Chapter Eighteen
“Had I been in love, I could not have been more wretchedly blind! But vanity, not love, has been my folly.”
FITZ
“HOW IS SHE?” KINGSTON STARTLED me.
I squeezed Monroe’s hand and ran my thumb over her smooth skin as I sat in the dim hospital room, lit mostly by monitors, listening to the rhythmic beeping of machines telling me she was alive. It had been hours since she’d fallen off that damn horse, and still she hadn’t woken. “I don’t know,” my voice croaked from repeatedly begging Monroe to open her beautiful eyes.
Kingston stepped closer. “I brought you a change of clothes and some food, sir.”
The faint smell of my favorite curry dish wafted my way. “Thank you, Kingston,” was all I could offer. I felt no inclination to eat or even change out of the ridiculous costume I was wearing. I couldn’t take my eyes off Monroe, covered in medical paraphernalia. Everything from a nasal cannula to electrodes placed on her gorgeous head.
“Have the doctors given you any information?” Kingston was hesitant to ask.
“Only that she puzzles them.” I could relate. She’d been puzzling me for years. “They can’t find anything wrong with her. Her brain activity appears normal, and she’s breathing on her own. There’s no swelling in her brain as far as they can tell, no broken bones, nothing other than her EEG waves showing that she’s dreaming. Yet she won’t wake up. It’s not a good sign,” I stammered, not wishing to admit it.
Kingston set the bag of food and the garment bag on the small couch in the room before pulling up a chair next to me.
I appreciated his calm presence more than he would know—he had a quiet confidence about him. Monroe called him a super babe. She said he reminded her of Gerard Butler in his prime, whatever that meant. I’d probably rolled my eyes when she’d mentioned it, but if truth be told, I found how she saw others endearing. Even if I admit to being a tad jealous she thought my estate manager was attractive.
“Don’t give up on her, sir.”
“I’m not. I can’t. Especially after ...” I was ashamed to admit to Kingston what I had said to her the night before.
“What is it? What happened?” Kingston was more than concerned.
“I hurt her. I told her she was too unconventional, and like a prat ... I ... I mentioned things she might want to think about changing for our image.”
Kingston’s face fell slack.
“It’s not the worst part. She thinks I kept myself from a relationship with her because I was embarrassed by her, that I don’t believe in her.”
“Is that true?” Kingston didn’t mince words.
“Of course not. Maybe ...,” I half conceded, wishing for it not to be true. “I was trying to protect her.”
“Pardon me for saying this, sir, but Miss Monroe doesn’t need your protection. She only needs your acceptance.”
Kingston was right, and his words packed a punch. I fell back in my chair, still gripping Monroe’s hand. “I don’t want there to be any more articles in the Daily Mail about her,” I lamely defended myself.
“You are the Duke of Blackthorne, sir. If you accept her, that holds more weight than some silly rag. And I don’t think Miss Monroe would care who did or didn’t accept her, as long as you did.”
I swallowed hard, feeling as if I’d just received a scolding—a much-deserved one. “She said as much.” I stared at the sleeping beauty, not stirring at all. “What if she never wakes up and I can’t tell her how sorry I am? How much I love her?”
Kingston offered me a small smile. “She’ll wake up for that. I think she’s been waiting years to hear that, and she wouldn’t miss it.”
I raised a brow. “You think she’s been waiting for me?”
Kingston shook his head as if to say I was dense. “I’ve known you both for seven years now.” Kingston had worked for my father before I inherited the title. “It’s been clear to me every time you bring Miss Monroe home that there was something special between the two of you. Relationships like yours don’t come along every day, sir. To be so comfortable around another person is a rare gift. But I could tell she tempered her feelings for you, and for good reason.” There he went again, sounding cross with me. “Your family is ... well ...” He thought the better of whatever he’d been going to say and instead murmured, “They’re different from Monroe.”
“You mean she’s love and sunshine and we’re proud berks?”
Kingston cleared his throat. “Those are your words, sir, not mine.”
I scrubbed a hand over my face, knowing he’d say the same and possibly worse about my family, and he’d be right. “My pride has cost me most dearly,” I admitted. “All the years I’ve wasted,” I lamented. “And now she ...” I couldn’t say the words.
“She’ll come through. You’ll see.” Kingston was more optimistic than me. “She’s probably having a very pleasant dream about helping someone.”
