Chapter 8

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"It's not that bad." Charlotte insists passing the letter back to Eliza.

"It is! 'Please enjoy yourself by choosing the nicest flowers and dresses...' Because that's what I immediately want to do, spend all his money." Eliza balls up the letter and chucks it over her shoulder, scoffing.

"He is trying to be kind," Charlotte says sipping her tea with her pinkie extended. " To make this easier for you."

Eliza leans back in her chair and groans. The tea and biscuits in front of her remain untouched.

"This is going to do my head in." She mutters bitterly and bangs her forehead on the polished wood. Her friend lets a little laugh slip out, Eliza raises an eyebrow at her.

"I never thought you'd be in this type of predicament," Charlotte confesses amused.

"Me neither." Eliza agrees less amused. "But you will organise everything for the wedding?" She leans across the table and takes her friend's free hand urgently.

"Of course, I love weddings." Charlotte replies, "But you have to come and pick your own dress."

"Why?" Eliza lets go of her hand and sinks moodily back into her seat.

"Because it's your wedding dress!"

"Just get me the most expensive one like my fiance wants." Eliza sniffs and crosses her arms.

"Stop being so childish," Charlotte says sternly as she places the cup on its saucer. Eliza sticks her tongue out in retaliation.

"Eliza Turner did you..."

"Excuse me."

Charlotte's sentence is cut short and both women turn to the door where Harrington stands, hat under an arm.

"Duke Harrington." Charlotte rises to her feet,

"Lady Charlotte." The duke inclines his head in her direction.

"Your maid let me in," Harrington tells Eliza who responds with a cool eyebrow raise.

"I was just leaving." Charlotte stands and pushes her chair under the table. Eliza straightens up in protest.

"Please don't leave on my account." Harrington hastily retreats, Eliza silently pleads Charlotte not to leave with her desperate eyes but she is ignored.

"Not at all, I have a great deal of wedding business to attend to." She says. "Goodbye, Eliza."

Charlotte casts a meaningful look at her before sweeping from the room, Eliza watches grumpily as her friend leaves her alone with her fiance.

Harrington stands there awkwardly, fiddling with his hat.

"May I?" He gestures to the vacant chair opposite her. Eliza nods subdued. He sits and places his hat on the wooden surface. He places fingers, tip to tip, on the table and scrutinises the girl in front of him. Her long hair hangs around her face which is pink with annoyance.

"I can call for some tea if you like." she offers out of courtesy, anything to get out of here.

"That's quite all right," Harrington says they fall into a dead silence. Eliza purses her lips and plays with the fabric of her dress while the duke's knee taps the floor in rhythm.

"I know we aren't fond of each other," He begins suddenly, "But to make this simple we must try to tolerate each other's presence."

Eliza looks into his face and wishes he wasn't so good-looking, the jaw is chiselled and the chestnut eyes sparkle.

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