Chapter Twenty

Southampton, three days later

The page of The Illustrated London News was torn and crumpled but still legible:

Duke of Harcastle Deceased. Sister Weeps.

Evie had trodden it underfoot as she navigated the dirty street. She must have glanced down at her feet, reflexively checking for mud and worse as she picked her way along the pavement. And there it had been. Part of a paper dated from the day before. Old news. She didn't remember stooping to gather it up but now she held it in the glow of the streetlamp.

She'd been on her way to catch the packet, which was due to leave at first light. Each step had been an effort because each took her farther from where she truly wanted to be. It was like living life underwater with the current against her. Once she was on the boat, she kept telling herself, this feeling would ease. It had to or she'd spend the rest of her life forcing herself not to return to Alex.

The night she'd left Stoney Hey, the train had seemed a safe haven. But the moment it began to pull away from the station, she'd felt panic like a bird flapping in her chest. Ever since, she had been at war with herself.

You shouldn't be here. You belong with him .

No, I don't. I can't .

But here and now, holding on to these old scraps of paper with their grainy sketch of Alex beneath that terrible headline, the war was suddenly and dreadfully over. She uncrumpled the pages and tried to read the words through ink that had been smudged by mist and drizzle. An accident, they said. A fall. Helen had witnessed it. The body— Bile rose in her throat when she got to that part.

The body had yet to be recovered from the sea but the fall—hundreds of feet—was not survivable.

It had happened the night she left. He must have been searching for her. Why else would he be out there? Had some genuine accident befallen him or had Captain finally taken his revenge?

Dead. Alex was dead.

The tears wouldn't come. What was wrong with her that she couldn't cry? What a monster she was. She sank onto the ground, her skirts billowing around her. She wasn't fainting, had never felt more awake, but her legs wouldn't hold her upright. She didn't give a damn that she was on her knees where anyone might see her. A detached part of her mind noted the hard pavement, its scrape against her stockings, the wetness and dirt. A weight settled on her chest and in her stomach. A leaden hardness. This couldn't be grief. Grief was an empty, aching thing; she was so full she thought she must suffocate.

Only days ago, he'd held her against his chest and she'd heard his heart beating. He couldn't be dead. It was impossible to imagine a world without Alex even if she never saw him again. And to think she'd left him. Why had she done so when they could have spent every precious last moment together?

Memories flooded in. A rush of what ifs , of things she should have done differently. She'd never told him that she loved him. Hadn't even shown him. She'd been too great a coward. She wanted those moments back. She'd given him so little when she should have given everything. Even now she couldn't pay him the meager tribute of her tears.

She had to go back. If she didn't, she might never know what really happened to him. If it was Captain…

If it was Captain, she really thought she might kill him.

A fine mist of rain began to fall as she struggled to her feet. It didn't matter. Her skirts were soaked anyway from sitting on the ground. She turned her face up to the sky and closed her eyes. She couldn't think about what she'd lost or she'd go mad. She needed to be practical.

If she was going back to Yorkshire, she needed her bags, but they were already on the packet. It wasn't far to the docks but the narrow streets wound back on themselves. Dithering about whether to turn left or right proved an effective distraction but she despised herself a little that she could focus on mundane details at a time like this. His death didn't feel real yet. She needed to hear Helen say it was true before she could accept it. Despite this horrible weight pressing in on her, part of her still hoped this might turn out to be some terrible mistake. And that was madness, wasn't it?

The streetlamps were less frequent in this part of town and the alley she'd stopped in was very dark. At the far end, a light shone. If she was where she thought, the harbor should be visible by the time she reached the lamp. She took several deep breaths, and when she was sure she wouldn't stumble, she started forward.

As she stepped into the circle of lamplight, she hesitated, getting her bearings. Strong arms encircled her from behind. She tried to scream but a hand clamped down over her mouth, smothering the sound. Her assailant yanked her backward into the darkest part of the alley. Spinning her to face him, he pushed her back into the wall.

In that first moment, she almost didn't recognize him. His beard was gone, revealing the square line of his jaw, his hair was shorter, and he was dressed plainly. But even with these changes, even in near total darkness, even terrified half out of her wits, she knew him. The feel of him. His scent. Even the taste of his skin pressed over her mouth.

