Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

" E liza," Lady Lymington's sharp voice cut through the quietness of the breakfast room. "It has been weeks since the announcement of your engagement. Why has the Duke not contacted your cousin, the Viscount, to discuss the details?"

Eliza was attempting to enjoy her meal, but her aunt's presence loomed over her like a storm cloud.

The morning sun streamed through the tall windows, casting soft light across the polished floors and the elegantly set table.

Eliza glanced up, meeting her aunt's steely gaze. Lady Lymington, dressed in her usual severe fashion, looked every inch the domineering matron, her sharp eyes narrowing with impatience as she paced the room.

"Aunt, he will contact him in time," Eliza replied, trying to keep her voice calm. "These things often take longer than we expect."

Lady Lymington stopped pacing, fixing Eliza with a cold stare. "These things take time? Since when have you become an expert in the marriage mart? We do not have the luxury of time, Eliza. The season will be over soon, and people are already wondering why there has been no formal announcement."

Eliza gripped her fork tightly, her knuckles turning white. "His Grace is very busy, Aunt. He has his estate to manage and many other responsibilities. I am sure he will reach out to the Viscount when he finds the appropriate moment."

"Busy?" Lady Lymington's tone was laced with disdain. "An engagement to a duke is not a matter to be taken lightly. You must ensure that he follows through with his promises. We cannot afford to have this engagement fall apart."

"I understand, Aunt," Eliza replied, forcing herself to remain composed despite the growing anxiety in her chest. "I will speak with him."

Lady Lymington took a step closer, her voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "Eliza, do you realize the gravity of this situation? If he does not formalize this engagement soon, your reputation will be in tatters. You will end up alone, a burden on this family."

"I will speak with him," Eliza repeated, the words tasting bitter in her mouth.

She knew what was at stake, but the pressure was suffocating.

"See that you do," her aunt sneered. "And remember, if this engagement falls apart, you will have no one to blame but yourself."

Lady Lymington turned to leave, but Eliza could not hold back any longer. "You assume the worst of me, Aunt. Perhaps if you showed a little more faith?—"

"Faith?" Lady Lymington cut her off, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You have given me no reason to have faith in you, Eliza. Your entire future depends on this, and so far, you have done nothing but prove yourself a liability. If this falls apart, you will be back with Mrs. West, mark my words."

Eliza stared at her, anger and hurt swirling inside her. "I will not fail."

"You had better not," Lady Lymington snapped before sweeping out of the room, leaving Eliza alone with her thoughts and the heavy burden of her aunt's expectations.

Eliza remained seated, the echo of her aunt's words ringing in her ears. She forced herself to take a deep breath. The pressure was unbearable, but she would not let it crush her.

She would speak with Anthony, and she would find a way to make this work.

For now, that was all she could do.

Eliza stood near the edge of the dance floor at the next ball. Her aunt was occupied catching up with a friend, which allowed Eliza a few moments to breathe.

She was so used to never being asked to dance that she did not even try to act like she was expecting someone to approach her. Even though she had seen Anthony enter the ballroom, he had not yet come to find her.

As she watched the dancers swirl around the room, Eliza felt a presence beside her. She turned to see Lord Winston, a distinguished gentleman with silver hair and kind eyes. She jumped, startled to find him so close.

"Miss Huxley, would you do me the honor of this dance?" Lord Winston asked, extending his hand.

Despite Lord Winston being another widower who could be her father, Eliza smiled graciously and placed her hand in his. She had danced with him a couple of times throughout the season and found him kind and a good conversationalist.

"Of course, Lord Winston. I would be delighted."

As they moved onto the dance floor, Eliza felt Anthony's eyes on her. He stood at the other side of the room, his gaze intense as he watched her. She tried to avoid his gaze, but even as she started the dance with Lord Winston, she could not help but notice Anthony staring at her, his expression dark and brooding.

The dance was pleasant, and Lord Winston proving to be as kind a partner as always. "You dance beautifully, Miss Huxley," he complimented her as they twirled around the room.

"Thank you, My Lord," Eliza replied, her cheeks flushing with pleasure. "You are a wonderful dancer yourself."

"You should have seen me when I was your age," he said with a wink. "I am afraid I am quite out of practice. I have left the dancing to my children as of late."

"How is your daughter?" Eliza asked him. "Did I hear she recently married?"

