Chapter Fifteen #2
Her grandfather paused a moment too long before answering. ‘You will think so, no matter what I say. But as it happens, there was a fire and all copies were lost.’
A fire?
There had been no such thing here. Percy would have told her if the solicitor’s office had burned. Did he mean he’d burned them himself? If he had, he’d have gloated about it, just to hurt her.
He went on as if the point was insignificant.
‘I have nothing to offer but my assurance that all I have done is in the best interests of my grandchildren. And so I will continue.’ He smiled at Louisa.
‘Your brother will have everything, after I die. And that time cannot be very far off.’ He coughed theatrically and looked at Louisa. ‘I suppose that makes you happy.’
‘Certainly not, Grandfather,’ she said. ‘I have always hoped that you live just as long as you deserve to.’
He smiled in satisfaction, but only for a moment. She could see the moment the ambiguous nature of her words reached his brain. His brow wrinkled as he tried to decide if he’d heard them correctly. She could not have meant what he’d thought he heard, for it had sounded almost like a threat.
She maintained her bland smile, careful not to let it become a grin.
With a slight shake of his head, he turned back to Thomas.
‘There is scant little money, in any case. My son was a wastrel, as is his son. Most of what was left has gone to fruitless trips to London. Louisa’s portion is already spent on ballgowns and shoe buckles.
She can sell them and live on the proceeds for all I care.
Married or unmarried, she will not see another tuppence from me. ’
She turned to Thomas, who looked ready to erupt.
While it might be entertaining to watch, it was probably counterproductive.
She smiled at him with an intensity that even she could feel was insincere.
‘I think my grandfather has made his point clear. Why don’t I show you to your carriage, Your Grace? ’
He stared back, nostrils flaring and eyes blazing, struggling to maintain control. The sight of her seemed to soothe him and in a few seconds he had calmed sufficiently to speak. He shot a final glare in her grandfather’s direction. ‘We are not through with this discussion, Skeffington.’
‘I beg to differ.’ Then, without waiting for leave or even saying goodbye, he rose and left the room. It was a spectacular breach of etiquette that would have embarrassed her, had she not been so eager to be rid of him herself.
She relaxed her smile, which now felt more like a grimace. ‘Perhaps you would like to see the garden, before you go, Your Grace?’ She still used her most formal, most conciliatory voice, in case the old man had paused to listen.
It took Thomas less than a blink to guess what she was doing and play his part. ‘If you are sure it is what you wish, Miss Skeffington, I will escort you for a turn around the garden.’
‘That would be delightful.’ Louisa rose quickly and stepped towards the door, offering her arm to Thomas so he might escort her.
They were silent until they reached the doors to the garden, and silent longer still, until they were away from the windows and she did not think they could be heard.
Even then, when she spoke, she was quiet.
She smiled up at Thomas, pointed to a flower and spoke without moving her lips. ‘He is probably watching us.’
Thomas turned his back on the house and looked down at the plant she was pointing to. ‘You must leave here with me today, Louisa. There is nothing more I can do to help you without involving my solicitors.’
‘Nothing more?’ she echoed, annoyed. ‘You could have admitted today what has been going on and finished this.’
‘I doubt it would have made a difference,’ he said. ‘He is set on keeping your money, no matter what happens.’
‘That is probably true,’ she said. The truth did not really matter to anyone but her.
‘I was a bit of an idiot, I’m afraid,’ he muttered with a shrug. ‘The scheme was doomed from the first.’
When she said nothing, he added gratefully, ‘That shows what a kind soul you have. Any other woman would berate me for letting this nonsense go on for so long.’
‘It does not really matter,’ she said, hating herself, just a little. Why was she always telling people that? It did matter. She mattered. ‘Perhaps there will be time to argue about it later, if you still wish to.’
‘You will get no fight from me. After the lies about your engagement and—’ he made a vague gesture probably meant to encompass what they’d done in the moonlight ‘—everything else? Your reputation has been ruined if there was anyone you wished to marry.’
Anyone she wished to marry?
Could he have not, at least, said anyone else? Was he really so blind as to ignore the truth? She’d never have made love with him if she was pining for another man.