I chuckled as I imagined her running around with ten bonnets on her head, helping whomever she could to her heart’s content. “I wish I had told her how much she’s helped me throughout the years we’ve known one another instead of being a prick and telling her it would help our image if she didn’t try to rescue everyone she came across.” Why couldn’t I have just said, “You’re the first person I wake up thinking about and the last person on my mind before I fall asleep. Yours was the voice I needed to hear and the hand I needed to hold when I lost my father and had to take on this damn title. No one makes me smile like you or helps me to see the good in the world like you do.”
Kingston’s brow crinkled in a disapproving manner. “Perhaps, in that case, she hasn’t yet woken up because she’s trying to process living life without you. That can’t be an easy prospect for her. Sometimes we need our dreams in order to sort through things.”
I think I would rather have had Kingston slug me—his words landed a much harder punch than any fist. “Do you think I can bear the thought of being without her? I love her. I’ve always loved her,” my voice hitched unnaturally.
“I apologize, Your Grace. I’ve overstepped my bounds. There is no question in my mind that you love her. It’s been evident to me for years. Miss Monroe is an exceptional woman, and I think she helps people far more than she realizes.” He sounded as if he were speaking from personal experience, but he didn’t elaborate.
It made me wonder what he and Monroe talked about during their weekly calls. Did they discuss my sister? Was Kingston in love with Anna? I didn’t ask, not sure Kingston or Anna would wish me to pry. My only response was, “Monroe is the best person I know.”
Kingston nodded. “I apologize if I upset you. It wasn’t my intention.”
“I deserve your censure.”
“You did say I could speak my mind.” He grinned.
“I did.”
We both stared at Monroe for a moment in silence, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest. I hoped she was having the sweetest dreams, and that I was part of them—that somewhere deep inside she knew how sorry I was and that losing her would be the greatest tragedy of my life.
“Sir,” Kingston was hesitant to speak. “I’m not sure if this is a good time, but I have some news about Miss Monroe’s ex-fiancé.”
I raised Monroe’s hand and kissed it. “What news?”
“It appears that Tony Baker is not actually a guest at Pride and Prejudice Park. He is on their payroll.”
Shocked, I craned my head toward Kingston. “He’s an employee of the park?”
“Yes, and there’s more.”
“More?” I was still reeling from the first bit of information. I couldn’t imagine why the plumber was working for the park. Why had the park lied and said he’d paid to play Mr. Wickham?
A grim expression washed over Kingston’s features. “Yes, sir. Tony Baker embezzled a hefty sum from his last employer.”
“His last employer, as far as I know, is his family’s plumbing business.”
“That’s the one, sir.”
“That prick. He gaslit Monroe and made her feel as if it were her fault he was terminated, because she’d tried to help him. Sounds as if he was helping himself—it wasn’t her fault at all. But why come here, of all places? I know it’s not to win back Monroe.”
“I don’t know, sir, but I will keep digging.”
“Thank you, Kingston.”
Kingston stood. “If that is all, sir, I’ll leave you for now.” He gazed affectionately at Monroe. “She looks happy.”
I studied her more closely. Her lips seemed more curved, and my heart took hope.
“She’ll wake up when she’s ready to face what’s waiting for her.” Kingston gave me a knowing look.
“I’m waiting for her,” I assured him. “I’ll renounce my title if I must. The time is ticking, but I have a week to do so.” Under the Peerage Act of 1963, I had a year to disclaim my peerage.
“Sir, excuse me for being blunt, but I don’t think for one moment that would be her wish. All she needs from you is to believe in her. In my opinion, she would be a most excellent duchess.” He turned and walked away without another word.
I gathered Monroe’s hand between my own, taking in every part of her, from the contour of her cheeks and the graceful line of her jaw to her thick, dark eyelashes that seemed to tease me. “Please, Monroe, open those always-curious and engaging eyes of yours. I’m here and I’m yours. Forgive me for my ridiculous pride, please. I need you. I want you. All of you. We can even watch Love Never Dies if you want, though I know it will ruin The Phantom of the Opera for me.” Monroe thought we should at least give it a go because she was determined to watch every musical in existence, but I’d talked her out of it. “Wake up and let me help you make your dreams come true. Let me talk Duke of Blackthorne to you. I’ll make you forget you were ever obsessed with Mr. Darcy.” I half expected her to wake up and extol all the virtues of her beloved hero.
When she didn’t awake, I whispered, “Be my duchess, Monroe. I believe in you.”