Marry Christmas
Chapter One
Newport, Rhode Island, 1892
"I was thinking of a Christmas wedding," her mother
said, as casually as if she were ordering consomme for
luncheon from cook.
Elizabeth suppressed a gasp. Her mother detested any
show of defiance, but she simply could not allow this.
"I haven't even met him, Mother." Remarkable how
calm she could be when she wanted to scream.
Alva Cummings pursed her lips and placed her correspondence
to the side, a sign of her extreme displeasure.
Each morning, Elizabeth had to suffer an audience
with her mother, a tedious and cutting recounting of her
performance the previous day. And today, it seemed,
they were again talking about Elizabeth's marriage to
the ninth Duke of Bellingham. "As you know, whether
you have met His Grace or not is of little consequence.
Instead of arguing with me, you should be thanking me.
You will be a duchess. Think of it. A duchess."
But all Elizabeth could think of was Henry, the only
man she would ever love. Something in her face must
have betrayed her thoughts, for her mother turned her
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