Chapter Twelve
Shaw House
Portman Square
Mayfair, London
With a groan, James came awake just as the carriage-style clock at his bedside softly chimed the eleventh hour of the morning.
It had been two days since that life-changing afternoon with Eloise in his drawing room at the hunting lodge.
Two days since she’d told him the secret that had haunted her life.
And two days since he realized that he was falling for his tart-mouthed, sensitive fiancée.
That couldn’t be allowed to happen, for nothing good could come of it.
And if he didn’t stop those emotions, those feelings from forming, it would prove more difficult to go through with the last bit of plans he had.
Sitting up, James swung his legs over the side of the bed.
He’d passed a horrible night. Yesterday, he and Eloise had returned to Town, and for the first time since he’d met her, he wasn’t in her company.
She wasn’t just down the corridor from him.
That caused an odd transition, which had prompted nightmares.
New ones because this time they featured her.
What if something happened to her?
The dreams swirled around the worry that her father had taken her away from him.
Then the nightmares shifted and the movers and shakers of society had deemed her too far below him in status and called their marriage a sham.
She was ripped to shreds by gossip, but it had been the look of desolation and annoyance on her face when she couldn’t find him.
Perhaps their marriage would be exactly that, since he didn’t intend on staying with her that long.
Over the past two days as he battled with these thoughts, the darkness descended upon him more and more despite the fact he enjoyed being with her.
This time, that depression felt more oppressive than it had been in the past, and what was more, he couldn’t beat it back as easily.
Was it due to getting closer to her and emotions were coming into play?
And what would happen after he left this mortal coil? Thankfully, she didn’t have feelings for him beyond friendship, so she should be all right once he was gone. Yet the thought that his actions might put tears in her eyes cut him to the quick.
Why am I feeling anything at all for her to begin with? That isn’t who I am.
Yet in Eloise’s company, he couldn’t help but think he was changing in tiny ways whether he wished to or not. Was it a good thing? A bad thing? There was no way to tell, for at the heart of the matter, he was still too damned broken to be of use to anyone.
With a heaved sigh, he left the bed. He’d wallowed long enough, but now there were things in his diary he needed to attend to.
There was the special license to apply for.
Then he would meet with his solicitor. There was legal paperwork to draw up that would redirect some of his coin and properties to Eloise in the event of the inevitable.
Despite everything, he wanted to restore her faith in men, and if she was already carrying his child, she could raise it wherever she desired without difficulty, or rather without further difficulty since the world was already monstruous.
Yet at the back of his mind was a niggle of a memory, of a day in that village where she’d lived, the muddy recollection of a man with spectacles… Was that Jean-Claude? He needed time to bring it to the forefront, for good or for ill.
Later that afternoon
No sooner had James settled into his favorite chair in the drawing room with a book than the butler cleared his throat in the doorway.
“Pardon my interruption, Your Grace, but there is a Mr. March and Miss March here to see you. Are you at home to visitors?”
At the mention of her name, his pulse accelerated. Slowly, he stood up from the chair and let the book tumble to the cushion. “Please, send them up and order tea.”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
When Martin departed, knots of worry pulled in James’ gut. This was the first time meeting Eloise’s father. Had she told him everything that had transpired between them? Would he demand a duel, even though they were illegal?
Standing near the fireplace with its cheerful flames, he tightened his hand on the head of his cane while the other he rested on top of a winged back chair in blue crushed velvet.
Seconds later, Eloise was shown into the room by the butler, and his heart squeezed.
God, had she always looked so elegant, so lovely?
Her dark brown upswept hair gleamed in the candlelight.
The navy satin gown she wore clung to her curves and enhanced her figure.
With every movement, the sheen of the fabric kept his attention on her.
“It is good to see you again, Eloise.” If his voice was a bit choked, he couldn’t help it, for he had missed her these past two days.
“Hullo, Your Grace,” she said with an awkward curtsy as she indicated with her eyes her father who followed her. “I would like to introduce to you my father, the former ambassador to France, Mr. Gregory March.” Then she turned to her sire. “Papa, this is my fiancé, the Duke of Blackhawke.”
