Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

" M y, I didn't realize I'd be seeing the Duchess instead." Lady Winston swiveled in her chair upon Elizabeth's entrance, a pleasant smile on her lips. The lightness of her tone, however, gave Elizabeth pause.

For a brief moment, Elizabeth's brows furrowed, though she quickly schooled her expression, choosing not to dwell on the Countess's remark. What business could this woman have with her husband? And why was it so urgent that she couldn't wait until their honeymoon had ended?

"Then again, I should have sent word of my visit beforehand," Lady Winston chuckled lightly, as though the lack of courtesy was nothing more than an amusing oversight.

Elizabeth moved to the bell and rang for tea, all the while trying to gather her thoughts. "I didn't realize you were acquainted with the Duke," she said, her voice carefully measured.

"Oh, Alexander and I have been good friends for years," Lady Winston replied smoothly, her use of his given name as casual as if they were in the midst of a private conversation. The ease with which the widow addressed her husband sent a small ripple of discomfort through Elizabeth. She swallowed, willing herself not to dwell on the implications. But still, the question lingered—what manner of friendship existed between a widowed Countess and a Duke?

"I'm afraid the Duke is not home at present," Elizabeth said, her tone polite but firm.

"So I was told," the Countess replied, her air of nonchalance unwavering, as if Alexander's absence meant little to her. "I suppose I should offer my felicitations on your marriage then, Lady Elizabeth," she added, a smile curving her lips.

Elizabeth's grip tightened slightly on the arm of her chair. Lady Elizabeth . The title, so pointedly used, struck her with the force of a subtle jab. Was it deliberate? Did Lady Winston mean to dismiss her newly acquired status as Duchess, or was this some casual disregard?

"Thank you," Elizabeth replied, her voice steady despite the unease twisting inside her.

"The country air never disappoints, does it? You're practically glowing, Lady Elizabeth," Lady Winston said with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Or is it the marriage?" she added with a curious air, her gaze sweeping over Elizabeth in a way that made her skin prickle with discomfort.

Elizabeth forced a smile, though inwardly, she felt the tightness of uncertainty growing. "Could be both," she responded, trying to sound pleasant while attempting to collect her scattered thoughts.

Lady Winston's eyes gleamed with something—satisfaction, perhaps—as she leaned forward slightly. "Oh, I wouldn't be surprised. Alexander knows how to take care of a woman. I am sure you know that now," she said with a shameless chuckle, the implication hanging heavily in the air between them.

Elizabeth's stomach turned. If she had entertained any doubt before, Lady Winston's words all but confirmed her worst suspicions. There was no mistaking the allusion, no hiding from the truth now glaringly clear: Alexander had a mistress. And that mistress, it seemed, was Lady Winston.

The realization stung, sharper than she had expected. Why it hurt so much, she could not fully understand. After all, it was hardly unusual for a man of Alexander's rank to have had a mistress, especially one who had been a bachelor for so long. But still, the thought of it—of him—carved a hollow ache into her chest.

Even as her heart squeezed painfully, Elizabeth maintained her smile, her composure intact. She could not afford to let her emotions show. Not now. Not in front of this woman. "We all have our talents, I suppose," she managed, her voice tight. "And being a gentleman is one of my husband's."

She prayed that she was wrong, that the insinuations were nothing more than baseless gossip. But the confidence with which Lady Winston spoke, the brazenness of her words—it was difficult to believe otherwise. And the fact that the widow had followed them all the way to the country, during their honeymoon no less, only made it worse.

Would Alexander's relationship with her truly remain in the past? The nagging doubt clawed at her as she glanced at Lady Winston once more. The woman exuded familiarity, as if she had a claim on Alexander that Elizabeth, his wife, did not yet understand.

The arrival of the tea offered a brief respite from the tension, and Elizabeth moved to serve them, her hands steady despite the storm roiling within her.

Lady Winston continued without missing a beat, her voice sweet but edged with something darker. "I ought to have waited for Alexander to return to Town to give my felicitations on his marriage, but I'm afraid some unpleasant news I heard couldn't wait. I simply had to pass it along to him immediately."

