Marrying her Best-Friend - Fiona Miers Page 0,2
directly at her.
“Yes, Lady Margaret?” Lizzie inquired, forcing a smile.
“Do you have a moment to spare? There is something we must ask you,” Margaret answered, with no regard for correct forms of address.
Margaret was the daughter of a duke, as Lizzie was, but Lady Margaret considered herself a much higher rank and class. She was a spoiled young woman who only used people as she saw fit in order to obtain what she wished, and threw her father’s fortune in everyone’s faces.
“And what might that be?” Lizzie inquired.
“How much did your brother pay Lord Dorset to inform everyone that the tales he told of you were untrue?” Margaret asked, and her group of cronies giggled behind her.
Lizzie’s eyes narrowed, but she would not allow these women to upset her.
“Perhaps you should stop pretending that you are such a saint, Lady Margaret. We all know what activities you and Lord Niall partake in the stables.” Lizzie sighed.
Lady Margaret raised a brow at her and crossed her arms. “And this comes from a woman who spends more time on her back than anyone in Somerset.”
“As opposed to bent over a hay bale?” Lizzie countered.
Lady Margaret expelled a gasp and shook her head. “Is Carson aware of your dalliances? Surely, he would not want you if he were to find out about you and Lord Quinton. His mother—”
“Do not dare speak of things of which you have no knowledge,” Lizzie exploded. “Every single tale Lord Dorset has spread of me is false. I am not a promiscuous woman, but I do not require anyone to believe me. I don’t give a fig what anyone thinks of me, least of all you. You know nothing of life, and I pity you more than anything.”
As Margaret’s eyes widened in shock, Lizzie whirled around and moved to the refreshment table. She grabbed a bottle of wine, not caring in the least how unladylike she appeared, and stomped out of the ballroom towards the terrace. She rushed down the narrow steps and disappeared into the night, still clutching the wine.
Chapter Two
Carson made his way through the ballroom, leaving the whispers of the gossips behind. He had witnessed the verbal confrontation between Lizzie and Lady Margaret along with her group of ignorant and judgmental ladies. In his opinion, they were anything but ladies. They were cruel and unkind.
He had not imagined however, that Lizzie would ever speak such harsh truths to Lady Margaret, or anyone else, for that matter. She was clearly fed up with Lady Margaret, or everything that she was going through had finally caught up with her.
He had known of the situation that involved Lizzie and Lord Dorset, but after a lengthy discussion with Will, he knew there was no truth to the rumours being spread, much to his great relief. He could not bear the thought of Lizzie being with another man, especially not one such as Lord Dorset.
He’d had feelings for Lizzie since he was a young boy, but he had never felt he could measure up. She was the daughter of a duke, and despite his own family’s reputation and status, he was convinced that she was much too good for him. She deserved to be courted by a man with a title, not someone like him.
It had pained him through the years as he watched her be courted by young gentlemen, but he had remained silent. He’d kept his feelings to himself, and at the time he was convinced it was better that way. But he had spent many of his nights thinking of Lizzie and imagining what his life would have been like had he possessed the courage to make his feelings known.
However, the thought of her rejecting him was one of his worst fears.
Despite his general confidence, the only fear he possessed was watching the woman whom he’d loved for most of his existence live a happy life without him.
The cool night air brushed against his face as he stepped onto the terrace and caught sight of Lizzie, who steadily stomped towards the hayloft, clutching the bottle of wine she had pilfered from the refreshment table. He had never seen her act as erratically as she had tonight, but he didn’t blame her in the least. He was uncertain of exactly what Lady Margaret had said to her, but it had to have been rather upsetting for her to retaliate in such a way.
Carson descended the narrow steps that led to the side of the manor house, and in