"Ah yes, I am very proud of her," Lord Winston replied, pleased Eliza remembered. "I do hope the same for you, my dear. Of course, I know better than to make an offer for you myself, but I do appreciate that you indulge this old man."

Eliza laughed at his self-awareness, relieved to know he would not be pursuing her. He put her at ease, allowing her to enjoy their dance more.

Even as she laughed, though, she caught a glimpse of Anthony's dour expression again.

As the dance ended, Lord Winston escorted her back to the edge of the dance floor toward her aunt. However, she did not quite make it back to the wall before another lord, Lord Stanhope, eagerly approached her.

"Miss Huxley, may I have the honor of the next dance?" Lord Stanhope asked with a charming smile.

Lord Stanhope still had dark hair and much fewer wrinkles than Lord Winston, but Eliza could only guess he was much older than her.

Eliza hesitated for a moment, glancing in Anthony's direction. His expression had darkened even more, and she could see the tension in his posture. Despite this, she nodded to Lord Stanhope, not wanting to appear rude.

"Of course, Lord Stanhope," she agreed, allowing him to lead her onto the dance floor.

As they danced, Eliza could feel Anthony's gaze burning into her. It was becoming increasingly difficult to concentrate on her dance partner, knowing that Anthony was watching her every move.

Lord Stanhope was pleasant enough, engaging her in light conversation about the latest social events and gossip.

"You seem to be quite the sensation tonight, Miss Huxley," Lord Stanhope remarked with a smile. "It is a pleasure to see you so well-regarded by the gentlemen of the ton."

Eliza laughed softly, trying to hide her discomfort. "Thank you, My Lord. It is always nice to be in good company."

As the dance ended, Lord Stanhope escorted her back to the edge of the dance floor, only for another gentleman, Lord Blackwood, to step forward.

"Miss Huxley, may I have the pleasure of this dance?" Lord Blackwood asked, his eyes gleaming with interest.

"I—"

Before Eliza could continue, she felt a strong hand on her arm.

She turned to see Anthony, his jaw clenched and his eyes blazing with jealousy. Her breath caught in her throat, and she stared up at him wide eyed.

"Miss Huxley is already promised for this dance," Anthony said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Lord Blackwood looked surprised, glancing between Eliza and Anthony. "Of course, Your Grace. I did not know. Congratulations on your engagement."

"Thank you," Anthony said briskly, taking Eliza's elbow to lead her toward the ballroom floor.

"That was a bit rude of you," Eliza whispered to him, trying to pull away from his grasp, but he held firmly.

Anthony did not respond to her, only letting go of her to take position for a waltz. Eliza could see his jaw clenching as he placed his hand on the small of her back.

"What has gotten into you?" she demanded, getting irritated. He avoided her eyes as they started dancing. "You've ignored me ever since I arrived and then interrupted me as soon as I started enjoying myself."

"You are enjoying yourself with old men now, hmm?" Anthony laughed mockingly. "Well then, perhaps we can end this sham now and let your aunt pawn you off on one of them."

With a deepening frown, Eliza scoffed. "Dancing with a man does not mean I want to marry him. After all, I am dancing with you."

"Oh, you do not want to marry me after all?" Anthony asked, raising his eyebrow. "Then should we discuss the benefits of our arrangement some more?"

"That is not what I meant," Eliza protested. "Why are you acting like this?"

"You said that I did not come to you, but might I point out that you very well could have come to me."

"You seemed to make it abundantly clear that you did not want to speak to me," Eliza argued then gasped with shock. "You are jealous!"

"Jealous?" Anthony scoffed. He looked away again.

"Oh yes," Eliza raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile on her lips. "You are jealous! You could not stand to see me dancing with anyone else but you."

Anthony's gaze snapped back to hers, his eyes intense as he leaned in close, his voice low and almost a growl.

"Fine. Call it what you wish. But now, you are mine, Eliza. And no one else touches what's mine."

Eliza's breath caught in her throat at the intensity in Anthony's gaze.

For a moment, the room seemed to shrink around them, the air thick with tension. She could feel the heat radiating from him, the possessiveness in his words sending a shiver down her spine.

"Anthony," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

She wasn't sure if it was fear or something else entirely that made her pulse quicken. "You can't just?—"

"I can," he interrupted, his voice low and commanding. "And I will."

