Chapter 27

Throughout this exchange, Anne had sat in stunned silence. The appearance of William and Digby in the drawing room had astonished her, but it was nothing as to the extraordinary revelation now told. William was the son of the former Duke of Lancaster, and Digby had sought to use that fact in an act of revenge against the current duke and duchess. There were so many questions left unanswered, and Anne knew her parents would be shocked by the extraordinary scandal of William's birth. But it seemed the duke – William's uncle – had always intended to make amends, and despite the lies William had told, he really was a gentleman now…

"The Baron of Mowbray – you…no, I'll tell everyone the truth about the bastard," Connor snarled, his face flushed with anger.

"And if you do that, you'll have me to answer to, as well," Anne's father said.

Anne turned to her father in surprise, as did the others.

"What do you mean?" Connor retorted, turning to the earl, who rose to his feet.

"In my enquiries concerning William, I made some interesting discoveries about certain dealings at Boodles club – it seems there's been some discrepancies at the gambling tables, weighted dice, that sort of thing. There was a steward involved, and he gave your name as part of the confession. If it became public…" he said, allowing the words to hang menacingly in the air.

Connor stared at him in disbelief, even as the duke and duchess glanced at one another with a look of relief on their faces.

"I…you won't…it was supposed to be…" Connor stammered, but there was nothing more to say.

"I think you'd better leave, Connor – and remember the threat hanging over you before you try to manipulate another innocent for your own gains," the duke said, and with that, Connor turned on his heels and marched out of the drawing room, slamming the door behind him, as a collective sigh of relief went up all around.

William turned to Anne with a sorrowful expression on his face.

"I'm so sorry," he said, but Anne shook her head.

She had been angry with him before. He had played her for a fool, or so it had seemed. But in the extraordinary scenes just witnessed, Anne had realized the extent of William's manipulation. Connor, his supposed friend, had poisoned William's mind against the very people who loved him the most, and turned him into a puppet for his own gains. If William was guilty of anything, it was only the naivety of youth, and the trusting nature of one who only wanted to do his best. He had fallen madly in love with her – Anne could see that in everything he had done, and it was a feeling she shared, for love was a madness shared by those lucky enough to know it together.

"I don't think you've got anything to be sorry for, William. That awful man…he cheated you so terribly. He made you into something you're not, and for his own gains," Anne replied.

"Anne, why don't the two of you talk alone," her mother whispered, and Anne rose to her feet, glancing at the duke and duchess, who both nodded.

"We could walk in the gardens," William suggested, and the duke nodded.

"I think you've both got a lot to talk about – and I'm sure Maximilian won't mind," he said, glancing at William's cousin, who shook his head and laughed.

"I think it's too extraordinary for words – my cousin, I can hardly believe it. But it doesn't alter anything, does it, Father?" he asked, the duke shook his head.

"It only means you have an ally, rather than a rival – I hope you'll both see that in one another. It was always my intention, even as I know you've not always seen eye to eye," he replied.

"You've proved yourself today, William – I admire your pluck in confronting your uncle, and your magnanimity I knowing you were wrong," Anne's father said, and William blushed.

"I really am so sorry," he said, but the others shook their heads.

"There's a lot to be sorry for – amongst us all. But for you, William – we're not sorry. We're blessed by you, and it seems you can be a blessing to another, too. We can see just how in love you are – both of you. Why should we stand in your way? We want you to be happy, Anne. I've not seen that look in your eyes for…a very long time," the duchess said, smiling at Anne, who offered William her arm.

They stepped out of the drawing room, walking in silence until they emerged from the hallway onto the terrace, where the gardens were spread out magnificently before them. The scent of roses and lavender hung in the air, and they walked across the lawn, under the shade of weeping willow trees, whose branches hung down as though to make an arch, where dappled sunlight speckled the green grass.

"What a terrible thing Connor did, William," Anne said, horrified at the thought of what had transpired between the two men.

William shook his head. He looked embarrassed, even as none of it was surely his fault.

"I allowed myself to be manipulated by him. I was such a fool," he said, but Anne would not hear of such talk.

"Nonsense – he played you for a fool. He gained your confidence, but he was the enemy all along. He did all this for revenge – how fortunate your uncle was two steps ahead of him. I know it must all be a dreadful shock – discovering the truth like this. But you know it now, and it makes a difference," Anne said.

She had been angry with William – he had made himself out to be a gentleman, he had told lies about himself and the things he had done. But all that had been at the behest of Connor – he had set William up to fail and manipulated his chance encounter with Anne for his own ends.

"I'm so sorry I lied to you. I didn't want to, but I didn't think you'd pay me any attention if I was just …William, the son of a servant. I kept the truth from you – about my godfather – but I told you so many lies in its place. I wish I'd just been honest with you," he said.

