Chapter 22

"So I suppose I lied to you," she sighed.

"What?" William asked.

"There is something you need to know. My parents, they are still alive."

"What do you mean?"

"I led you to believe that they were gone, so that you wouldn"t urge me to return to them," Miss Staunton admitted, "The truth is, they"re very much alive. But... after what happened, I couldn"t bear the thought of facing them. They are still here, but they do not wish to see me."

Her confession hung heavy in the air, yet William"s response was not one of reproach or condemnation, but rather one of empathy and understanding.

"I see," he murmured, his expression softening with compassion, "You were protecting yourself. I can understand that."

Miss Staunton nodded, grateful for his understanding but still burdened by the guilt of her deceit.

"Yes, I suppose I was," she admitted quietly, "It"s just too painful to face the reality of what I"ve done, of the rift I"ve caused in my family. And besides, if they no longer have a daughter, then I no longer have parents. In that respect, they may as well have passed away."

Her words hung in the air. She was clearly steeling herself for his judgment or reproach. What she hadn"t anticipated was the unexpected sound of laughter that came from him.

At first, it was a gentle chuckle, a soft exhale of amusement that caught her off guard. Then, as their eyes met and the weight of the moment seemed to lift, his laughter grew louder. Miss Staunton blinked in surprise, her initial confusion giving way to a tentative smile, and then, almost without realizing it, she found herself joining in.

"Nothing seems to come easy for either of us, does it?" William remarked with a sigh.

"No, I suppose not."

He glanced at Olivia, his gaze softening.

"But I want you to know that I believe you. About your parents, I mean. I also want you to know that I understand why you did what you did."

"Thank you, Your Grace," she replied, "I would have told you sooner, but I didn't want you to hate me. I still do not."

"Then it is just as well that I don't hate you, not at all. And I understand if you never wish to see them again. I would never suggest otherwise."

"I truly do appreciate that, because I love my life here."

"And everyone here loves you. It is strange, and something I didn't even want to admit myself for a long time, but everyone is all the better for you being here."

He noticed how she brightened at this, her cheeks turning pink and her eyes sparkling.

"And I"ve seen firsthand the good it has done for my mother," William added, "Even if I"m not always willing to admit it."

"I"m glad to hear that," Olivia replied, her voice soft with emotion, "Your mother means a great deal to me, and I"m grateful for the opportunity to be of help to her. I do wonder, though, why you struggle to admit it?"

"Because I couldn't do that for her," he sighed, "I tried, believe me I tried, but I couldn't see her in the way she was."

"I can only imagine how difficult it must have been for her," she murmured, her voice tinged with sympathy, "She was just so alone."

"Yes," he agreed quietly, "But her marriage to my father was even worse. She cried most nights when she thought that nobody could see her. I did, though. I am fairly certain that at some points my brother did too. Neither of us ever knew what to do about it. We were children, and it wasn't a matter for us, and even when we became adults it was too much for us."

"It was never your duty," Olivia said softly, "Their marriage was not for you to aid in. You have done your duty as a duke, and that is all that can be asked of you. I know that I haven't been the kindest about it, but the truth is that we have both been running away from what we must do. I should have remembered that from the start."

"As should I. You know, it"s no wonder she found solace in your company," he said gently, "You"ve brought her so much joy. I can see it in her eyes whenever she speaks of you."

"It means a great deal to me to know that she"s happy, especially knowing that I have a hand in it. It is a blessing to be here, Your Grace, truly it is."

"And I was so unkind to you. I knew it was unfair, but I couldn"t bear it any longer. It was as though everything I had struggled to do all of my life, you did with ease."

"I could say the same for you. After all, at least you have reconciled with your mother. I shall never see mine again, and I suppose I envy you for that. That was why I was so angry with you. You may have had a miserable excuse for a father, but your mother was infinitely better than mine ever was. I couldn't fathom why you would leave her behind."

"Looking back, nor can I. I feel like the worst excuse for a son."

"You did what you thought was best," she offered softly, "And I"m sure your mother understands that."

"It is simply for the best that I am never going to be a father myself, I suppose," he sighed, and Olivia stared at him.

"You don"t want children?" she asked.

"No, I don"t," he admitted, "I"m afraid that I"ll become just like my father. I can feel it happening. I"m already becoming like him, and I hate it."

