Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Three days had passed since May left the duke’s estate in the middle of the night, tear-stricken and heartbroken.
Two days since she’d gone by the pawnshop armed with nothing but pleas only to see the clerks scatter like roaches at her approach.
They’d slapped the door closed and disappeared, as if she were a leper.
One day since she’d gone to the market in the morning only to see the duke’s people shopping the stalls; she turned around and ran, before she could be recognized.
All that was in the past; today she was pressing her lady’s dresses with mechanical precision, even as the Lady Justina herself eyed her from the doorway.
“Would you put aside those dresses already and tell me what’s going on?”
“Nothing. I am perfectly fine.”
“Liar. I can see the circles under your eyes. Don’t you trust me enough to tell me why you came back early?”
May put aside the iron. She had no time for this: the coals in the iron would cool, and she would have to start all over again.
She thought she’d found the person who’d be her home; she was wrong.
There were better uses of her time than crying over milk that was never hers to spill in the first place. But the tears came down all the same.
Justina’s arms found her at once, and the next thing May knew, her body was wracked with sobs that didn’t sound like they could belong to her, and yet they did.
“I did something foolish.”
Once she started talking, she found herself unable to stop. The story of her and the duke poured out of her until all her secrets lay bare, and she’d been hollowed out once more.
“You should have come to me for the money,” Justina chided gently as she wiped May’s tears away with her thumbs. “I might not be as rich as the duke, but I would give my all to help you.”
“It doesn’t matter,” May looked away. Justina meant every word, and that was exactly why May wouldn’t take more than her friend could afford to give. “The necklace is already gone, and there is no getting it back. Some things just aren’t meant to be.”
“Just you wait until I see that abominable duke.”
Something in May bristled at that descriptor, anyway. “He isn’t entirely wrong—I did deceive him.”
“So? He is an utter fool not to see you for who you really are. You would have made an excellent duchess, and I intend to tell him so at the first opportunity.”
“Me, a duchess? This isn’t a fairyland: that was never on the table.”
“I know what I’m talking about. Who does he think he is, using you so ill?”
Who, indeed. May was so sure she’d uncovered his true nature, only to be undone when he turned out to be a stranger.
“I suppose I mistook a comet for the sun. I should have known better, and I’m fine, just a bit… singed.”
“You are a poet.” Her friend playfully nudged her nose. “Your torn heart certainly bears fruit: a couple more lesions on it and we could get you published in a journal.”
“Apologies.” May could not do much to conceal her blush. “I wasn’t thinking when I spoke.”
“You were thinking too much, but we shall remedy that with... a stroll, perhaps?” Justina frowned at May’s shaking head. “No? Something else, then?”
“Post, my lady.” The butler popped in with a knock on the door. The rest of the staff were long used to their lady hanging out in her servants’ quarters. “This one was marked as urgent.”
“Might that be your nameless mystery man?” May thought back to the night after the masquerade ball.
“He has a name!”
“One you didn’t invent?”
Lady Justina looked back at her with equal dismay and sheepishness before turning her attentions to the delivered envelope.
When May returned to Justina’s house, the man in question had already left, and her friend offered no explanations to that, either.
But May noticed the way she stirred every time somebody was at the door.
For a moment, it felt good to poke fun at her friend.
Then, May remembered she was ill-suited to comment on one’s choice in men, and her spirits fell once more.
“I am so thoughtless. Please, forgive me.”
Her friend looked up from the letter, took one look at May’s face, and smiled, as if nothing had been said at all. “Well, this is most fortunate: an invitation. Get your pelisse, dear May. Going out should provide your mind with some distraction.”
“I thought we were going to capitalize on my heartbreak.”
“Well, I am not crossing the idea off entirely yet,” said Justina, throwing her an odd look. “But let us see how the day goes, shall we?”
The carriage rattled as it bumped along through busy London streets.
May contented herself to play the chaperone to whatever house visit awaited them without complaint; she was not the only one who’d undergone a change in these last few weeks.
