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Authors: Regina Richards
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collar. The two men were close in height with the same slim build. Though Elizabeth imagined Nicholas was a little more muscular than the doctor and Dr. Bergen was a few years older. Still, they could easily have been brothers.
The compassion in those pale eyes began to change into something else, something more compelling. Bergen inhaled deeply. His grip on Elizabeth's shoulder tightened. There was a sharp rap on the door.
"I'll stay with her now, miss." Margaret, the diligent brown-eyed maid Dr. Bergen had selected to assist him in caring for her mother, came into the room.
The doctor's hand dropped from Elizabeth's shoulder. Elizabeth crossed her arms and hunched her shoulders as a sudden chill passed through her. Margaret went to the window and closed the curtains against the late afternoon sun.
"Cook says His Grace and Lord Devlin will be dining with you and the other guests tonight," the maid said.
Elizabeth had been watching the arrivals all day. How could she have missed the duke and his son? Her confusion must have shown on her face, because Margaret shook her head.
"They haven't arrived yet, miss. But word came with the packages delivered in Mr. Fosse's carriage. The packages are all for you, miss. Lennie, the new footman, the one with all the muscles," --Margaret blushed-- "put them in your room. Cook sent Katie to help you with them. She's young, just fourteen, but she's a fine needlewoman, miss, even if she really is a downstairs maid. She's in your room, waiting to see what needs adjusting."
Elizabeth left the maid and Dr. Bergen with her sleeping mother and went through the connecting door to her own room. There were three bedrooms in this wing of the house that looked out on the front lawns. All were connected by doors that led through small dressing areas. Judging by the décor, Elizabeth's room, the one in the center, with its deep burgundy curtains, massive oak bed, and equally large fireplace was the master's bedroom. To each side of it were smaller rooms. The one her mother occupied was done in frothy pink and white linens, the furniture delicate and girlish. The other bedroom sported more rugged furniture and was decorated in a boyish blue. It was clear the pink and blue rooms had been intended for children, the center bedroom for the parents. It was an unusual arrangement. Not only because it implied husband and wife would share a room, something uncommon among the titled class, but also because children of the upper classes normally occupied a nursery some distance from their parents. It was an odd. Yet it was exactly the arrangement Elizabeth would have desired for her own children.
Heat stung the corners of her eyes. Tomorrow she might be a wife, but she would never be a mother. Even if she were to conceive -- a vision of Lord Devlin flashed through her mind and her stomach did an odd flip – there was little chance she would survive long enough to bring the child into the world. Elizabeth pushed the notion from her mind. She'd given up dreams of what might have been long ago. They were a painful waste of time. She would be grateful instead. Grateful that for now they had a roof over their heads and the finest medical care Devlin's money could provide. Grateful for the peace the coming wedding seemed to have given her mother. And perhaps even grateful – she thought of Devlin and her stomach did that odd flip again -- that she might not go to her grave a maiden.
As Margaret had promised, a redheaded parlor maid sat in one corner of the master bedroom. The girl's hands were folded primly in her lap and an astonishing number of boxes littered the floor at her feet. The maid stood, dimples appearing at the look on Elizabeth's face.
"He must have bought out all of London," the girl said. She selected a box from the pile and set it on the bed before Elizabeth. "I'm Katie." She bobbed a curtsy as she removed the box lid, exposing a pair of slippers nestled in tissue. She lifted the
The compassion in those pale eyes began to change into something else, something more compelling. Bergen inhaled deeply. His grip on Elizabeth's shoulder tightened. There was a sharp rap on the door.
"I'll stay with her now, miss." Margaret, the diligent brown-eyed maid Dr. Bergen had selected to assist him in caring for her mother, came into the room.
The doctor's hand dropped from Elizabeth's shoulder. Elizabeth crossed her arms and hunched her shoulders as a sudden chill passed through her. Margaret went to the window and closed the curtains against the late afternoon sun.
"Cook says His Grace and Lord Devlin will be dining with you and the other guests tonight," the maid said.
Elizabeth had been watching the arrivals all day. How could she have missed the duke and his son? Her confusion must have shown on her face, because Margaret shook her head.
"They haven't arrived yet, miss. But word came with the packages delivered in Mr. Fosse's carriage. The packages are all for you, miss. Lennie, the new footman, the one with all the muscles," --Margaret blushed-- "put them in your room. Cook sent Katie to help you with them. She's young, just fourteen, but she's a fine needlewoman, miss, even if she really is a downstairs maid. She's in your room, waiting to see what needs adjusting."
Elizabeth left the maid and Dr. Bergen with her sleeping mother and went through the connecting door to her own room. There were three bedrooms in this wing of the house that looked out on the front lawns. All were connected by doors that led through small dressing areas. Judging by the décor, Elizabeth's room, the one in the center, with its deep burgundy curtains, massive oak bed, and equally large fireplace was the master's bedroom. To each side of it were smaller rooms. The one her mother occupied was done in frothy pink and white linens, the furniture delicate and girlish. The other bedroom sported more rugged furniture and was decorated in a boyish blue. It was clear the pink and blue rooms had been intended for children, the center bedroom for the parents. It was an unusual arrangement. Not only because it implied husband and wife would share a room, something uncommon among the titled class, but also because children of the upper classes normally occupied a nursery some distance from their parents. It was an odd. Yet it was exactly the arrangement Elizabeth would have desired for her own children.
Heat stung the corners of her eyes. Tomorrow she might be a wife, but she would never be a mother. Even if she were to conceive -- a vision of Lord Devlin flashed through her mind and her stomach did an odd flip – there was little chance she would survive long enough to bring the child into the world. Elizabeth pushed the notion from her mind. She'd given up dreams of what might have been long ago. They were a painful waste of time. She would be grateful instead. Grateful that for now they had a roof over their heads and the finest medical care Devlin's money could provide. Grateful for the peace the coming wedding seemed to have given her mother. And perhaps even grateful – she thought of Devlin and her stomach did that odd flip again -- that she might not go to her grave a maiden.
As Margaret had promised, a redheaded parlor maid sat in one corner of the master bedroom. The girl's hands were folded primly in her lap and an astonishing number of boxes littered the floor at her feet. The maid stood, dimples appearing at the look on Elizabeth's face.
"He must have bought out all of London," the girl said. She selected a box from the pile and set it on the bed before Elizabeth. "I'm Katie." She bobbed a curtsy as she removed the box lid, exposing a pair of slippers nestled in tissue. She lifted the
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