The Duke's Daughter by McRae Melinda

Author:McRae, Melinda [McRae, Melinda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-06-14T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

“Why do you tiptoe around like an idiot, Crump?” Even in illness, the duke’s voice was commanding.

“I had not thought you awake, your grace,” his valet of many years replied.

“I am always awake,” he grumbled. “Is the weather tolerable this morning?”

“The sky is clouded, but I do not think it will rain, your grace.”

“English spring. Bah. Are the vultures amusing themselves still?”

Crump concurred with the duke’s assessment of his offspring. “Lady Elizabeth arrived yesterday.”

“What? Elizabeth is here? Why was I not told?” Even illness could not hide the anger in the duke’s voice.

The valet cringed. “Lord Slate felt you needed more time to rest from your last attack, your grace. He knew how difficult the interview might be for you.”

The duke raised his frail frame from the pillows. “I want her here at once. At once, do you understand?”

The trembling Crump bowed his way out of the ducal chamber.

Elizabeth, exhausted from her long days of traveling, was deep in slumber when Sally came to rouse her from her bed.

“Miss Lizzie, Miss Lizzie, you must wake up. They say it is important.”

Elizabeth looked about her in sleepy confusion. “What?”

“They say the duke wants to see you right away.”

Elizabeth awoke instantly and scrambled out of bed. “Is he all right?”

Sally nodded. “But they say he wants you, so we must hurry. ” She grabbed a dress from the wardrobe while Elizabeth struggled with her nightclothes.

“I shall look a fright,” Elizabeth moaned as Sally frantically did up the buttons on the dress. “Where is that hairbrush?”

While Elizabeth sought to tame her unwieldy hair, Sally strove to fasten the cuff buttons on the opposite hand.

“Miss Lizzie, you have to sit down.” Sally took the brush from her mistress’s hand. “I will tend to your hair and all else. ”

Grateful to let Sally take over, Elizabeth nearly collapsed into the chair. Her hands trembled so strongly she could barely hold the brush. Sally managed to bring a semblance of order to Elizabeth’s tangled locks and produced a reasonably competent chignon.

While Sally looked to her hair, Elizabeth’s mind raced ahead to the upcoming interview. What would her father say to her? Did he wish to reconcile, to apologize for the way he had treated her? Or was he merely desirous of personally telling her this would be the final break? Was he seeking only to soothe his conscience on his deathbed, thinking a last-minute apology could make up for the last seven years? Elizabeth was not certain if it could.

Slipping into her shoes and grabbing the shawl Sally held out to her, Elizabeth stepped breathlessly into the hall.

“I shall take you to your father now, Lady Elizabeth,” Crump offered.

“How is he, truly, Crump?” she asked as they wound their way toward the west wing.

A sadness crept into the man’s eyes. “He is not well, my lady. A lesser man would have succumbed long ago. He fights it as best he can, but I fear there is only one outcome.”

“Did he really wish for me to

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