic women in three countries, Juliette was older than Darcy—by perhaps five years. The new Lady Howgrave was entering what the cognoscenti liked to call the “years of danger.”
    Elizabeth stopped herself from such ruminations. She was perilously close to celebrating what might be construed as another’s misfortune. That was cruel. Rather, a different notion pleased her. There was a chance that the Howgraves would send their regrets. Lady Howgrave was known to be a woman of town. As Elizabeth knew well, it was far easier to be magnanimous from a distance.
    Mrs. Darcy had great confidence in Mr. Darcy’s fidelity. His good leg and handsome fortune, however, drew forward women like moths to a flame. Interceding on his behalf when they made pests of themselves was not her favourite occupation. Most were just innocent flirts. Lady Howgrave, however, was not a mere flirt and she most certainly was not guileless. Elizabeth did not for a moment believe that was a threat to their marriage. Regardless, the woman had employed unforgiving wiles in an attempt to make Elizabeth believe otherwise. There was no mistaking her designs.
    That was why when Elizabeth learnt of Juliette’s sudden marriage, one singular possibility troubled her.
    Those unsuspecting of Juliette’s past might have concluded that in marrying Sir Howgrave (a certified war hero), hers was a love match. Perhaps it was. As Elizabeth was not much of a believer in coincidences, she had come to another, less cheerful conclusion. Sir Howgrave’s charm may not have bewitched Juliette half so much as his manor—which lay not five miles from Pemberley.
    The manoeuvre might have vexed Elizabeth more had she not already known that an exchange of estates had been arranged between Howgrave and Bingley. There would be thirty miles between them, rather than five. She should not have desired such a reassurance, but she enjoyed it all the same.
    “Worry,” she reminded herself, “is the price one pays when borrowing trouble.”
    Her life was far too happy not to heed that caution. Unfortunately, it was a sad truth that when it came to arts and allurements, there is no device too paltry for some ladies to employ for captivation. Indeed, she held no fear for her husband’s affections. It was just another gambit that she would prefer not to have to deflect.
    For there were times when, despite all our finest defences, trouble not only comes to call, it draws up a chair.
 
    Chapter 11
    The Cost of Fame
 
 
    Sir Henry Howgrave, lately of Howgrave Manor, and Miss Juliette Clisson had an understanding. He would make her rich and she would make him famous. Each kept their promise.
    When a deal is made with devil, however, one can often end up sitting squat in the middle of Hell.
    ———
 
 
    Upon learning the principal reason for marrying Sir Henry Howgrave had evaporated beneath her tiny feet, Juliette threw herself into a well-hidden rage. She was almost ill with regret. In time, she stopped reproving herself for that which she could not alter (snits, after all, were generally unproductive) and took an account of her situation.
    Odious though the notion was, it had been imperative that she marry. Moreover, the match she had made was not