April 21st, 1811

 

Would that she felt that was the case.

Lady Elizabeth Huntington watched her cousin Tabitha turn this way and that in the mirror, as both their mothers made noises of appreciation.

“What do you think, Elizabeth?” Mother addressed her again, trying to get the response she wanted.

She couldn’t ignore a direct question, unfortunately. She looked at the white gown, gathered in the front and back, with its deep, squared-off neckline. The full skirt hung beautifully, and, just under the bustline, the pale satin trim shimmered. Short, puffy sleeves set off Tabitha’s slender arms. “It looks very nice on her.”

And it did. Tabitha, with her sleek blonde hair, and pink cheeks, looked lovely in white.

Tabitha preened, looking at herself in the gilt-wood mirror.

“You’ll be next, I’d wager,” Aunt Lillian smiled her way.

Not if she could help it, she wouldn’t. Standing over a small desk, she flipped through a fashion-plate book. “Does that dress come in black, then?”

“Really, Elizabeth! Must you?” Mother voiced her disapproval.

“What? I was simply referring to the fact that we just barely finished mourning Mr. MacGregor. Last week, I was still wearing gray.” Since the colors had favored her red hair and pale skin it hadn’t been that much of an inconvenience.

“Alexander will be coming for you soon.”

“Humph.” She threw herself down on a Greek-style library couch, the style all the rage in London at the moment.  “Perhaps I’d be a bit more excited if I hadn’t been informed upon my birth whom I was to marry. Why should Tabatha get to choose her groom when I do not?”

Mother rolled her eyes and let out a long-suffering sigh. “How sad for you to be engaged to a Laird. Now stop slouching and please refrain from acting like a petulant child. Straighten your shoulders.”

Elizabeth sighed. She’d let her mother know in a myriad of ways over the years that she thought the entire thing was barbaric.

As far as she could tell, it had never done a bit of good.

The good news was, she had a plan.

She hadn’t told her mother, but Alexander had written to inform her he’d be arriving in London this week. When he did, she’d get him to help her figure out how to break the engagement without ruining themselves.

Surely he didn’t want to marry her any more than she wanted to marry him? Echoes of “Frizzy Lizzie” filled her mind more and more of late.

She had no doubt that he wished to be released from their engagement as much as she did.

The bell over the door rang, and she automatically glanced in that direction. Lady Nelson and her horrible friend Lady Somerset came through the door of the dress shop and made a beeline for her.

Lizzie finally straightened the way her mother had requested.

“Why, Lady Elizabeth.” The words were saccharine sweet. “How wonderful to see you here. Might I be the first to congratulate you on your upcoming nuptials?”

Elizabeth stood and dipped into a slight curtsy. The lady was a gossip and a viper, so she tried to keep her expression neutral, but had a moment of unease as she looked into the face of Lady Nelson. There had been an ocean exhibition in London last fall and Elizabeth vividly remembered the shark reveal. That’s exactly what Lady Nelson reminded her of. A shark, with all of her teeth on display.

Everyone knew about Lizzie’s long-term betrothal, but few ever mentioned it. Did the woman assume they were selecting a dress for Lizzie? “Oh, it’s not me that’s trying on gowns, it’s my cousin.”

Elizabeth’s mother came up behind her and didn’t even pretend not to be listening.

The women laughed. “Why, I meant your engagement, my dear. The listing has been posted in today’s paper.”

Elizabeth’s shock must have shown in her face.

The woman laughed again. “Oh? Am I the first to inform you of your own engagement?” The old gossip would love that, wouldn’t she? She’d no doubt run around town telling everyone she met that Elizabeth hadn’t known she was engaged.

Elizabeth managed a laugh. “Of course not, Lady Nelson. I’ve been betrothed since the day I was born; I simply didn’t know the announcement had been posted in the paper so soon. I wasn’t expecting it until tomorrow.”

With an air of extreme graciousness, Lady Nelson pulled the local news sheet out of her reticule and handed it to Elizabeth. “Please, I insist you take my copy.”

“Thank you. You are most kind.”

The two gossipy old biddies laughed again, then turned to look at bolts of material as they whispered amongst themselves.

Elizabeth quickly scanned the paper and easily found the notice. The Much Honored Alexander MacGregor, Laird of Inverdeem, announces his upcoming nuptials to Lady Elizabeth Huntington of Lincolnshire.

She blinked.

Surely Alexander would not have done this without talking to her first?

She felt sick to her stomach, but tried to hide her reaction, as she was well aware that the ladies were watching from across the room.

It was a year since his father’s death. Had his mother, in her grief, put him up to it?

Now how were they supposed to get out of this engagement without ruining their reputations?

Why would he do this? After all the letters they’d exchanged over the years, all the insults, surely they were of the same mind? She’d been very honest and open with him, because she wasn’t marrying the man. They’d simply been pen-friends.

If he was back in town, she needed to talk to him.

They had to fix this, somehow.

As soon as she returned home, she’d send a note to his residence.

Surely, they could still get out of this?

***

Alexander hadn't been in town for long when he received the expected note from Lizzie.

Anticipation filled him as he tore it open. I’ll be at the Somerset ball this evening and will expect to see you there. Lizzie. No postscript this time. He wondered if that meant anything. 

The servants worked around him, reopening the house, so he moved into his father’s office. His office now, he reminded himself.

Yesterday, he’d sent the notice to the newspaper informing the world of his engagement to Lady Elizabeth Huntington.

It was funny, how that gave him so much satisfaction.

She'd no doubt be miffed that he’d done so before they’d even met up again, but mayhap that was partly why he’d done it.

He thought about the letters they'd written to each other over the years, and knew that despite the sniping, the griping, and semi-regular postscript, “P.S. I loathe you,” they were going to get along just fine.

She certainly made him laugh.

He couldn’t believe it had actually been nine years since he’d last seen her.

No matter—he'd see her later tonight, and they’d get it all worked out once and for all.

He had some things to do, some business to take care of, or, he had to admit to himself, he'd run right over there like a lovesick lad.

He honestly couldn't wait to see what she looked like after all this time. He was excited to see her again. Excited to marry her.

Even if she turned out to be as homely as he had once thought her, he would still be happy to have her. The letters had shown him her true character.

She was kind, witty, and strong.

He loved her, or at least he thought he did. He could love her, anyway.

At the age of twenty and five he was not only ready to be married, but he was ready to have his wife in his bed.

He smiled in anticipation.

He’d be at that ball tonight.