Chapter 36 #3
“Elizabeth!” they exclaimed in varying tones of disbelief.
Their mouths and arms opened and closed like the beaks and wings of a flock of startled birds.
Louisa and Alix started toward her and then froze, as they realized that to ask where she had been would reveal to Anne that she had been missing.
So, it was Anne who finally broke the stunned silence.
“Elizabeth,” she demanded, “how long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to hear you call me a fool, which I have been. A fool in love with your brother.”
“So you say now.” Anne waved a slender hand dismissively. “But it doesn’t really matter. No one cares what you have to say anymore, Lady Elizabeth Harcrest. You are nothing now, nothing but my brother’s soiled leavings.”
“Actually.” James appeared behind Elizabeth, a hand upon her shoulder. “She is someone quite special. She is to be my wife and the future Duchess of Dinsmore.”
“Duchess of… Rafe would never allow this.” Anne nearly choked.
“I had thought to oppose it.” Rafe, who had been several steps behind the couple, entered the room. “But after some discussion, I found myself swayed by their arguments.”
“Elizabeth is with child. That must be it.” Anne shook her head, reached a hand to James.
“You don’t have to marry her. In all likelihood, it is not even yours.
I have reason to believe the whole family has been lying about Elizabeth’s whereabouts this summer.
” Her voice rose. “Who knows where she’s been or with whom? ”
“She’s been with me,” James said firmly. “And there is no child.” He slid his arm around Elizabeth’s slender waist and pulled her close. “But now that you mention it, I think I should like to have a child with her. Several, in fact.” He bent his lips to her ear. “What do you say, my love?”
“I say I’d like to wait,” she murmured, “at least until the signatures on our wedding certificate belong to someone besides Marcus.”
“After I return from France, we shall discuss it further.” His words tickled her ear, but his tone had grown serious at the mention of one of the men they had left behind.
“After you return from France?” she repeated, frowning. “Oh no, James Dinsmore, after we…” But whatever she had intended to say was interrupted by an agonized cry from Anne.
“James, how can you do this to me?” Tears were streaming down her face.
James turned to his sister. “Anne”—he shook his head gently—“this isn’t about you. It’s about what I want. I want Elizabeth. I love her. I want to build a life with her.”
“Love? Love?” She wiped a hand furiously across her eyes. “Where’s the security in that? You think you love this girl? You think it will last forever?”
“Yes,” he said, “I do.”
“And if it doesn’t? If she leaves you…if she dies…” Her eyes looked wild. “You’re bored! That’s why you want to marry her!”
“I was bored, bored with the empty dalliances and the emptier parlor-room gossip. And I was bitter. How else could I believe it would be amusing to seduce a young girl in her first season?”
“It was honorable,” Anne protested. “You did it for me.”
“For you, Anne, I almost convinced myself that by seducing Elizabeth I was saving your honor. But it was a lie, Anne. It didn’t make you happier; it only brought more bitterness…and it nearly destroyed Elizabeth. I brought disgrace upon us all.”
“You dare speak to me of disgrace? Have you any idea what sort of disreputable to Rafe. “Are you aware that your brother-in-law is engaged in trade?”
“I know all about Rafe’s activities.” He caught the eye of the tawny-haired man standing by the door, adding softly, “And I daresay mine would be accounted far more disreputable.” He turned back to face his sister.
“Do you honestly believe what Moreham has done to restore the Harcrest fortune is worse than what we have tried to do to restore ours? And tell me, Anne, which offends your sensibilities more—that he has put his hands to work or that he has succeeded?”
“The ton will hear of this.”
“The ton will not.” He corrected her sharply. “Elizabeth is family now. If you sully her, or the Harcrest name, you sully the Dinsmore name as well.”
Anne’s face tightened. “AGATHA,” she said loudly, “WE ARE LEAVING.”
“But the gardens.” Agatha’s voice quavered. “We haven’t seen the gardens.”
“I have seen enough.” Her shoulders tight, Anne Dinsmore swept stiffly from the red drawing room, her skirts clutched tightly in one hand, as though the hem might be soiled if it touched Elizabeth or one of the two men standing near the door. Nodding swift apologies, Agatha hurried after her.
Elizabeth clutched James’s sleeve. “Shouldn’t you go after her?”
James shook his head slowly. “It would serve no purpose. I cannot save her from herself.” He drew her into his arms as if they were alone. “And besides, my place is here, with you.”
“As mine is with you.” She cocked her head and a chestnut curl slipped over one bright hazel eye. “So, shall we honeymoon in France?”
He smoothed the curl back. “First we have to marry.”
“And then we’ll go to France?”
“We’ll see…” He bent his head to kiss her.
“We will indeed,” she said, putting a hand on his chest and stopping him.
James sighed. “You, my love, are most persistent.”
“Of course. It’s one of the many reasons you love me.”
“Indeed,” he agreed, and captured her lips at last.