"Easy, love," Alex whispered.

She stilled completely as his breath tickled her cheek, warm and vital. Alive. Her eyes roved every inch of his face, taking in the faint scrapes and bruises. Thank God. Thank God.

Slowly he relaxed his hold. Big mistake.

She slapped him. Awkwardly, ineffectually, but with feeling. Shock at her own actions robbed her of breath. She should apologize. After all, if their roles were reversed… But even as she thought it, she hit him again, on the shoulder this time. And again on the chest. And again and again. Her haphazard blows couldn't have hurt him. After the first, the strength had drained from her so that each new strike was weaker than the last. His efforts to restrain her flailing arms were hampered by his obvious desire not to hurt her. Conversely she couldn't seem to stop trying to hurt him.

At last, he pinned her against the wall with the weight of his body. She pushed against him to no avail, and suddenly unable to lash out, she burst into tears. She hadn't sensed it coming, didn't know what to do now that it had happened, but the relief was exquisite as the terrible pressure in her chest eased with each choking sob. Next came a shiver of feeling like the rush of blood into a limb that had been numb.

The only thing that made the surge of pain and joy and gratitude bearable was his body covering hers and the sound of his voice in her ear. "I'm sorry, Evie. I'm sorry. Please don't."

"I thought you were dead."

"I'm here, love. I'm here with you."

"Please be real. Please, please be real."

"I'm real. I swear."

As tight as he held her, it wasn't enough. She needed it to hurt. She wanted bruises so that later she would know she hadn't imagined this. Her entire body shook.

"You were dead and I never told you. I should have told you."

"Yet you still don't." And there was a smile in his voice as if he found her inability to function like a normal woman utterly charming.

"I love you." Her voice broke. "I've loved you for so long."

He rested his forehead against hers and sighed. "Thank you." It could have been funny, that emphatic breath of a thanks, but his voice trembled with gratitude and relief.

Now that she'd finally spoken the words, the worst of her pain lifted and her tears slowed. She felt none of the fear and vulnerability she might have expected to feel after such a declaration. It didn't matter if he didn't say it back. She had spoken the truth and there was unexpected power in that. He held her, their bodies pressed together, and she knew he was almost as relieved to see her again as she was to see him. He must have rushed here unsure if he'd be in time to stop her.

He stroked her hair. "There's so much to say and I don't know where to start."

Evie did. "The paper said you fell. Is that true? Was it Captain? Where is he?"

"We should talk about this somewhere else. This is going to be difficult for you to hear."

He was dead then. No doubt she would be sad later, but at that moment she had no room in her heart for anyone but Alex. "Tell me now. It won't be worse than what I'm imagining."

And so he told her what had happened. How Captain had wanted to kill him, how they had struggled with the gun which had gone off. How Alex had slipped over the edge of the cliff but how he'd caught hold of an exposed root. He would have died if Helen hadn't been there to help him. While Captain lay bleeding, she and Dr. Carter had saved Alex's life.

"The shot got him in the stomach. By the time they had me safe, he'd fallen unconscious or that was how it seemed."

"Seemed? What do you mean?"

"Helen took me to the gatehouse to look at my wounds while Carter went to fetch his medical bag. By the time he got back, Nightingale had gone. That was the last we saw of him."

"Then he's alive?"

"He looked half dead when we left him. I don't see how he could have survived, but then where is he?"

She didn't know and dozens of other questions clamored for answers. "The paper said you died and that Helen witnessed it. How could they get things so wrong?"

"Ah." He tilted her chin up so that he could see her expression in the feeble dawn light. "The papers didn't make a mistake, not really. They reported what Helen told them. What I asked her to tell them."

The world wobbled on its axis. Or she wobbled. Until now she had been overjoyed at his survival and determined to soak up every moment she had with him until they were forced to part by his inevitable marriage. Now came a trembling hope that he might be about to her offer her even more.

He gazed at her expectantly. She had to say something but she didn't want to leap to conclusions. "I don't understand."

"I told you there was only one way for me to save my family's legacy but that isn't true. There's another path I hadn't considered because it's…well, quite frankly it's immoral and illegal."

