Chapter 37
“The role would never suit you,” Nancy defended, standing her ground even as the governess took more steps toward her. “Not because of your station in society but because of your treachery.”
Edith glanced at Adrian. “Lord Eastmere did offer to make me a duchess if I helped him dismantle the order in Scarfield Manor.”
“I did not know you had your sights on my husband.”
“On the title,” she corrected, once more proving Nancy right for suspecting her from the start. She had no time to entertain Edith’s nonsense; thus, she turned to Adrian.
“What did you hope to get out of all this?”
He gave a mocking little bow. "My darling Nancy. You, of course." He took a step closer, lowering his voice to a confidante's murmur. "Where do you suppose all those flowers and poems have been coming from?"
She gaped at him. "You?"
"Very clever," he said, hands loose at his sides, as if he were about to break into a waltz.
"You never noticed, did you? Too busy with your precious Scarfield.
Too busy pretending you did not know how much better you could have had it.
" He let out a brittle, sharp laugh. "I always said you were too clever for the ton.
But it seems you have a blind spot for the obvious. "
Nancy's shock ebbed, replaced by disgust. "How dare you? What have I ever done to you?"
Adrian's expression darkened. "You see, that is the whole of it.
You never saw me. Not once in all these years.
Not at your debut, when I danced every dance propriety would allow me.
Not in the drawing rooms, or at the lectures, or even at your own mother's salon.
And then, to make it perfect, you go and marry the one man in London I cannot outplay.
Scarfield." He grimaced at Oscar's title as if it were a physical blight on his tongue.
"You never even recognized me when Scarfield reintroduced us.
I suppose you've danced with so many gentlemen, I faded into the shadows along with your inconsequential memories of them. "
"That is not true," Nancy spat. "You are not forgettable. You are—" She stopped, at a loss.
"A disappointment? A ghost?" Adrian suggested, stepping nearer. "I would have taken a ghost, Nancy. Instead, you made me a joke." His hand shot out, and before Nancy could react, he had her wrist in a grip that cut straight to the bone.
She gasped. "Let go of me."
"Is this what you wanted?" Adrian hissed. "To watch men crawl for you, only to toss them away?"
"You know nothing about me," she managed, her voice shaking.
He loomed in, breath hot and sour. "I know you chose Scarfield. I know you would always choose him, even if he were a monster. Even if I offered you the world."
"I would," Nancy said, clear as a bell. "And I have no regrets. In every lifetime, I would choose him. You are nothing to me."
For a split second, she saw the raw wound in Adrian's eyes. Then his face twisted. "You belittle love with your actions, Nancy. You make it a thing of shame."
"You disgrace it," she shot back, "with your cowardice and betrayal."
Adrian's hand found her jaw and forced her face up to his. "What happened to you calling me Adrian, eh? Why so formal now, love? I will show you what true love is."
He bent his head, mouth a snarl, and Nancy recoiled. She tried to scream, but he crushed her jaw between his fingers. She thought she might break.
And then Adrian was gone. Yanked backwards with such force he struck the tiled floor, sending a potted fern flying. Oscar stood above him, his eyes wild, fist cocked.
"Do not touch my wife," Oscar said, and with an efficiency that bordered on artistry, punched Adrian in the mouth.
Nancy sagged, fear evacuating her limbs. Oscar turned, catching her before she could slide to the floor. He wrapped his arms around her, checking her face, her wrists, her ribs. "Are you hurt?"
She shook her head, unable to speak.
Edith was already backing toward the door, her mask of composure gone. As she reached the threshold, a tall man blocked her path. "Going somewhere, Miss Mercer?" he said, and Nancy recognized Harvey, Oscar's solicitor.
A constable—Nancy guessed by the uniform, though she had never seen one up close—entered behind Harvey and promptly hauled Adrian off the floor, pinning his arms with casual disdain.
Oscar kneeled in front of Nancy. "Are you sure you are not hurt?"