Elizabeth paused, her heart skipping a beat. "Unpleasant news?"

"The scandal, I'm afraid, seems to have left plenty of dust behind," Lady Winston remarked, taking a graceful sip of her tea. Her voice was calm, but the weight of her words settled heavily in the room.

Elizabeth remained outwardly composed, but inside, her stomach twisted with apprehension. She waited, her hands steady on the delicate teacup, though her heart raced as she sensed something far worse coming.

"Society spreads rumor of an affair between you and Sterlin's brother. An affair they believe you are carrying into your marriage," Lady Winston continued, confirming the dread that had been simmering beneath the surface.

The words hit Elizabeth like a physical blow. She felt the color drain from her face, a wave of nausea rising in her throat. How twisted the aristocracy could be, to weave such vile fabrications. She could hardly breathe for the sickness and humiliation that gripped her.

"I thought it best to warn Alexander at once of these lies before they got out of hand, of course," Lady Winston went on, her tone light as though she were speaking of some trivial matter. But her words were filled with something darker—a sense of satisfaction, perhaps, in delivering such damning news.

"But now that I've told you, I am sure there is nothing to worry about. And that these rumors are just the lies they have always been?" she added, her gaze sharp, the question in her statement more pointed than Elizabeth had expected. The skepticism in Lady Winston's green eyes was unmistakable, her disbelief thinly veiled behind a polite smile.

Elizabeth swallowed hard, summoning every ounce of control she had. She could not let this woman see how deeply the rumors had shaken her. Instead, she returned Lady Winston's gaze with an unperturbed smile. "Why, I should think a woman of your caliber would be able to tell the truth apart from falsities in such rumors," she replied, her voice steady and calm, though her insides churned.

Lady Winston's eyes widened slightly, clearly taken aback by Elizabeth's unexpected composure. But she recovered quickly, her expression smoothing over with practiced grace. "That is why I thought to break the news to you and possibly nip the rumors in the bud soon."

"How very thoughtful of you," Elizabeth responded with cool politeness, reaching for a sugar-coated cookie as though nothing at all had unsettled her. She took a small bite, though the sweetness barely registered. "The gesture will be remembered," she added, her words carrying a subtle edge.

"I am sure Alexander–" Lady Winston began again, clearly not yet finished.

"Will find the rumors as interesting as I do," Elizabeth interrupted, her tone firm but light, cutting off whatever further venom the woman might have wished to spread.

Lady Winston's face stiffened, a flicker of discomfort passing over her features as she reached for her tea once more. It seemed the conversation had not gone as she had expected.

Elizabeth, however, felt her appetite vanish entirely. The afternoon with Lady Winston had left a bitter taste in her mouth, one that no amount of tea or sweets could ever wash away.

At dinner time, Elizabeth made the decision to seek her husband out rather than force herself to sit through another lonely meal. The weight of Lady Winston's visit lingered heavily on her, and she could no longer bear the silence of the dining room.

She found Alexander in the one room he seemed to favor for his self-imposed isolation. The moment she stepped inside, he glanced up, his brow lifting in mild surprise.

"Isn't it time for dinner?" he asked, a hint of amusement lacing his tone.

"I should say the same to you," she countered, stepping further into the room.

He straightened, his expression shifting slightly. "I did not marry you to have you skipping your meals and starving yourself, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth's heart gave a painful twist. Like he cared, she thought bitterly. His concern rang hollow to her ears, given the distance he had kept between them. Still, she pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the matter that had driven her here.

"You had a caller earlier," she said, ignoring his remark as she folded her hands before her, doing her best to sound casual.

His brow rose higher, curiosity flashing in his eyes. "Oh?"

"Lady Winston was most disappointed when she was told you were out," Elizabeth continued, keeping her tone light, though her stomach churned at the memory.

"Georgianna called?" he blurted before quickly correcting himself, "I mean, the Countess was here?"