She felt a smile tugging at her lips. "Go on."

"Ellis once pointed out that the duchy's finances would be in much better shape if I died. He was joking, of course, but he was also right."

"You're talking about insurance fraud." She eased away from him and began to pace the little stretch of alley nearest them. "You're telling me that everyone thinks you're dead?"

"Not everyone. Helen and Dr. Carter know the truth."

"Dr. Carter? He must be horrified." Even her brief acquaintance with the man had been enough for her to notice his obvious integrity. But he was also besotted with his wife. He would probably do almost anything to make Helen happy.

"Are you?" he asked.

"No, but I'm a terrible person. You shouldn't use me as your moral barometer."

"You are the only woman I've ever loved. The only woman I ever want to marry. I think you are wonderful and extraordinary, but…" He smiled crookedly. "Point taken."

She heard his declaration, but this was too serious. Despite the little skip her heart gave, she was not going to allow him to distract her from the folly of what he proposed. "And the man who apparently prompted this idea? Is he in on it, too?" After all, Mr. Ellis would be the financial beneficiary of this mad scheme.

"Absolutely not. Yes, he joked about this weeks ago, but he would never knowingly participate in anything like this. He's far more suited to be Harcastle than I ever was. What he lacks in presence he makes up for with industriousness and competence. He's thoroughly honorable almost to the point of dullness. Helen and Will have both sworn never to tell him."

Evie wasn't so sure. "You don't think the insurance money and all the castles might tempt him?"

"If there's one person who wants to be Harcastle even less than I, it's Ellis. The very mention of the possibility always turns him green. It's the part of this that troubles me most. If he knew I even contemplated this, he'd never forgive me."

"Is this why you shaved? It's not much of a disguise even with the clothes and the haircut."

"That's where you come in." He took both her hands in his. "If anyone can help a duke to disappear, it's you."

"This is madness."

"It wouldn't be anything like the life of a duchess or even of a duke's mistress, that's certain. We won't be poor, either. I have money with me and Helen, the sole beneficiary of my personal fortune, will send the rest once the funds are released."

"You know I never cared about any of that." And she had five hundred pounds. As long as neither one of them proved to be a spendthrift, they could manage well enough financially. For her, these were untold riches. "Is this really what you want? Do you really think this is a life that can make you happy?"

"I was never happy as Harcastle until I met you. When I'm with you, whoever I am, whatever I'm called, it's like nothing I've ever known. If you don't feel the same—"

"I do. You know I do. There's nothing I want more than to be with you, whatever life you choose." The declaration rolled off her tongue so easily, she wondered why she'd ever been afraid of this. Afraid of him.

A ghost of a smile lit his face as if he understood. "Then let's choose one together."

Oh God, she was going to say yes. Part of her had known that the whole time they'd been talking. Yes to everything.

Whatever he wanted.

"Trust me."

The sun was nearly risen, so she did what she had never done before; she let her guard down, discarded that inscrutability Captain had taught her to wear like a mask. She let Alex see everything that was in her heart. Love, fear, her absolute belief in him, in them , and the chance they were about to take. "Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes."

He crushed her to his chest in relief and joy. When he kissed her, it seemed impossible that it was the first time he'd done so since he dragged her into this dank and dirty alley. The surroundings might be less than salubrious but the kiss made such considerations irrelevant. She didn't even miss the beard. The smooth warmth of his skin on hers made up for the loss.

"If we're really going to do this," she said when he let her up for air, "there's something you should know."

He lifted his eyebrows. "More dark secrets?"

"No. It's only…" It was hard to tell him. It had been so long since she'd told anyone. "Hannah. My name—my original name—is Hannah. For what it's worth."

His eyes glittered. He swallowed and when he spoke, his voice trembled with emotion. "It's worth a great deal." He offered his hand. "It's an honor to meet you."

She took it and smiled. "I don't know my last name, if I ever had one."

"You can share mine." He shrugged. "Once you've helped me pick one."

"We'll discuss it on the way. Let's hope the boat hasn't gone."

Arm in arm, with the whole world to explore, they emerged from the dark of the alley. The dismal weather didn't matter anymore. For both of them, and for the first time, anything was possible.