The Pursuit of Pleasure by Elizabeth Essex Read Free Book Online Page A

taken rooms at the Red Harte.” Jamie spoke evenly, in an easy, matter-of-fact tone, but the skin on the back of Lizzie’s neck and on her cheeks began to prickle with heat.
    How ridiculous. It should be a relief to know Jamie had made such plans to keep the nature of their arrangement private. It was a relief to know the details of their marriage would not be made privy to her parents, nor to every servant in the house.
    “You’d be better served to stay here.” Papa’s voice was rough and dogged. He must have finally imbibed enough wine to make him overcome his stubborn silence.
    “Papa,” Lizzie tried to appeal to him quietly, to reassure him she was quite safe with Jamie. “I’m sure Jamie’s arrangements are more than suitable. I am entirely at my husband’s disposal.”
    Oh, fie. That didn’t come out as all as she had intended, and it rather had the opposite effect upon Papa, who was turning an alarming shade of aubergine.
    “Take her and be done, then!” Her father’s hand slammed down flat on the table, his anger overflowing like the red wine he’d been drinking, spilling over the brim and shocking them all into silence.
    “You mark my words. You’ll come to regret this wild start, Elizabeth. What’s to become of you, I don’t know. You’re a good enough girl, but wild and headstrong. I’ve done everything in my power to see you safe. To keep you safe. Even from yourself. But there’s nothing more I can do for you now. You’ve chosen where I would have you not.”
    He didn’t even look at Jamie as he let the words fall like stones from his mouth. Her father’s eyes bored into hers, until she closed her own in mortification at his angry, damning denouncements.
    “So be it,” he went on, oblivious to the shocked silence. “You have made your proverbial bed, and now you must lie upon it. But not under my roof. Take yourself off to the Red Harte and bedamned to you!”
    Lizzie could feel her composure crack, humiliation etching its way across her face like hot acid.
    She ought to be used to Papa’s tirades by now. She ought to be immune to the casual rage that erupted whenever they were at cross-purposes. Which was too often. His careless words, like so many others over the years, made her angry and more than a little sad. They left a sour, unhappy taste in her mouth.
    Lizzie faltered for only a moment, long enough for Jamie to rise from his seat and turn to squarely face her father. Oh, no. She refused to let this ridiculous exhibition escalate into a confrontation between Jamie and her father. She couldn’t let the day be completely ruined beyond all hope. She could not change her father, though Lord knows she had tried, but she could ignore him. It was her only defense.
    She pushed her own shoulders back and quickly rose from her chair, forcing her mouth into a smile and acting as if Papa had never said a word.
    “Thank you, Mama, for a lovely breakfast. Mrs. Marlowe, Reverend Marlowe, I thank you. I see Cushing has called for your carriage. Jamie, would you be so kind as to take your mother’s arm?”
    Her father’s butler, Cushing, God bless him, was as used to the Squire’s edicts as any man, and was already stationed by the front door, armed with a capacious umbrella to ward off the drizzle.
    Lizzie couldn’t bring herself to look at Jamie. She wouldn’t. It would be too deeply mortifying to see either knowing, laughing superiority, or, God forbid, pity in his eyes. So she just tipped her chin up, smiled as if she couldn’t care less about the outburst, and escorted Reverend Marlowe out of the dining room and towards the foyer.
    A light touch at the base of her spine, an impression of heat, was all she felt of Jamie, before he came past to escort his mother to the door and the waiting carriage.
    Lizzie saw them all to the door but disentangled herself before she was required to give anything but a murmured farewell.
    Then she moved quickly, making a break for the stairs. But