Making Spirits Bright: A Regency Historical Romance Holiday Novella (The Hellion Club) by Chasity Bowlin

Author:Chasity Bowlin [Bowlin, Chasity]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical
Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2022-07-25T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

It was a ludicrous thing, really, but Burney couldn’t help himself. He was quite nervous as he stood next to the fireplace in the drawing room wringing his hands. Being non-corporeal in nature, hand wringing was foolish. But since no one could see him do it, he supposed it didn’t really matter. He just so desperately wanted it to go well. It wasn’t only for his own benefit, either. There was an unhappiness in Elizabeth, a deep shame which he recognized. She had loved William Satterly, or at the very least had loved the idea of him, who he represented himself to be. She blamed herself for loving him even more than she blamed him for lying to her and deceiving her as he had, Burney thought.

The house was bedecked for the coming holiday. Holly, ivy and various evergreen garlands were draped on the mantels and windows. But there was no tree. It seemed that the dowager duchess had no interest in following the fashions set by Queen Charlotte. But that surprised him not at all.

Almost as if his thoughts had summoned her, the dowager duchess entered the drawing room, settling herself on one of the lovely blue damask settees. Despite her age, her spine was perfectly erect and her posture completely rigid. Elizabeth followed, though she certainly seemed less than pleased about it all. No sooner had the younger woman seated herself than a knock sounded upon the door.

The dowager duchess smiled. Well, no. She smirked. It was a different thing entirely.

“He’s quite prompt, isn’t he?” the dowager duchess observed.

“It hardly matters,” Elizabeth replied. “No doubt, I have but to tell him of my sordid past and he will either make me an improper offer or make a hasty exit. We should wager on it.”

“Wager?” the dowager duchess questioned. “I’d never be so crass. I prefer to simply gloat when I am right.”

Elizabeth’s lips firmed into a thin, hard line in response.

The butler appeared in the doorway. “The Marquess of Whittendon, your grace.”

“Show him in, please,” the dowager duchess instructed with an impatient gesture.

Burney, if he was still in possession of actual lungs that required breath, would have been holding his. As it were, he just went completely still and waited for the marquess to enter. The moment the man stepped into the room, the marquess’ gaze fell unerringly upon Miss Burkhart and there it stayed. It was quite easy to see that he was entirely smitten with her and that given an opportunity, that state of infatuation could easily progress to something much deeper and infinitely more permanent. If she would let it.

Miss Elizabeth Burkhart was more than just prickly, much more than just a woman who had suffered disappointments and degradation in her life. She was afraid. Having lived almost all of his life in a similar state of fear, terrified that people would know the truth of who and what he was, Burney identified very strongly with her. And that was why he knew that Whittendon was the weak link for his attack.

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