Though she did not know what happened, something had been brewing ever since her lady had rescued a man from that masquerade ball.
Justina hadn’t mentioned him, either, but May recognized the concern lingering beneath her friend’s collected demeanor. They made a fine pair, the two of them.
Before she knew it, the carriage had come to a halt, leaving them to disembark in front of a grand house on Pall Mall.
“Welcome to Christie’s, My Lady. Would you follow me?” An attendant led them inside.
What were they doing at the auction house?
May glanced at Justina but her friend was pointedly ignoring her as they were welcomed in.
The host brought them past the Great Room, its green walls covered in countless paintings, all observed by a small crowd gathered in anticipation of the auctioneer’s next item.
Their route brought them to another room, however, filled with stored canvases and half-closed curtains.
Deeper in the dim, a man braced himself on an archivist’s table, examining documents.
“Your Grace, may I announce Lady Justina Mallory.”
The man at the table straightened. Justina dipped into a curtsy. “Your Grace.”
May followed suit, obligated to follow the etiquette and marveling at how easy it was to slip back into the role of the servant.
She was content to fade into the background as a good servant must—no good decisions came of her time in the limelight.
Footsteps thudded on the weathered floor, and when she rose again, the Duke of Southam stood right before her, the rim of his spectacles catching in the little light that penetrated the room.
May froze in her tracks, her entire body uncertain whether to run or hide, or cry in relief.
She’d thought she’d never see him again.
Instead, there was Elias, appearing out of the darkness, as if he reserved that right specifically to shock her.
He bowed, as if Justina were his treasured guest. “Thank you for coming,” he said with utmost sincerity, before turning his gaze to May. “May we have a moment alone?”
“What is this? You knew he was here?” May couldn’t keep the shock from her voice as she looked to Justina.
“One word from you, and we are leaving,” Justina turned her back on the duke entirely, as if he had not spoken at all, and looked at May with deep concern.
But May was already shaking her head, even as she squeezed her friend’s hand in silent thanks.
She would not run away this time. It was time to wrap up their unfinished business once and for all.
“It’s all right.”
Lady Justina threw one last frosty look at the duke before walking out of the room, leaving May with nothing to do but to confront the absurdity of the situation.
“Elias…” His name sprang forth before she could think to withhold it.
Though he haunted her dreams, she could not imagine this meeting.
In fact, this barely even felt real: the disheveled man before her looked nothing like the controlled duke she’d come to know.
His cravat was loosened, the eyes behind his spectacles were wide and intense, and mud stained his shoes as if he’d walked the length of London.
Yet, as soon as the door behind them clicked shut, he rounded up on her with the familiar fierceness of their last fight.
“Are you out of your mind?” His voice resonated through her body. The duke towered over her, filled with dismay. “You tell Spencer you are a maid and then disappear! What were you thinking?”
She was too taken aback to respond with anything but an astonished scoff.
For the last three days, he’d tormented her heart from a distance, rending her nights into fragments of haunted sleep that were scarcely better than waking.
She’d prepared to grieve as long as the memories held, content to live in shadow…
Was that not enough? Yet he refused to let her off easy, bringing his accusations in person, making it impossible to ignore or even begin to forget him. How cruel dukes were!
Well, she would not let him off easily. May pushed back, letting her anger rise to the surface.
She refused to feel any smaller. “Was I supposed to hang around to be insulted further, as I am now? I must be out of my mind, indeed, Your Grace. Why bother going through this farce? We both know a maid like me is unfit to do so much as wipe your boots. Why, it is shocking to see you dare share a room with me without witnesses…. Are you not afraid I might entrap you?”
He ignored her cheek, merely blinking in confusion as if she’d interrupted his train of thought, before resuming his tirade with replenished vigor. “A maid! You should have been more specific! It took me five days to track you down, May Carr!”
She’d thought she’d left no trace to follow, not even her name, yet here he was, accusing her, in the flesh, and addressing her like he knew exactly who she was. It did something to hear her full name leave his lips. “How did you find me, then?”