Elizabeth noticed the brief slip, and it sent a fresh wave of hurt coursing through her. The way his expression shifted—something unspoken passing over his features—was all the confirmation she needed.

She swallowed the lump rising in her throat, trying to steady her voice. "Oh, do not seem overly surprised, Alexander," she said, her words cutting. "After all, I am sure you wouldn't be the first man in England to be paid a visit by his mistress during what is supposed to be his honeymoon."

His expression darkened instantly, his brow furrowing in confusion and displeasure. "The Countess is not my mistress, Elizabeth. Wherever did you get such a notion from?"

Elizabeth's chest tightened at the earnestness in his voice, but the hurt from Lady Winston's visit still burned fiercely within her. "I'm afraid her visit and your relationship couldn't have been clearer even to a blind man," she retorted, her voice betraying the sting of her emotions.

Alexander's eyes narrowed, and his tone grew more serious. "Do not make assumptions and conclusions without any basis," he warned.

"Oh, but the Countess gave me all the basis I needed," she replied, her words sharp as she met his gaze head-on, refusing to back down.

He exhaled, his patience clearly thinning. "Did she mention why she called?" he asked, his tone more measured now, though there was an edge of frustration beneath it.

Elizabeth's composure was slipping, the anger and pain she had been holding back now spilling forth. "Perhaps you should return her call and ask her yourself," she suggested coldly, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice.

The room seemed to grow heavier with the weight of their silence. Finally, Alexander spoke again, his voice low but firm. "There is nothing between me and that woman, Elizabeth," he repeated, his eyes locking with hers.

For a fleeting moment, something about the way he spoke, the earnestness in his expression, made her hesitate. There was a sincerity in his voice that almost made her want to believe him.

But who was she fooling? This was no business of hers. She was not truly married to Alexander, not in the way a wife should be. Whatever affairs he conducted and with whomever he pleased, it was no concern of hers. They had entered into an arrangement, nothing more—an arrangement to protect both their family honors after the unfortunate misunderstandings that had brought them to this point.

Elizabeth swallowed hard, the bitter reality settling in her chest. She had to accept it. This was her life now.

"She claimed to have called to give you a warning about some… unpleasant rumors she'd heard in society about our marriage," she said, keeping her voice as even as she could. "Specifically, about me."

Alexander's brow furrowed, his gaze darkening with curiosity. "And those are?"

Elizabeth hesitated for the briefest moment before continuing, the words tasting foul as they passed her lips. "Society believes me to be in an affair with your brother despite my marriage to you," she said quietly, the humiliation rising within her as she spoke.

Alexander ran a hand through his hair in frustration, his expression hardening. "Good heavens," he muttered, his voice heavy with exasperation. "Will the troubles never end?"

He let out a long breath, his hand running over his face. "Was that all she said?" he asked.

"All that you will not deny," Elizabeth replied, her voice sharper than she intended. She was tired—tired of the secrecy, the suspicions, the distance between them. The pain that had been simmering inside her boiled over, and for once, she didn't care if her words cut.

Alexander's jaw tightened, his expression hardening at her insinuation. She saw the anger flare in his eyes, but she was too hurt, too humiliated, to care about his feelings in that moment.

The tension in the room was palpable, the silence thick with unspoken words. Finally, Elizabeth broke it, her tone more controlled but no less determined. "The Viscountess of Compton has sent us invitations to her assembly," she said, deciding that she might as well speak her mind while they had the opportunity for conversation. It wasn't often that she had his attention.

"If indeed there is an element of truth to what the Countess said," she continued, "and those rumors are circulating, then I believe making a public appearance together might help to douse them somewhat." She hoped her words would encourage him, that he might see reason in her suggestion.

Alexander remained silent for a long time, his gaze distant as though he were weighing her words carefully. The tension between them stretched, the quiet almost suffocating.

At last, he spoke, his voice low and measured. "I shall think about it."

Hardly reassuring, Elizabeth thought bitterly as she turned to leave his study.