Chapter 22

Elizabeth lay in her bed, the rhythmic sounds of knocking and hammering from nearby construction sites filled the morning air, providing an oddly soothing backdrop to her thoughts. The burgeoning city of New York buzzed with energy as wealthy businessmen, much like her father, expanded their empires by buying up plots of land to erect grand mansions. These sprawling homes, each more opulent than the last, were symbols of success and power in the bustling metropolis.

Elizabeth had returned home just three days ago, completing a six-week voyage from England—a journey she had hoped would clear her mind and soothe her wounded spirit. Yet, the familiar sights and sounds of New York did little to ease the ache in her heart. Instead of the warm embrace of home, she felt a stark disconnect, and the sense of belonging Elizabeth anticipated feeling once home was deplorably absent. She felt unmoored, her heart no closer to healing than it had been a week ago.

The nightly dreams had not stopped. Staring at the ceiling, she fought to recall her dream, for in that realm with James, there was only laughter and happiness, a feeling of pure contentment, and those sensations lingered with her as she drifted from sleep into awareness. Once fully awake, only a sense of heartbreak plagued her. She pushed from the bed, ringing the bell to summon her lady's maid. Once Magda arrived, she helped Elizabeth perform her morning toiletries. An hour later, she was presentable in a bright golden gown that flattered her shape, with her hair caught up in an artful chignon. She ventured downstairs, seeking out her father in his study.

"Bette," he said warmly, rising to enfold her in a hug. "How I've missed you. Have I told you?"

"Yes, Papa," she said, smiling. "At least six times."

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. They parted, and she went to sit on the sofa close to the window, curling her feet beneath her legs in a rather unladylike manner. Her father did not rebuke her, and even if he had, Elizabeth would have ignored it.

Her father sat behind his rather impressive oak desk and stared at her with quiet contemplation. Elizabeth knew he sensed her despondency, but he had not probed. It was one of the qualities she appreciated most about her father: his gentle understanding and patience.

"I received a rather enlightening letter from your mother, Bette."

Swallowing her groan, she met her father's steady regard. "Oh?"

"Hmm." He plucked up two envelopes. "It seems you left a scandal behind in London, one that you were remiss in telling me about."

"Did mama inform you it was a scandal of her own making?"

Her father's expression softened. "She explained the whole of it to me, Bette. Your mother is shattered."

A spark of ire lit in her chest, but it quickly vanished, for she felt that even then, she had no more emotions to give. "I am sure mama is only out of sorts because the duke did not fall in line with her machinations. I presume mama told you the full truth of it, Papa?"

"She did."

Elizabeth smiled tightly. "Who knew someone could be so against their choices being stolen from them," she said caustically. "Mother and Aunt Sally certainly never imagined it."

There was a ponderous silence while she held her father's regard. Regret and pity gleamed from his gaze. Unable to bear that pity, Elizabeth glanced away and peered out the window to the lovely side gardens where lilies were in full bloom.

"Bette, your mother is deeply regretful that she wounded you. She is shattered because she fears that she lost your love and trust."

A lump formed in Elizabeth's throat, and tears stung her eyes.

"Your mother apologized and—"

"She has, and Aunt Sally, too. I know I will eventually forgive her and Aunt Sally, but it will be done on my time, Papa."

He sighed. "I understand. I wish your mother had returned so we could best discuss everything as a family." Her father held out a small envelope to her. "Your mother sent this for you. I have not read it, and she urged you to read it right away."

Elizabeth paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts before she rose from her seat and approached her father to take the envelope he offered. She opened it and frowned, for she expected to find a letter from her mother. Instead, it was a folded piece of newssheet clipping.

"It is not a letter," she murmured. "It's another scandal sheet mention."

Dearest readers,

It is my duty to share a letter I personally received from the Duke of Basil. I never imagined I would be honored to receive a letter personally from the duke. I was shocked and fascinated by his sincerity. Who knew one of society's most scandalous rakes could be this poignant and threatening in the same breath? This author sincerely apologizes to Miss A and retracts the baseless gossip I erroneously shared without proof. It was never the Daily Gossip's intention to be slanderous and injurious. I share the duke's letter with you all for this author believes it reveals the duke has finally met his match, and I daresay he might have found love.