His words left no room for argument, and Eliza found herself caught between defiance and the undeniable pull he had on her.

She had always been strong-willed, but the raw intensity in Anthony's eyes made her feel uncharacteristically vulnerable.

So, she danced on her tip toes for a few steps to whisper closer to his ear. "I am sure I could find several other gentlemen to dance with tonight. Perhaps run into Lord Blackwood at the refreshments table."

"Do you enjoy playing dangerous games?" Anthony asked her, holding on to her more tightly.

Eliza's teasing smile faltered, wondering if she was pushing Anthony too hard.

But the bold part of her, the part of her that her aunt detested so much that she had her sent off to Mrs. West, prevailed.

She tilted her head, her lips brushing against the edge of his jaw as she replied, "And what if I want to see how far you'll go?"

"You are treading very dangerous waters, Eliza. Do not provoke me, or you will not like the consequences."

"What if I am not afraid of these consequences?" she whispered, her chin still up.

Anthony's eyes flashed with something dark and unreadable, and for a moment, she thought she had gone too far. But then he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he spoke, his voice sending a thrill through her.

"Be warned, Eliza—I don't take kindly to being toyed with."

Anthony's grip on her tightened for a moment, and then he stepped back slightly as the music began to wind down, putting distance between them.

As they moved together, the rest of the world seemed to dissolve into the background, leaving only the irresistible pull between them.

Every brush of his hand, every glance, was a reminder of the dangerous game they were both playing—a game where the stakes were high. Too high.

Goodness, what was she doing, stoking the flames within a man who had no intention of marrying her? She wanted him desperately, the memory of his caresses, the ecstasy he'd pushed her into… She wanted to experience a consummate passion with him, to feel everything he had to offer.

As the dance ended, reality sank further in, and she curtseyed stiffly. "Thank you for the dance, Your Grace."

Before he could respond, she turned and hurried away, her cheeks burning with shame.

She needed to escape, to find a quiet place where she could collect her thoughts and compose herself. She glanced around the room, her vision blurring with unshed tears, and she spotted a doorway leading to a quiet terrace.

But her brief moment of solitude was quickly shattered as Lady Lymington stormed over, her face a mask of anger.

"Eliza, what on earth are you doing?"

Eliza looked up, trying to compose herself. "I needed a moment, Aunt."

Lady Lymington's gaze was sharp and unrelenting. "A moment? You just had a dance with the Duke of Redfern, and you scurry away like a frightened mouse? What is wrong with you?"

Eliza felt tears building up again, but she refused to let them fall. "It's nothing, Aunt. Please, let it go."

Lady Lymington's eyes flashed with anger. "Let it go? You are on the verge of securing one of the most advantageous marriages of the season, and you act like a child? Why did it take him so long to dance with you? Why was he so cold to you during the dance?"

Eliza's resolve wavered, but she tried to stay strong. "I do not know, Aunt. Perhaps he is feeling unwell."

"Or you made him feel unwell with your behavior and appearance," Lady Lymington hissed, her voice low and venomous. "You must not embarrass me like this. Do you think the Duke will tolerate such behavior? You are lucky he even gave you his time tonight."

Eliza clenched her fists, her emotions bubbling over. "You do not know his mind, Aunt. But it is not easy when?—"

"Enough!" Lady Lymington snapped, her voice cold and unforgiving. "You will go back and make conversation with him, and you will fix this. You will try to be charming and witty and enticing, Lord knows how. Do you understand me?"

Eliza took a deep breath, fighting to steady her voice. She met Lady Lymington's gaze with a newfound resolve, her eyes firm and unyielding.

"Aunt, I understand your concerns," she began, her tone measured and calm. "But I need a moment to myself. I just danced with the Duke, I am certain he can be entertained by the people at this ball until I return."

Lady Lymington's eyes widened with surprise at Eliza's defiance, but Eliza pressed on, her voice steady. "Before you say anything else, both he and our engagement will survive if I am absent for a few minutes."

Lady Lymington's mouth opened in shock, but Eliza held up a hand to forestall any further argument.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I need some air," she said firmly. "I'll be outside. Please do not follow me."

Without waiting for a response, Eliza turned and walked briskly toward the doorway leading to an empty balcony.

Her heart pounded as she stepped outside, grateful for the cool night air that met her.