Chapter 25

CHAPTER 25

" O h, it's wonderful to see you again, Uncle," Elizabeth exclaimed, her voice brimming with warmth as she buried herself in her uncle's welcoming embrace.

"And even better to see you, my dear child," he responded, his arms enveloping her with a comforting squeeze. When he finally released her, his eyes shone with genuine affection. "Do have some lemonade, will you?" he offered, gesturing toward the refreshment on a nearby tray. "I had it brought in just before your arrival."

"Sounds marvelous," Elizabeth replied, slipping off her kid gloves and settling into the sitting area by the hearth in his study. The familiar surroundings brought a sense of calm that she had sorely missed.

"The weather is a bit warmer today after all," her uncle noted as he handed her a glass of lemonade, the coolness of the drink a welcome reprieve from the heat.

"Any excuse to indulge in something cold, sweet, and sour, right, Uncle?" she teased, a soft chuckle escaping her as she took a sip. The lemonade was as refreshing as she had anticipated.

"Indeed," he laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. But then his expression grew more serious as he asked, "How have you been?"

"Very well," Elizabeth replied, though the words felt more like a practiced response than a true reflection of her feelings. She took another sip of the lemonade, hoping it would wash away the unease that threatened to surface.

Her uncle's gaze lingered on her, thoughtful and probing, as if he could see past the veneer she had carefully constructed. After a moment, he finally spoke, "Glad to hear that then. Else I would have marched down to Sterlin House with my most efficient blunderbuss right this moment."

Elizabeth couldn't help but laugh, the image of her uncle storming the estate with his old blunderbuss both absurd and endearing. "How have you been, then, Uncle?" she asked, steering the conversation back to him. "And everyone?"

"Oh, your aunt and sisters are as rambunctious as ever. And me, I just try to keep up," he replied with a chuckle, the fondness in his voice clear.

Elizabeth smiled, the warmth of the exchange soothing her nerves. But there was still one question that weighed heavily on her mind, one she had to ask despite the risk of shattering the fragile peace. "And how has society been treating you after everything?" she inquired, her voice carefully measured.

Her uncle opened his mouth to respond, but before he could speak, the butler interrupted, entering the room with a silver tray bearing a stack of freshly delivered invitations.

"Why, it's another ball," her uncle squinted at the embossed papers as he sorted through them.

Elizabeth felt a small surge of relief as she watched him examine the invitations. The fact that her family still received such invitations was a good sign, a glimmer of hope that they had not been entirely ostracized.

"Will you be going too?" her uncle asked, handing her the invitations to peruse.

"If we receive an invitation, why not?" Elizabeth responded, trying to sound confident even as that familiar voice of anxiety whispered in the back of her mind, reminding her of the many reasons they might not be welcomed.

"I see no reason why they wouldn't extend one to you and your husband," her uncle said, his tone reassuring.

Elizabeth forced a smile, grateful for his optimism, though she couldn't silence the doubts that lingered. Her uncle hadn't mentioned the rumors—not that she had expected him to after what Anna had told her. The subject was delicate, and she decided then that she would keep her own silence on the matter as well.

"Oh, speaking of invitations," she said, suddenly recalling the purpose of her visit. "Alexander and I would like to host the family for dinner soon."

"We would be honored," her uncle beamed, the genuine pleasure in his expression easing some of the tension in her heart.

Elizabeth left her uncle's home feeling a bit lighter, but the reality of their situation remained with her. Upon returning home, she found that the same ball invitations her uncle had received had also arrived for her and Alexander. It seemed society was willing to give them a chance, and she knew they had to make the most of it.

The day before the ball, Elizabeth entered her bedchamber and was greeted by a sight that took her breath away. Laid out on her bed was an exquisite evening dress of midnight blue satin and lace, its rich fabric shimmering in the soft light. Next to the dress was a small box and a note.

Her heart quickened as she picked up the note and unfolded it, her eyes scanning the elegant handwriting:

My dear,

The dress is for the ball tomorrow evening. I took the liberty of picking out something for you from the family jewels as well. I do hope it is to your liking.