Her heart hammering, Elizabeth stumbled to sit on the sofa, already feeling as if the floor had vanished from beneath her legs. She had truly thought herself beyond the possibilities of such hope again.

Lady C,

My honor demands that I address a matter of grave concern that has been brought to my attention. Recent publications under your direction have chosen to promulgate slanderous and unfounded accusations against a young lady of exceptional character, whom I hold in the highest esteem. It is a gross misjudgment to propagate such scathing and condemnatory remarks about circumstances outside your understanding. I find it unforgivable.

You will consider the impact of your words, which have not only sullied Miss A's reputation but also deeply offended me. I will not stand idly by while her character is so wrongfully maligned. I will defend Miss A's honor without hesitation or remorse against anyone perpetuating these baseless claims. Should you or anyone wish to challenge the veracity of my intentions, be assured that my actions will be swift.

This correspondence, while perhaps fueling further gossip, is necessary to uphold the principles of decency and respect. The speculation it incurs should remain within the realm of private contemplation, as the public discourse on the matter will only further impugn my honor and that of Miss A, whom I deeply respect for her kindness, warmth, and compassionate spirit.

Miss A has never sought to manipulate me into marriage or any other obligation, understanding that she already commands my deepest regard and utmost respect. Any such action would be beneath her dignity and honor. I demand an immediate retraction of all statements made against her. This retraction should be published prominently in your next issue and all other newssheets that have participated in disseminating these falsehoods.

I trust you will act accordingly.

The Duke of Basil

Tears stung Elizabeth's eyes and blurred her vision, and no matter how hard she tried to blink them away, she couldn't stop them.

"My dear," her father said softly, "what is it?"

Unable to speak past the knot of emotions in her throat, she held it out to him. Her father took the clipping and read it. After a few beats, he said, "This is the gentleman your mother acted so egregiously against."

"Yes."

"He has done rather well in defending you," her father said, "He also has the reputation and connections to stand by his words. It is rather interesting that he chose to do this."

Her heart squeezed painfully, and she wiped the tears from her cheeks. "I … we … we were friends."

Elizabeth could not say more, nor would she dare to hope that this act of salvaging her reputation meant more.

"Perhaps this gentleman loves you and—"

The laugh that came from her felt as if it scraped against her throat. "I have no wish to speculate on His Grace's meaning. I am only thankful he realizes I had nothing to do with it. But Father, please do not believe this means anything or that he forgives mama and aunt's deplorable actions."

She stood and lifted her chin. "Today, I shall take a walk."

"Do you wish to go to him?"

Shocked, she stared at her father. "No." Each time she recalled the cold disgust in his gaze on the steps of his mother's townhouse, her chest squeezed, and it felt as if her heart shattered again.

"Love is worth fighting for," her father said, intently searching her face. "I suspect you love this gentleman. I have never seen your eyes so dull."

His soft words pierced her heart. She rose onto her toes and brushed her mouth against his cheek. "They will brighten again, Papa, in time."

Then she turned and hastened from the room, unable for him to see the deep unhappiness that must be naked on her face.

She already commands my deepest regard and utmost respect.

Those words were knocking around in her heart. They were not words of love or affection, though she doubted any sane person would profess such intimate thoughts to the gossip sheets.

I am overthinking the matter.

It would be silly and outrageous to attach more meaning to his letter to the Daily Gossip than what the duke meant.

What love am I to fight for, Papa? But I want to because I love him so very much. I shall write to him and express—

Elizabeth's thoughts fractured, and she froze, staring at the man walking down the long hallway of her father's home. She closed her eyes tightly, and when she snapped them open, he was closer, appearing windswept and dashingly handsome. Her heart skipped into an uneven cadence. The memories of their time together leaped between them—every kiss, each dance at a ball, each time they tumbled together into making love, their shared laughter and long conversation. "James?"

She heard a sharp inhalation and knew her father was behind her, but James only had eyes for her. Elizabeth felt such chaotic emotions she could only press a hand over her chest and stare at him.