‘It does not matter,’ she repeated, more for herself than him.
‘I am far more worried about your reputation. The world will think you are a trifler of women’s affections when you have to explain to the countess that there is no Tom Smith.
I hope it is not too late for that already.
What shall you do if she is already spreading the story about? ’
He looked down at the flowers again. ‘That is not a matter of flesh and blood. Just words. I have a perfectly good explanation.’ He reached down and plucked a daisy, then handed it to her. ‘I will tell her I was never trifling with you.’
Had he loved her since the first, then? If so, everything made sense. The ruse was just an elaborate game to make her prove her worthiness. Or perhaps he had been trying to win her hand.
Or perhaps it still made no sense at all? But it did not matter. He wanted to marry her!
He went on, paying no attention to her growing excitement. ‘After all, what is one more lie when I have told so many?’
‘Of course,’ she said in a weak voice, as her newborn happiness crystallised and shattered.
‘And after what we did together, the path forward is quite clear.’ He added a shrug to remind her that, like it or not, a decent man who had ruined a lady had no choice.
This was what she’d always hoped to hear, yet it was so very wrong.
If the way forward had only become clear to him because he’d taken her maidenhead, then he would only be offering for her out of duty.
Where was the talk of love that she’d heard from Tom Smith?
Today, she was with the duke and he made a union between them sound like an obligation.
His weight shifted and she feared he meant to drop to one knee. ‘We are being watched,’ she reminded him hoping to stall the inevitable for a moment.
‘What your grandfather sees does not matter to me. Soon it will not matter to you either,’ he said.
‘It does matter,’ she protested. ‘I would prefer that. If there is something you wish to say, be it done plainly and with no ceremony.’
He seemed surprised, but he did not smile. ‘It shall be as you wish.’ He took a breath. ‘Miss Skeffington.’ Another deep breath. ‘Louisa. Our sham engagement has been the most pleasurable time of my life. Would you do me the honour of making it a reality? Be my duchess. Be my future. Be my wife.’
The words were right. She’d imagined something similar more than once, when there had been no hope of it ever happening. He’d even been willing to get down on one knee while her grandfather watched.
But had he said anything of love? He had spoken of pleasure. But that might just as easily have described lust. And he’d admitted that he had not been sure at first. He had also lost sight of their original goal.
‘What of my inheritance?’ she asked. ‘It was the reason you came here, after all.’
‘You will not need it,’ he said. ‘I certainly do not. I came here because I wanted to know that you would be happy and taken care of. I have more than enough money to look after you. I will do everything in my power to see that you are happy.’ He took another breath and grimaced slightly.
‘I think it is time to admit that I am no use to you as Tom Smith. He could not help you. But Bonham can, if you will let him.’
‘No.’
The word hung in the air for a moment. She could almost see it, shimmering between them, then popping like a bubble to reveal his shocked face.
She did not blame him. She was almost as surprised as he was. His words today had made it clear. Tom Smith had been openhearted, free with his love and unashamed to speak it. He’d come here, sure that love was all they needed to succeed. To survive.
But it was the duke who had proposed. Bonham had been a beautiful dream, but he was not enough.
‘No,’ she repeated, sure of her decision.
‘You do not want to marry me?’ he said, stunned.
He wanted an explanation. If she gave it, he might even say the words she wanted to hear, like a trained parrot. But love gained like that would mean nothing. Her mind raced to find an excuse.
‘When I was in London, I ran Percy’s household for him,’ she said cautiously. ‘Here I do the same for my grandfather.’
‘You are very efficient,’ he agreed. ‘Sensible and smart. The table is superb. The servants seem happy. You will make an excellent wife. I could not find a better duchess.’
‘If I married you, it would be more of the same,’ she agreed blithely.
‘Only more so. I would go from running one household to running an even bigger one. More servants. Several properties. Parties and balls to organise. Charities to run.’ The words tumbled out of her as she imagined her future.
‘It would be nothing like living in a rose-covered cottage.’
‘You would be a duchess,’ he repeated, as if this should be every woman’s goal.