—Alexander

Elizabeth's fingers trembled slightly as she set the note aside and opened the box. Inside, nestled on a bed of velvet, was a stunning tiara adorned with diamonds and sapphires that perfectly matched the dress, and a pair of equally resplendent earrings.. The sight of it, combined with the unexpected gesture, sent a wave of emotion crashing over her.

Elizabeth found herself unable to tear her gaze away from the breathtaking gown and the sparkling jewels that lay before her. Time seemed to stand still as she marveled at the exquisite craftsmanship of the midnight blue satin, the delicate lace, and the shimmering sapphires. The anticipation of wearing them was almost too much to bear, and she wished, with all her heart, that she could hasten the hours until tomorrow evening when she would finally adorn herself in the dress and jewels.

Could this be another gift? The thought flitted through her mind, bringing with it a flutter of hope. Could this be Alexander's way of making amends for his absences, for the distance that had so often separated them? Oh, how she desperately wanted it to be true. How she longed for this gesture to mean something to him, to signify that she, Elizabeth, meant something to him.

The following evening, as her lady's maid fussed over the final touches, Elizabeth could hardly contain her excitement. The maid, equally enthusiastic, beamed as she stepped back to admire her handiwork.

"Oh, and I thought the red dress was beautiful on you," the maid gushed, her eyes sparkling as she took in the sight of Elizabeth in the midnight blue gown.

Elizabeth smiled at her reflection, the rich color of the dress bringing out the blue in her eyes. It was as though the gown had been crafted with her in mind, every detail designed to complement her natural beauty. Satisfied with the final look, she took a deep breath and descended the stairs to meet her husband.

As she reached the front vestibule, she noticed Alexander loitering there, his posture relaxed yet attentive. At the sound of her steps, he glanced up abstractedly, but when his gaze truly settled on her, he froze, his breath catching in his throat.

"Liz," he called out, almost breathless, as she reached the bottom of the stairs. The color rose in her cheeks, a warm blush spreading across her face.

"The dress fits," she quipped sheepishly, trying to ease the tension that suddenly filled the space between them.

"Indeed," he murmured, his voice thick with something she couldn't quite place. "You look as though you've stolen the entire cosmos in that dress, Liz." He reached for her gloved hand, his touch gentle yet purposeful, and slowly slipped off the glove before placing a lingering kiss on her bare knuckles.

The warmth of his gesture spread through her, enveloping her like a soft embrace. "In that case, you stole the cosmos for me then," she chuckled softly, her heart swelling with an emotion she could scarcely name.

"And I would steal it a hundred times over for you," he replied, his voice low, yet filled with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. The emotion in his gaze was so raw, so unexpected, that it left her momentarily speechless. She had never seen him look at her like this before, with such depth of feeling.

Just as she opened her mouth to speak, he interrupted her. "You're almost ready."

"Almost?" she echoed in surprise, her brows knitting together in confusion. What more could there possibly be?

A sly smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a small velvet box, slightly larger than the one that had held the tiara she now wore. "Open it," he urged, holding the box out to her.

Practically bursting with curiosity, Elizabeth took the box from his hand and carefully opened it. A gasp tore through her lungs as her eyes fell upon the dazzling necklace inside.

"Oh, Alex," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper as she stared at the magnificent piece. The diamonds and sapphires nestled in the velvet lining sparkled with a brilliance that took her breath away.

"Never say you thought I would let my Duchess grace society without a befitting jewel around her neck too?" Alexander teased gently, his voice warm and affectionate.

Elizabeth was at a loss for words, emotion pricking at her eyes as she tried to process the overwhelming gesture. "I don't know what to say," she managed, her voice trembling slightly.

"This is not from the family jewels, Liz," he said, his tone soft yet resolute. "I purchased this separately for you," he added, emphasizing the last word as though it carried all the meaning in the world.

Elizabeth's heart swelled with emotion, and for a moment, she feared she might cry. This was not just a gift—it was a declaration, a testament to the fact that she mattered to him in a way she had not dared to hope for.

"May I?" he offered, his voice tender as he gestured to the necklace.

Unable to speak, she simply nodded and turned, lifting her hair to allow him to fasten the necklace around her neck. His fingers brushed against her skin as he secured the clasp, sending a shiver through her that had nothing to do with the coolness of the jewels.

"There," he said, stepping back to admire her.

