Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
‘Shut up.’
‘All right.’ I watch as Frank goes to the desk, takes a seat and picks up a quill, ready to re-write my story in his own hand. ‘Watch the door,’ he orders.
‘Anything you say, brother dearest.’
‘Where should I start?’
‘The headline,’ I say, pressing my back up against the wood, ‘should read “A warm welcome for the cold Duke of Chester”.’
‘Ironic,’ he says, head down. ‘I like it.’
‘Thank you. Ready?’ I ask, and he nods. ‘Imagine if,’ I go on, falling into thought, ‘you were to see a ghost…’
My report was in the next day’s edition and the newspaper once again topped previous sales.
Since that exhilarating afternoon in the royal park, I have not yet succeeded in forgetting about my encounter with the Duke of Chester. I have been on many walks with Mother and Clara, eager and excited, even hoping, perhaps, that I would see him again. Alas, there has been no sign of the Duke on any of my forays, and it was rather hard not to allow the disappointment to reveal itself on my face each time. The thrill I experienced in the moment when he merely let his eyes rest upon me was like nothing I have felt before. The exhilaration I dream of, excitement and anticipation, was mine in that tense moment in the park under the Duke’s watchful green eyes. I realise it is utterly preposterous that I feel such fascination towards a man whose reputation is so smeared. But still, I feel it, and I cannot stop it.
But I must. I must, I must, I must.
Today I am to meet with Frederick in the gardens of Belmore Square. We will promenade, talk, and I will continue to let him woo me. The truth is, each time I have been in Frederick’s company, I haven’t much heard a word he has spoken. I would like to think it is simply a matter of distraction on my part, but I know in my heart it is a case of sheer and utter boredom. Perhaps a bit of both. Either way, Frederick and I are not destined to fall in love. I am merely going through the motions of courtship, for if I refuse to see Frederick, I will be stuck in our house too often, or, worse than that, thrust upon many other potential suitors. He is the perfect reason for me to be permitted to venture into the outside world, and, after all, he is perfectly harmless. God forgive me, I have become aware that I am taking advantage of the fact that Mama is distracted by her mission to fit in and be accepted, and Frederick is oblivious to my wandering eye and mind.
‘Eliza,’ Father says as I am following Mother out of the door. I look back and find him hovering on the threshold of his study, a rather thoughtful look on his face that I can’t say I like. It’s the look he used to give me – one of both suspicion and pride – when he knew I was up to no good. ‘How are you recovering after your run-in with that rogue Duke?’
I gulp and try my very hardest to hide it. ‘Very well, thank you, Papa.’ I turn on my heels and escape his scrutiny, and it is the worst thing I could have done. Guilty. Damn it to hell, does he suspect it’s not Porter or Frank penning the articles? I would like to think it true that my father knows me to the core, knows of my passions and dreams, of my thirst for life, therefore would know my writing, but I can quickly dismiss that fear. He doesn’t know me. He can’t possibly, not if he has paired me with such a discordant personality as the Earl of Cornwall, Frederick Lymington.
‘Miss Melrose,’ Frederick says, bowing his head. I return the gesture, my eyes naturally falling past him to the house on the edge of Belmore Square. ‘Shall we promenade?’ he says, motioning towards the gates that will lead us to the royal park.
‘How about a change of scenery, Frederick?’ I ask.
Failing to hide his recoil, he glances around nervously. ‘Miss Melrose, we have discussed this many times. You must address me in the proper manner.’
I breathe in. ‘My apologies, my lord.’ For heaven’s sake, I’m to marry this man, and yet I am expected to bow to him? ‘I think I would like to walk this way today.’
Frederick frowns, utterly confused. ‘But we must be seen promenading in the Prince’s park.’
‘Imagine if,’ I whisper, smiling mischievously, ‘we were not to be seen in the park. Imagine promenading somewhere else today.’
‘I don’t understand.’
My shoulders drop. ‘Frederick, we have wandered every square inch of the Prince’s park. Across every blade of grass.’
‘I’m certain we haven’t, Miss Melrose.’ He laughs a little, like I am a jester, and my heart sinks along with my shoulders. Frederick just does not understand me, and with each day that passes, each walk, each conversation, my spirit dulls a little bit more. It’s not his fault, so I cannot possibly be angry with him. I’m finding it hard enough to be angry with Papa, and I’m certain this is most definitely his fault.