"How can you be here?"

The duke stared at her solemnly. "Elizabeth, I am so damn sorry. There should not have existed even a second where I doubted the honesty of your character."

He sounded so sincere, so deeply honest, that she wanted nothing more than to believe in him.

"I … why are you here … how … I …" She pressed a hand to her throat, her heart slamming far too painfully inside her chest. "I have only been home a few days; that day would mean …"

"I left England the day after you departed. Your brother mentioned that you vowed never to return." His eyes were pools of molten silver, filled with love and regret. "There are so many things I wanted to say to you … so many nights I stared at the ocean and practiced, for they were words unfamiliar to me because I have never said them to another soul. Now that I am here … and you are before me … I am fucking breathless and without any damn words. I can only feel and what I am most certain of is that you are my beloved."

Oh!Elizabeth almost sobbed at the fierce emotions tearing through her.

Her father made another sound of shock, and Elizabeth could feel the color rising hotly to her cheeks. Then, she heard the sound of a door closing behind her, and she realized he had retreated to give them privacy.

"I do not know where to start," James said gruffly, taking another step closer but still maintaining a respectable distance.

"I … my mother sent me the newssheet with your letter," Elizabeth said softly, taking a single step toward James, tears running down her cheeks. "I daresay you have started another scandal."

His intense and unyielding gaze locked onto hers, conveying a depth of sincerity that pierced her defenses. "I love you, Elizabeth, so much it damn well hurts. Forgive me for being a fool. If you would do me the honor by being my wife, my friend and my duchess, I vow I will never give you cause to regret it. If you have no wish to live in England, we will live here, and I will travel for my duties in Parliament."

"You would … you would do this?"

A tenderness entered his gaze, and he smiled. "Yes, Elizabeth, I will."

She dashed into his arms. James hugged her tightly as she burrowed against his chest. Elizabeth pressed her nose into his chest and greedily inhaled his intoxicating scent. James's heat and scent wrapped around her body like an embrace, caressing and soothing her in a way she had never felt before. "I am not afraid to return to England," she whispered.

Strong fingers threaded through her hair, and she felt her head pulled back—gently but insistently. Their gazes collided, and the emotion in his eyes squeezed her heart.

"Will you marry me?"

She smiled and sniffled. "Yes."

James pressed his mouth to her forehead. "Your tears slay me, Elizabeth. I am sorry."

A breath shuddered from her. "They are happy tears," she whispered. "I am so very happy you are here."

"You forgive me."

His voice was awed, as though she gave him a precious gift.

"Yes," she said softly, easing from his arms to peer into his eyes. "The moment I read your letter, a part of me felt hope, but I was still unsure. The moment I saw you … I knew only love would make you chase me across the seas. I love you, James, so very much."

Lowering his head, he pressed his lips to hers in a slow, languorous kiss. She cupped his cheek and gently broke their kiss. "James, I am so very sorry for what my mother and aunt did. I cannot express my sorrow enough."

He brushed the back of his fingers over her cheek. "I do not agree with her methods, but I came to terms with it and even understood her intentions."

She stared wordlessly up at him. "You do?"

"Yes. Somehow, your mother understood I thoroughly debauched you and knew a man like me sometimes needs a ruthless means of persuasion to marry. Only she could not have known that I fell in love with you, desperately so, and had planned to start my courtship in earnest."

A strangled sound of outrage came from behind them. Her eyes widened. "My father … I thought he left."

"No," James murmured, his mouth quirking in a smile. "I gather the gentleman staring at me with death in his eyes is your father."

Unexpected humor bubbled forth, and her laughter spilled down the hallway. She could not explain or understand why, but Elizabeth laughed and cried, gripping James's jacket with such strength that her fingers ached. He held her for a long time until her emotions were spent. She turned around and her father was gone. Elizabeth smiled, leaning against James's chest, feeling such happiness it almost scared her.

"I love you, James."

His arms tightened around her waist, and he kissed her shoulder. "I love you. Now, take me to meet my father-in-law."

Laughing, she slipped her hands in his and tugged him toward the study to introduce her father to her beloved.