Chapter 51
Fifty-One
After several days of travel, with Alec pushing the horses hard, the Selkirk carriage rolled into the drive leading up to the main entrance of the Hardcastle estate. He looked at his daughter. What was he even doing here? Marjorie met his gaze with a direct response of her own.
With an abrupt “Damnation!” he launched himself out of the carriage. His arrival had been noted, and a footman had raced down the front stairs, followed closely by the butler. Knowing he was being impossibly rude, Alec barked, “Where is Miss Hardcastle?”
Both men gaped at him. Then the butler—Moore, was it? He could never be sure of the man’s name—stammered a response, “In the kitchen gardens, Your Grace.”
Alec turned to look at his daughter, leaning out of the carriage window. “For you, Marjorie, I will parley again. And then we leave. We go home. We make our own way. Yes?”
“Yes, Papa,” and Marjorie retreated all the way back into the carriage’s interior.
“Show me the way,” he demanded of the footman.
“Yes, Your Grace. This way, Your Grace.”
Alec followed the man around the side of the house, past the French doors which looked down onto a sloping lawn, and around to the back, where a wicket gate led into a small, walled garden.
“Thank you. You may leave me.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Alec yanked open the gate and shut it behind him with a snap. He faced a tidy and snug garden, filled with a variety of flowering plants and vegetables, planted in neat rows. Where was she? There was no room for her to hide in here.
And then he saw her. She was seated on a small stool, with a basket and a knife for cutting at her feet.
She appeared to be staring at a large carrot she was holding in one hand, as though she had never seen it before.
Her bonnet had fallen back, and the sun was picking out strands of red and gold in her hair.
He stopped. It was her, not the image in his dreams or in his imagination.
It was really her, living and breathing in front of him.
A feeling of overwhelming tenderness swept over him. He froze; he could not breathe.
The sound of the gate closing prompted a heavy sigh, which he could hear from where he stood. She pushed herself to her feet, picked up basket and knife, and tossed in the carrot. She reached back to pull her bonnet back onto her head, and in that moment she saw him.
Aurora gasped and drew herself back to stand as tall as she was able.
Alec watched her tuck in a curl which had fallen out from under her bonnet and was hanging over one eye.
He both wanted to touch that curl himself and run away as far and as fast as he could.
Her eyes looked haunted. Was her face thinner than it was the last time he saw her?
The pain of seeing her again, just standing there, after he had mentally tried to banish her from his mind, was intense.
But he was here. He had to parley, even if it killed him.
His mind a complete blank, Alec somehow moved forward to stand within two feet of her. He stopped, then bent into a short bow.
“I come to bring my deepest sympathies on the loss of your father. And I, I have come to parley with you.”
* * *
Aurora swallowed. Just breathe, Aurora, just breathe.
It seemed to have become a common instruction she gave herself of late.
All these months, having him gone, telling herself she would never see him again, and then abruptly having him appear in front of her hit her like a blow to the stomach.
All the air left her, and she struggled to take her next breath.
The hard-fought equanimity, the acquiescence, the acceptance she had believed she had brought herself, vanished in an instant.
Alec was here, the actual person, and not the figure who stalked her dreams. The sight brought with it the ache of losing him all over again.
It was like being back in the office, hearing the door slam, then later, listening to the sound of the carriage’s wheels as it rode away, back up the drive. Back up to Scotland.
But he was not in Scotland. He was here.
This could not be. It was impossible. But he didn’t waver or vanish like a ghost. The man in front of her was definitely solid, with the same dark eyes and vivid physical presence she had tried to erase from her memory.
She remembered what it felt like to be kissed by him, what it felt like for her to kiss him.
“Why are you here? After all this time? I thought we said all that needed to be said,” Aurora finally managed to reply.
“Clearly, we have not. Clearly, there is more to be said. It has driven me all the way down from Scotland. Yes, you said your piece. Yes, I said mine. I confess, I do not know how we are to bridge the gap that lies between them. I take it you have not changed in your intent to run the manufactory. Especially now that your father— Again, my condolences. I know how close you were to him. Nevertheless, I am here to parley.” His words were clipped and short.
