Chapter 27 #3
There had been moments when they had seemed to connect, when there had been a hint of warmth and of something else that she was not ready to acknowledge.
Even moments of something close to friendship.
The ever-present awareness that this proposal was driven by his need for money and her possession of a fortune while his eye and his heart were clearly captured by someone else was a lump in her throat and a rock at the bottom of her stomach.
But she had been sent out into the Marriage Mart to select a suitable mate.
The Duke of Selkirk was most decidedly that.
In addition, in comparison to every other man she had encountered, well, they had faded to insignificance beside him.
If Aurora was being honest, she could see no one else but him.
Mayhap I am the fool Missie called me. She longed for this to be over.
She wished more than anything else to be home.
The elaborately ornate clock on the mantlepiece seemed to be ticking louder and louder as the moments crawled on.
Lady Wentworth looked up from her embroidery and loudly cleared her throat.
Somehow, Aurora found her voice. With a firmness she did not quite recognize in herself, she responded, “Sir, I am most appreciative of your offer. It is an incredibly generous one. I am, I can— At this time, I can only provisionally accept. There are two necessary conditions, which I hope you might understand. The first is that I would like you to meet and consult with my father directly, so that he, himself, fully approves. The second is that I wish to ensure Marjorie has learned of our possible,” she stumbled over the word, “union. And acquiesces.”
The Duke’s eyes widened in surprise, and then he smiled. A sharp exhalation from Lady Wentworth, however, made it clear she found this to be outside of her expectations as to how things should proceed.
“That sounds eminently sensible, Miss Hardcastle. I can vacate my rooms to accompany you and your party up north to meet with Mr. Hardcastle at your earliest convenience. Furthermore, I will discuss our possible union with Marjorie before she goes to sleep tonight. As I said, I know she considers you a great friend, so I do not see any obstacles from that direction. Nevertheless, yes, I will consult her.”
“Excellent, sir.” Aurora nervously started to pleat the front of her gown with her fingers again, realized she was doing so, and attempted to smooth out its folds instead.
The Duke of Selkirk stood, brought his heels together in a sharp salute, then took her hand again and brought it to his lips for the slightest of kisses.
“I shall send a note to Lord Wentworth tomorrow morning so we can finalize the date and time of our departure. I shall also let you know of my conversation with Marjorie.”
Aurora would have stood as well, but she feared her knees might buckle, so she responded to him by briefly ducking her head.
When she raised it again, she looked him in the eye, dreading the forthcoming scolding from her ladyship on her handling of the situation while desperately hoping for a warm look from him.
She had done her duty, had attempted to do it on her own terms, but was desperate for an ally, in spite of it all.
“I thank you for your consideration, sir.”
She received the confirmation she sought. The Duke of the warm and teasing eyes was suddenly very present in front of her, and she almost sagged in relief.
* * *
Alec’s gratitude at Miss Hardcastle’s calm, her clear bright eyes which did not hold him in contempt (At least, not at the moment), revealed itself in the smile of relief and thankfulness he gave her.
He realized he had been dreading this encounter, even though he had insisted on it, but the fact she had remained the forthright woman he could now admit she had always been with him made him almost abashed.
He needed to acknowledge who she was and stop creating simulacra of what his fears punished him with.
She was the Miss Hardcastle of his experience, he acknowledged.
She was to be his Miss Hardcastle. It was decided: she was going to be his wife. Well, almost certainly.
He said nothing further but turned to the room’s chaperone.
“Lady Wentworth,” he stated, making a courtesy to her.
Barely waiting for her acknowledgement, Alec propelled himself out of the room, striding across the marble front hall.
Again, the butler attended the door and let him out with a bow.
Before he knew it, Alec was in the fresh air.
While he waited for his horse to be brought round to him, he realized he had made it over the finish line.
He had done it. Or almost. The die was cast. His future was underway.
It had all been terribly calm and civilized.
He was aware of a tremendous feeling of relief, though he felt a certain amount of roiling underneath.
He considered grabbing a whisky at his club but, no, he had promised.
He needed to find his daughter and break the news.