"I think society is ready to meet you now," Alexander said, his voice filled with palpable satisfaction as he surveyed the ballroom.

Elizabeth managed a nervous chuckle, the weight of the evening suddenly settling on her. "I'm not sure if I am ready," she admitted, her heart fluttering with both excitement and trepidation.

This was it—her first appearance in London society as the Duchess of Sterlin, and more daunting still, their first appearance together as a married couple.

The significance of the moment was not lost on her, and despite her outward composure, she couldn't quite quell the nerves that danced just beneath the surface.

"Breathe, darling. I am right here," Alexander murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. The warmth of his lips against her skin sent a wave of reassurance through her, and something warm and tender squeezed at her heart as she met his gaze.

Was this all part of the happy, contented facade they had to present to society tonight? The thought brought an odd pang of disappointment. She wanted this to be real, not just a performance. She wanted to mean something to him—more than just a partner in their carefully constructed life.

As they entered the ballroom on his arm, whispers followed them like a shadow, and Elizabeth felt the weight of countless curious eyes tracking their every step. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation, the collective gaze of society practically buzzing with intrigue as they made their way to greet their hosts.

"Why don't you open the dance floor for us tonight, Sterlin?" their host suggested, a smile playing on his lips. Alexander nodded in agreement, and before Elizabeth could fully process it, he was leading her towards the center of the room.

The music swelled, and soon, Elizabeth found herself lost in the graceful rhythm of their dance. Alexander's guidance was sure and steady, and she let herself be carried by the flow of the music, the elegant sweep of his movements. For a moment, the world around them blurred, and it felt as though they were the only two people in the room.

"They cannot take their eyes off you. They're positively smitten, Liz," Alexander said softly.

Elizabeth glanced up at him, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Are those your words you're putting in society's mouth, Your Grace?" she teased, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"So what if they are?" he returned, a wicked smile crossing his face as he suddenly pulled her closer. The unexpected closeness sent a rush of heat to her cheeks, and she felt her heart skip a beat.

He must have noticed her flustered reaction, because he chuckled, the sound rich and warm, sending a pleasant vibration through his body and into hers. Elizabeth felt the warmth in her cheeks deepen, and for a moment, she forgot about the prying eyes, the whispers, the weight of expectation. All that mattered was the man in front of her, and the way he made her feel.

Too soon, their dance came to an end, and the spell was broken as they were pulled back into the reality of the bustling ballroom.

"Your Grace," a familiar voice called out, drawing Elizabeth's attention. She turned, her eyes lighting up with surprise and delight as she recognized the speaker.

"Lady Compton!" she exclaimed, a genuine smile spreading across her face. "I didn't realize you were in town. What a pleasant surprise."

"Oh, I haven't graced London in quite some time," the Viscountess confessed with a laugh. "But after you left, I thought it best to follow you and partake in the rest of the Season together."

"Why, I feel honored then," Elizabeth replied, her voice warm with affection.

"Oh, you're too kind," Lady Compton dismissed with a pleasant wave of her hand before she introduced her husband to Alexander.

Viscount Compton was a rather scrawny, bespectacled man in his sixties, his demeanor pleasant but subdued in comparison to his vivacious wife. He immediately launched into conversation with Alexander, the two gentlemen quickly finding common ground in their discussion.

"While the gentlemen are distracted, allow me to introduce you to a childhood friend of mine, Your Grace," Lady Compton said eagerly, practically dragging Elizabeth away from the gathering. "The Marchioness of Delle. She is French, you see. We went to the same finishing school in Paris."

Elizabeth allowed herself to be led, her curiosity piqued as they approached the Marchioness. The woman was as pleasant as Lady Compton had promised, she had a prominent French accent that added a charming touch to her already elegant demeanor.

"I have heard a great deal about you from Lady Compton," the Marchioness said, her gaze warm as she took Elizabeth's hand.

"Hopefully good stories," Elizabeth replied with a light chuckle, trying to mask her nervousness.

"Oh, only the most marvelous ones," the Marchioness reassured her with a smile.

"News of the new Duchess of Sterlin hardly ever hides," came another woman's voice as she joined their party.

They turned to the sight of none other than the Countess of Winston.