O Night Divine A Holiday Collection of Spirited Christmas Tales - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,36

Oliver allowed his gaze to lock with Miss Elizabeth Burkhart’s for just a moment, before giving a slight nod and walking away.

“Why did you do that?” Elizabeth demanded after they’d climbed inside the waiting carriage.

The dowager duchess shrugged. “Because he’s interesting. And quite handsome, don’t you think? I may have very little use for men given my advanced years and general disdain for them, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate one when he’s particularly attractive. Why on earth should you mind it? I’d rather think you, given that you are a woman unfettered by the rules of society, would enjoy having a handsome man about!”

“What exactly does that mean?” Elizabeth demanded.

“You can’t fall from grace twice, my dear,” the dowager duchess reminded her. “Well, you can, but only if you’ve managed to return to grace… and, alas, you have not.”

The carriage hit a particularly deep rut in the road, sending them bouncing about inside it. Immediately, the dowager duchess thumped on the ceiling with her cane. “Mind yourself up there! I’m old and frail!”

“Frail! Ha! You’re a manipulative old witch!” Elizabeth snapped. “How could you invite him? Do you have any idea what this will do to me?”

The dowager duchess leveled a hard and unrelenting stare at her, indicating, without words, exactly how displeased she was with that description. “Mind your tongue, Miss Burkhart!”

“I’m not your employee and I’m not Lillian who will tolerate your managing ways. I’ve been navigating this world on my own for a number of years, your grace,” Elizabeth continued. “I do not need you playing matchmaker for me!”

“Clearly, you need someone to play matchmaker for you. You’ve scarce looked at a man since I’ve known you!”

“Why would I?” Elizabeth replied challengingly. “Romantic entanglements lead to nothing but pain. Men, barring your grandson, cannot be trusted. And I’m not even entirely certain I trust him. If he hurts my Lilly—”

“He adores her,” the dowager duchess insisted. “Just as I knew that he would all along. Now, hush. Men can be terribly disappointing creatures. But they certainly have their uses. You are a young woman still, Elizabeth. You need not live like a nun. I’m not suggesting you marry Lord Whittendon, but there’s no harm in a bit of flirtation assuming you both know that’s all it is.”

“There is harm, your grace. His estate, the family seat, borders my father’s property. No doubt, he’s putting the names together even now and realizing that the woman he was just introduced to is the scandalous harlot who is daughter to his closest neighbor,” Elizabeth replied.

It had been so nice, that first moment the night before, when he’d looked at her as if she were simply a beautiful woman he wished to know. But now, by some cruel twist of fate, it seemed that the man who’d drawn her eye and who’d made her heart beat just a bit faster, would be forever out of her reach. Surely no man of such an elevated station, and certainly not one who had likely been regaled by tales of her wickedness by half of Derbyshire, would want anything to do with her!

“Do not count him out just yet, my dear,” the dowager duchess warned. “I think you may underestimate the man. I certainly hope you do. I know without question that you underestimate yourself. You, Elizabeth, are more than the errors of your past.”

Chapter Six

It was a ludicrous thing, really, but Burney couldn’t help himself. He was quite nervous as he stood next to the fireplace in the drawing room wringing his hands. Being non-corporeal in nature, hand wringing was foolish. But since no one could see him do it, he supposed it didn’t really matter. He just so desperately wanted it to go well. It wasn’t only for his own benefit, either. There was an unhappiness in Elizabeth, a deep shame which he recognized. She had loved William Satterly, or at the very least had loved the idea of him, who he represented himself to be. She blamed herself for loving him even more than she blamed him for lying to her and deceiving her as he had, Burney thought.

The house was bedecked for the coming holiday. Holly, ivy and various evergreen garlands were draped on the mantels and windows. But there was no tree. It seemed that the dowager duchess had no interest in following the fashions set by Queen Charlotte. But that surprised him not at all.

Almost as if his thoughts had summoned her, the dowager duchess entered