“Ah, the man who caused a scandal with my daughter then took it a step further by kidnapping her so that every tongue in London wagged about her.” The other man glared at James. “How dare you cause such trauma for Eloise.” Anger threaded through his low tone.
Immediately defensive, James lurched forward a few steps. “Be careful, Mr. March. Perhaps you’ve forgotten whom you are addressing.”
“I know exactly who I’m speaking with.” The man with thinning dark brown hair and the same eyes as Eloise met James in the middle of the room and dared to poke a forefinger into his chest. “You are not good for my daughter.”
“Papa, stop,” she implored her father. The concern in her expressive eyes went straight to James’ heart.
Both of them ignored her. James narrowed his eyes.
“Your opinion has no bearing on my engagement to Eloise. Neither does the scandal. I have chosen her, and she has done the same to me.” There was a certain amount of pride in the statement, which made him all too smug.
“What is more, we shall marry in a couple of days, or as soon as the license is approved.”
Shock warred with anger in the former ambassador’s face. “You should have asked my permission for her hand.”
“I was rather otherwise occupied at the time,” he shot off, and was immediately contrite when she gasped. “I apologize,” he said to her with a tight grin. To her father, he said, “If you continue to antagonize me, perhaps you would prefer pistols at dawn? Be warned, I am quite a good shot.”
For long moments, Mr. March glared at him while James treated him the same way. Finally, her father shook his head. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“Oh, trust me, I am. Every damned day of my life for a multitude of sins.”
“You don’t deserve Eloise.”
“I am well aware of that too, Mr. March.” A man couldn’t intimidate another man who already knew his flaws.
“She can do so much better than you, even if you are a duke,” Mr. March said as he crossed his arms at his chest.
“I quite agree, but I refuse to have her name dragged through the mud. At least if she marries me, she’ll be under my protection, and no one would dare to stir my wrath.
” He lifted an eyebrow. “Will there be a further dressing down? I had hoped to find some quiet time before dinner, which you are both more than welcome to share with me, of course.”
The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a footman bearing a tea tray. Eloise, good soul that she was, took command and showed the young man where to put the tray. Then she busied herself by pouring out cups.
“Perhaps the two of you could come sit down and converse like civilized gentlemen instead scratching about like overinflated peacocks,” she asked with a hefty dose of aggravation in her tone.
Her eyes flashed brown fire. “This is not how I had envisioned this meeting, and quite frankly, you are both ruining something that has the potential to be lovely.”
Heat crept up the back of James’ neck. “You are correct, of course, and I apologize.” He glanced at Mr. March. He couldn’t blame the man for being concerned. “Please, share tea with me. I would like to come to know you better.”
For the space of a few heartbeats, silence reigned.
Then the other man nodded. “I am not best pleased at what you’ve done to my daughter, or the highhandedness you’ve shown in forcing her into this engagement, but I understand the reasoning.
However, that doesn’t mean I will support her marriage to you, either.
” He huffed out a breath. “Yet my daughter informs me she wishes to see it through. She says she trusts you.”
Unexpectedly, his heart constricted when he glanced at Eloise, and she offered him a wry smile.
“I appreciate that. Your daughter is one of the only people I trust as well.” Damn, but he’d missed her.
Once the former ambassador sat on the sofa next to his daughter, James dropped heavily into a chair nearby.
“I’ll admit that what I did perhaps was beyond the bounds of polite society, but that doesn’t matter, for I’ve made things right by her.
Your daughter will be a duchess of some influence. ”
“To a man who doesn’t value her or even love her!”
“Enough, Papa,” Eloise said as she put a teacup firmly in her father’s hand. “The duke is not nearly as horrid as other men can be. This marriage was never meant to be about love.”
“Such ridiculous stuff.” He glared again at James. “Do you even know anything about her? Has she tried to paint while with you?”
Surprise smacked into his chest as he looked at her. “You are a painter?”
“I was, before life shifted.” Shadows reflected in her eyes. “I haven’t felt like being creative of late.”
“And she probably won’t while she’s with you,” her father said with much bitterness in his tone.