She watched how stiffly he was holding himself. Why was he here?
To break what was becoming an agonizing silence, Aurora spoke first. “I offered you a partnership.”
“And I am looking for a wife.”
Aurora’s reply was swift, “No, you are looking for money. And a mother for your daughter. And you wish to command the woman who can bring both of these to you. I am able to agree to—acquiesce to—the first two propositions. I cannot agree to the third.”
Alec shook his head at her. “Whyever not? It is the way things are. It is the way things are done. If you wish to be a duchess, you must behave like a duchess. And my daughter—” he abruptly cut off what he was saying, his mouth snapped shut into a tight line.
But there was something about his eyes, Aurora could see. What was it about his eyes?
Aurora took a quick breath, but kept her voice measured.
“I can agree with you that I do not know all I need to know to be a duchess. For that, yes, I will need to take advice and direction from you as, clearly, in this area, I am lacking. But how I conduct my life? No, that direction must come from me. I know it needs to come from me. After these many months, I am more certain of that than before.”
Alec said nothing. He simply stood there, looking at her.
Aurora let out a sigh, and pressed on, “Alec, why are you here? You do understand. I know you understand. Well, at least I very much hope you do. But it is not what you are used to. And I was wrong. I thought, even if it is not the thing that is done, you might, at least for your daughter’s sake, be open to considering a duchess who is like me.
Really me. Not some made up version of me.
I hoped, you would see me for myself. I also see I was a fool. ”
Alec did not interrupt her, but she saw him flinch. Yet he remained silent, not stopping her words.
Like a blind woman, she desperately kept pushing herself toward clarity, all her self-doubt tumbling out, accusing him as much as revealing her own fears. “Do you believe it lowers you in the eyes of the Ton? Being with someone like me? Someone who wants to chart a different path?”
That provoked an outburst on his part. “I don’t care a farthing for what the Ton have to say about the way I live my life. They can piss themselves into pots until the cows come home. I do not care. I do not wish to disadvantage my daughter in any way, however.”
“And neither do I.”
Aurora watched him suddenly deflate. For a moment, his constant military posture deserted him. If he could have slumped down with weariness, she knew he would have. How well she still knew him. But again, how much about him she did not know or, at least, could not allow herself to trust.
A silence again fell between them, but this time Aurora did not break it. So, he did. “Aurora, I do not know what to say. The same barriers that drove us apart remain. I do not know what words to use. I do not know how to make this work. I do not know.” There was a note of pleading in his voice.
Aurora could feel the tears welling up. She was so tired of tears.
The tears after his departure. The tears of missing him, of missing Marjorie, of missing what might have been.
On top of all of those, the tears of missing her father.
Would she never see the end of these tears?
She sucked in a breath and tried to keep them at bay, to find a way to bring peace and healing to her own heart.
“You may go in peace, Alec. I will live my life; you will live yours. May you find yourself a beautiful and wealthy duchess who gives you everything you want and need, and whom you can love. My heart remains with Marjorie—I want her to be happy.”
He shot back with, “Just with Marjorie, then?” He halted with a gasp. She watched the realization of his own words break across his face.
Aurora started, then threw the basket with its tiny knife and carrot down on the ground. “Of course not just with Marjorie, you ridiculous, stubborn, impossible man!” She put her hands over her face for a moment, before raising her head back up to meet his eyes.
“I love you,” she blurted out. “I know it is not necessary for a marriage within the Ton, but I do. How I wish I did not. But I will not, I absolutely and utterly refuse to melt into your arms and say, ‘Oh, Alec, my love. I will do, I will be whatever you want me to be.’” She affected the pose of a simpering maiden and then snapped back upright.
“I. Will. Not. If you want my money, if you want me to mother your daughter, you have to take me, just as I am. I can come to you no other way.” She drew a ragged breath.