She wanted to laugh, but it caught in her throat. "I'm fine. He didn't—" She looked at Adrian, now sputtering through a split lip, and felt a dark surge of triumph.
Oscar looked up at Harvey. "Ensure they are both restrained. They must face the law for this!" He faced Nancy again, and for a moment, neither said a word.
"Why did you come?" Nancy asked, finding her voice at last.
He cradled her face so tenderly it hurt. "I never left you, Nancy. I only went to find the truth. I should have told you. I am a fool."
She put her hands on his, letting the warmth sink into her. "You are not a fool, Oscar. I am the one who—" She could not say it.
He shook his head. "None of that. Say no more." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, rough and soft at once.
Adrian, now subdued, looked at them with pure venom. "You think you've won, Scarfield? The world is not so easily fooled. Your precious wife will always wonder if you love her, or if you only keep her because you cannot manage children by yourself."
Oscar gave him a look so cold it should have burned through the man's skull. "That is where you are wrong," he said, eyes never leaving Nancy. "I love her, and I would destroy anything that tried to take her from me."
Nancy felt her heart stop, then start again at triple speed. "Oscar," she whispered.
He helped her to her feet. Harvey directed the constable and his men to escort Adrian and Edith outside, leaving only Nancy and Oscar in the conservatory.
Nancy clung to Oscar's coat. "How did you know?"
He stroked her hair. "Your mother. She wrote to me. Said she would break every bone in my body if I did not come at once." He smiled, a real smile. "But I was already on my way."
Harvey reentered, dusting his hands. "All is handled, Your Grace. The authorities will see to them. You may rest easy."
Oscar nodded, then turned back to Nancy. "Let us go outside. The air in here is dreadful."
Nancy let him lead her to the garden, the sunlight almost too bright after the chaos indoors. She stood, trembling, until he turned her toward him.
"I love you," he said, the words so simple she wanted to weep.
She stared at him, unblinking. "You do?"
"I always have. I always will. Even if you set fire to every rule in England and burn down my estate in the process." He drew her close. "I only want you, Nancy. Only ever you."
She felt the last of her fear dissolve, replaced by something so sweet and fierce it hurt to hold. "I love you too," she said, and this time her voice was strong.
Oscar kissed her, and the world, at last, was silent.
They broke apart only when two small bodies collided with Nancy's knees, nearly toppling her.
"Aunt Nancy!" Clara shrieked. Henry followed, wild-haired and flushed, waving a stick.
"What in the world—" Nancy began, but Clara was already talking over her.
"We saw Miss Mercer get into a carriage with two very large men! Is she gone?"
Nancy nodded. "She is never coming back."
Clara looked at Henry, as if confirming a secret. Then both twins burst into a triumphant dance, circling Oscar and Nancy.
Oscar kneeled with his arms wide. "Come here, you little monsters."
The twins threw themselves into his embrace, and Nancy, for the first time since she could remember, felt whole.
"I am sorry," Oscar said, looking at the children. "I did not know she was so awful to you."
Henry shrugged. "It is all right. We like it better now that she is gone."
Clara nodded, face serious. "You are a good Duke. And Aunt Nancy is a good Duchess."
Oscar laughed. "That is all I ever wanted to hear."
Nancy kneeled with them, arms around her strange, beautiful family. They were together. They were safe.
She looked at Oscar, and he at her, and in that single moment, all the hurt and chaos of their lives seemed to collapse into something bright and perfect.
"Let us go inside," Nancy said at last, the future opening before them like a new day.
Oscar smiled, rising and brushing a lock of hair from her face. “Yes—come along, all of you. We have a Christmas tree to make.”
Clara gasped. “With ribbons and oranges?”
“And sugar biscuits,” Henry added eagerly.
Nancy laughed, her heart swelling as Oscar took her hand. “With everything,” she promised.
Together they walked back toward the house, the sound of the children’s laughter drifting behind them, the scent of pine and winter in the air. Inside, the hearth waited, bright and golden—ready to welcome them home.