Chapter Nineteen #2
“I have never meant anything more.” A faint smile touched his mouth. “But not today. Today I asked only that you hear me. Tomorrow, if you return to me freely, with nothing left unfinished between us, I shall ask you to be my wife.”
Her answering smile was small, unsteady, and achingly beautiful.
“I think,” she said softly, “I should like that very much.”
He laughed then, the sound quiet with relief. Then he lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her fingers.
“Then I shall wait.”
“You will?”
“For as long as it takes.”
She rose on her toes and kissed him once, gently, lingering just long enough to leave him wanting more.
“Do not make me wait too long either,” she murmured.
“I have wasted enough time already.”
She smiled, turned, and walked towards the door.
At the threshold, she glanced back.
“William?”
“Yes?”
“I am very glad you wrote the letter.”
Then she was gone.
***
The conversation with Edmund was every bit as difficult as Eliza had anticipated.
She had sent a note first thing that morning, asking whether she might call. His reply had come almost at once.
The welcome faded as soon as he saw her face.
“Something is wrong,” he said quietly.
She waited until the servant had withdrawn before speaking.
“I need to talk to you about our engagement.”
Understanding settled over his features.
“I see.”
“Edmund…” She forced herself to meet his eyes. “You have shown me nothing but kindness. You deserve complete honesty from me, and I should have given it to you before I accepted your proposal.”
“You cannot marry me.”
“I cannot.”
Silence stretched between them.
“At least tell me why.”
“Because my heart belongs to someone else.”
“The Duke of Hollowshade.”
It wasn’t a question. Eliza felt heat rise to her cheeks, but she did not look away.
“Yes.”
“I suspected as much.” Edmund’s smile was sad but not bitter.
“You did?”
“The way you looked at one another left very little room for doubt.”
“I thought it was over.” She swallowed. “He made me believe it was. I accepted your proposal because I believed there could never be a future between us.”
“And now?”
“He told me the truth yesterday. That he loved me, and that he pushed me away because he had convinced himself it was the only way to protect us both.”
Edmund regarded her for a long moment.
“And you believe him.”
“I do.”
He looked towards the window.
“I had hoped affection might grow in time,” he said quietly. “I thought perhaps steadiness would prove enough.”
“It would not have been fair to you.”
“No.” A faint smile touched his face. “It would not.”
She looked down.
“I am deeply sorry.”
“I know.”
He crossed the room and offered her his hand.
“I shall not pretend this is easy. But I would rather lose you now than spend years wondering why part of you always seemed beyond my reach.”
Emotion caught unexpectedly in her throat. “You are a very good man, Edmund.”
“So I have been told.” His smile returned, gentler now. “Perhaps one day I shall meet a lady who thinks being good is precisely what she has been searching for.”
He released her hand.
“You should go.”
She hesitated.
“You are certain?”
“Yes.”
His expression softened.
“He loves you?”
“With all his heart.”
“Then do not keep the poor fellow waiting any longer.”
She laughed through her tears.
“I wish you every happiness, Edmund.”
“And I wish the same for you.”
She left with a lighter heart than she had expected.
Before she reached home, she sent a note.
It is over. Come to me.
***
William arrived within the hour.
Aunt Philippa nearly had an apoplexy when the Duke of Hollowshade was announced in her drawing room, but Beatrice intervened smoothly, steering their aunt toward the garden with some fabricated emergency involving the roses.
Which left Eliza alone with William for the first time since their confrontation in his foyer.
“It is over?” he asked the moment the door closed behind Beatrice. His voice was rough.
“Yes.” She smiled as he crossed the room in three long strides. “I spoke to Edmund this morning. The engagement is ended—”
He kissed her before she could finish the sentence.
There was joy in it, and relief, and the overwhelming promise of a future they could finally claim. She felt him smiling against her lips, felt the tension leave his body, felt the moment he let himself believe it.
“I love you,” he murmured against her mouth. “Have I mentioned that?”
“Once or twice.”
“I intend to mention it often.”
“I shall permit it.” She drew back just enough to look at him. “On one condition.”
“Name it.”
“No more running. No more deciding for me. If you are afraid, you tell me. If you doubt yourself, you tell me. We face what comes together, or not at all.”
“Together,” he said, turning his head to press a kiss to her palm. “I promise.”
“And if you forget?”
“Then you may remind me as forcefully as you please.” His smile was crooked. “I suspect I may need reminding now and then.”
“I know.” She curled her fingers against his cheek. “We shall learn.”
“Together.”
She smiled. “You are beginning to understand.”
He kissed her once more, softly, then stepped back with obvious reluctance.
“I should write to your father. And speak to your aunt, of course. I mean to do this properly.”
“My father will be delighted.” Eliza laughed at William’s expression of surprise. “He is far more romantic than he likes to appear.”
“And your aunt?”
“My aunt will be scandalised, then thrilled, then insufferably pleased to have a duke in the family.” Eliza took his hand, threading her fingers through his. “She will come round.”
“And society?”
“Society will talk.” She squeezed his hand. “Let it. I am tired of living by the fears of other people.”
He looked at her with such naked wonder that her breath caught.
“I do not deserve you,” he said quietly.
“Perhaps not.” She smiled. “But you may spend the rest of your life trying.”
“I intend to.”
They stood in her aunt’s drawing room, hands clasped, the future before them uncertain, imperfect, and theirs.
For the first time, that was enough.