“I deserve to be loved and treasured, for myself, and not be tolerated as an afterthought or some type of necessary evil.”
Aurora lifted her head to look defiantly at him.
She watched his shoulders come back up and saw his teeth clench.
He took a step toward her and then stepped back.
He looked to right and left, but he was clearly not seeing.
The expression on his face kept changing, emotions clashing, his thoughts evidently at war with themselves.
He looked angry, then anguished, then sad, then back to angry, though she could not tell if it was with her or with himself.
Something had been let loose in him, and he appeared to be of several minds on what to do next.
And then, he smiled. It was a slow, sad smile.
As if he were looking at himself for the first time, unsure of what he saw.
Something appeared to settle in his shoulders—they relaxed.
The look in his eyes was direct. And warm.
He appeared to be both a man who was drowning and one who had just begun to wade ashore.
He slowly shook his head. The smile turned rueful.
Like an echo, something settled further inside Aurora.
She fully saw herself in his gaze. And what she saw there?
It gave her the courage to step closer to him, until they were less than an inch from each other.
She wanted to let him know she understood now.
That is, she saw the impasse between them yet knew it was also providing them with a bridge.
How, she did not know. But she also knew she was willing to fight for that bridge.
“Alec, I would never say you were ridiculous.”
“Aurora, you just did!” The protest, if protest it was, was tinged with that same humility. And humor. A wry humor that warmed her to the tips of her toes.
“All right, yes, I did.” Her smile, she knew, was rueful, too. It was both an apology and a refusal to back down. The moment hung there, between them.
“And did you say you love me?” This was almost a whisper from Alec, with a note of wonderment in it.
“Yes, I said that as well.”
Alec sighed. “And there it is, the nub of all of this. Because I love you, too, Aurora. Not for your fortune, which, yes, is quite nice and very helpful, and, yes, I had mercenary motives when I first began to pay court to you, but—not for your fortune. It is, however, accurate to say: partly for Marjorie. Damnation! I am babbling.” He stopped and took a deep breath.
“For all of that, I love you completely, and almost unreservedly, for you.”
“Almost?” she murmured. Their faces were very close now.
“I am working on it, Aurora. This is all, this is all very new to me. A businesswoman. An independent woman. A—what did you call it? A partnership of equals?”
“So you were listening!”
“Aurora, I have been listening to everything you say. Did you not know that?” He shook his head again.
“That doesn’t mean I have agreed with all of it.
I have, in fact, quite firmly objected to a great deal of it.
” He paused and then continued, as if he were taking a vow.
“I am willing, however, to set down the terms as you have laid them out, and sign.”
Aurora looked up at him. His eyes were still warm and affectionate.
She knew they saw her, and not through her.
She remembered a thousand kindnesses. She remembered the touch of his lips on hers.
She noted his honesty. She felt his humor.
And she saw the wonder in his eyes as he looked at her, as if her love was a thing of great value to him.
This moment, his understanding? It was not perfect. On either of their parts. But it was a beginning. A foundation.
She reached up and gently touched his cheek. He put his hand up, cupped hers, and turned it over, lightly planting a kiss on her palm. Her hand and his—they fitted together. While his was the larger, it somehow did not swallow hers.
If she was asking for a partnership, well, that partnership also started with her.
And she had made so many errors herself.
She knew what she wanted, but she also realized she had a great deal to learn.
After the tempest of the last few months, from the day he had driven away to this moment, she felt she had finally reached the storm’s eye.
It was quiet. And clear, so very clear. She could see far over the horizon, and this time it was not empty.
Because, yes, finally, Aurora was sure Alec did care for her. It sat inside her like a warm glow.
It was a risk—it was a gamble—this marriage business. But a risk with him, oh, it could be glorious. “Then I accept, Your Grace.”
“Pax?”
“Pax.”
A few minutes later, Alec murmured into her hair, “You asked me what I wanted, Aurora. And it is you. Always and forever, you.”
“Damnation,” she whispered.
And there was no more talking for a while.