"But you"re not your father," she insisted, her voice gentle yet firm, "You"re kind and caring, nothing like the man you fear becoming."

"You don"t understand. I am sure that once upon a time he was a wonderful and upstanding man, then he took a wife and sired an heir and a second son to boot, but it wasn't enough. Nothing was ever enough. We lived to disappoint and infuriate him, and it never changed until the day he died."

"I understand your fears, William," she said softly, "But you cannot let them consume you. I refuse to let fear dictate my future. I want to have children one day, and I"ll prove that I can be a better parent than I ever had."

"You truly believe that?"

"With all my heart," she affirmed, "It has to be true. There has to be something more for us than solitude with the exception of a few friends. I want love, Your Grace, and I always have."

William noticed the gentle warmth of Olivia"s hand resting against his own, but he didn"t pull away.

"So," he began, his voice soft, "As you want children, did that mean you were warming up to the idea of marriage?"

"Um... well," she stammered, searching for the right words, "I was fine with the idea before, as it was all that I thought I was here for, but now that I think about it I am sure that it is what I want. A husband that adores me and children to assure me that I am never sitting in silence. I hate silence."

"So, you truly do wish to marry now? I thought you were simply going along with it because you felt you had to."

"Yes, really, though you are correct. I was at first. I"ve always been cautious about the idea of marriage, given my parents, but lately I"ve started to see things differently."

"And what changed?" he inquired gently.

"I"ve come to realize that marriage doesn"t have to be like my parents". It could be something different. Something better."

"One can dream. In any case, that is what you deserve, and so maybe we should-"

She looked at him, and he lost every word that had been on the tip of his tongue. He did not wish to say what he was going to.

"Maybe we should what?"

"Maybe we should change our plan."

"Why?"

Because she deserved better than Scott, frankly. She always had, and it was not as though his brother had any interest in her whatsoever. He was far too preoccupied with Margaret, and that was not going to change unless he was forced, which was not what Miss Staunton had wanted.

"Because I want you to be happy, and I do not think Scott will help with that."

"Oh? Then who do you suppose will?"

"You tell me, Miss Staunton," he said softly, "Who would make you happy?"

"Someone kind," she nodded, "I do not ask for anything else."

"I see," he replied, his voice gentle, "And do you have anyone in mind?"

"Maybe. Perhaps it is someone you might know, then you could tell me whether or not you believe it to be a good idea."

"Well, whoever he is, he"d be lucky to have you."

William"s heart raced as he said that, realizing it to be exactly the case. She was funny and witty and kind, and she was mere inches from him. She looked at him and all that he could think about was how much he wanted to protect her, to be there so that no harm could come to her again. She was so tantalizingly close to him, and he could feel her breath on his face, and for a fleeting moment, he was tempted to close the gap entirely and kiss her.

But what did she want?

Certainly not a brute of a man that couldn't outrun his past, that was for sure. She wanted kindness, and that was something that he could not provide, he was sure of it. It was not in his nature.

Besides that, what if he misinterpreted her words? What if he ruined everything by acting on impulse? He had always planned everything so meticulously, and it had served him well, and any small mistake would ruin that, even take her away. It was then that, for the first time, he realized that he needed to keep her close by any means necessary.

No matter the cost.

"Goodnight, Miss Staunton," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Your Grace?"

"I must go. I require a word with my brother, and then I must retire to my bedchambers. It has been… It has been a day."

"A wonderful day, yes," she laughed softly, "In spite of certain circumstances."

He forced a weak smile.

"You will make a beautiful bride," he whispered, "And an excellent wife."

But not his. Never his. He couldn't do it to her, he refused to. She deserved every good thing that the world could offer her, and he was anything but good. It didn't matter how much he thought he had changed, how much he could change, it wouldn't be enough.

Nor would Scott, but he was a far better prospect. He was charming and daring and all of the things a lady would want, whether Miss Staunton would admit it or not.

He was all of the things that William would never be, and there was no changing that.

"I shall see you in the morning," he nodded before turning to leave.

"But, Your Grace–"

"Goodnight, Miss Staunton."

He wanted her to follow him, to tell him not to be ridiculous.

She stayed where she was.