Anne smiled. She thought back to her penny novels, where the hero was always as he said he was, and the heroine just as she appeared. But life was not like that – not truly. It was filled with twists and turns, and reasons for this and that, some of which made sense, and some of which did not. Anne could not blame William for his naivety in believing Connor's lies. He had stepped out into the world with hope in his heart and had been unfortunate enough to encounter Connor on the way.

"But the truth wasn't even that, was it? Your godfather was your uncle, and what you believed about yourself and your prospects was false. You were always destined for this title, and for the privileges your uncle had secured for you. If you'd known it before, you'd not have told those lies. You're hardly the first man to tell a few untruths in the hope of impressing a woman," Anne said, and William laughed.

"No…perhaps not. I only did it because…well, from that first moment in the market, I've thought of nothing but you," he said.

Anne's heart skipped a beat, and she paused, turning to him, as they stood beneath the dappled shade of the willow trees, the arch framing Burnley Abbey behind. She smiled at him, knowing she felt just the same way, for she had thought of little else but him, either, since the first day of their meeting.

Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs; being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears; what is it else? A madness most discreet, a choking gall, and a preserving sweet, – the words of Shakespeare in Romeo and Juliet came at once to Anne's mind.

The smoke had cleared, the truth was there to see – Anne loved William as he loved her, and despite the anger of the past few days, her love for him been undiminished. It was the sorrow of loss she had felt most acutely – the loss of what she had hoped would be, replaced by an arrangement with Maximilian, or whoever else her parents deigned to choose for her. But William was Anne's choice, and now she knew the truth, there could be no barrier to the happiness they deserved.

"I've thought of nothing but you, either," she confessed, and it was a relief to say those words, and reveal the innermost feelings of her heart.

She could have settled for nothing but him, and now he stared at her in astonishment, as though he had only expected rejection on her part.

"Do you…mean it?" he asked, and she nodded, gazing up into his eyes and feeling only love for him and hope for all they might share together.

"I was angry with you – I thought you were like all the others. But I see it now – you're nothing like them. You pretended to be a gentleman and wanted to impress me with expensive clothes and business credentials. But I don't care about any of that – it was you I fell in love with," she said, and William let out a deep sigh of relief.

"I never wanted to be something else, I promise you. I'm just William – the son of a seamstress from Lancashire," he said, but Anne shook her head.

"You're far more than that – a little na?ve, perhaps. But you're young, and so am I. We're allowed a flight of romance, and a little foolishness, I think. But my father was right – you proved your courage in confronting your uncle, and your magnanimity in accepting you were wrong. I was proud of you," she said, and William blushed.

"I'm still a pauper, though – I didn't know my left foot from my right at the Charlton Lodge ball. I was completely out of place. I'd dressed myself up, won money in that awful game of cards, and pretended I was a gentleman. But I'm not, and I don't know if I can be so, either," he said, shaking his head.

He looked at her with a doubtful expression, but Anne only smiled and slipped her hands into his.

"I know plenty of penniless aristocrats. Society won't care – you've got a title. They're all snobs. That's all that matters," she said, and William laughed.

"Well…yes, I suppose I do now, don't I? The Baron of Mowbray. I don't even know where Mowbray is," he said, and now it was Anne's turn to laugh.

"Oh, that doesn't matter, either. Titles don't mean you actually live in the place of your namesake. I remember my father telling me of a former Duke of Cumberland – he never set foot there, not for his entire life. He spent his fortune in London and died penniless in Portsmouth," Anne said, smiling as she recalled her father's story.

The earl himself spent hardly anytime in Blakeley, and gave the village of his namesake little by way of his attention. The fact of William's title would be enough for society to accept him – and to accept a marriage between him and the daughter of an earl…

"I suppose that's something. I must say…it's all come as something of a shock. The whole thing. I never knew anything about my father – he was a soldier, who died in Corsica. That's it, and now…oh, goodness," he exclaimed, and Anne looked at him in surprise.

"What's the matter?" she said, and he took her by the hand, leading her back across the lawn.

"I've just realized something – I can see my father right now," he exclaimed, and together they hurried towards the house, even as Anne felt confused as to how they could possibly see the long dead duke.

But as William led her through a side door, she realized what he had meant. They had entered the dining room, and there, above the fireplace was a portrait. It could have been a portrait of William himself – perhaps in ten years, or so – and as the new Baron of Mowbray gazed up at his father's image, a tear ran down Anne's cheek.

"There's no doubting it, William," she said, and he turned to her and smiled.

"I never noticed it before. I suppose I wasn't looking for it, either. I just believed…well, I believed I was just William," he said.

But Anne shook her head. He was not just William. He was the man she had fallen in love with, the man who had now discovered the truth about himself and about his past, and who had overcome the power conspiring against him. He had a bright future ahead of him, and it was a future Anne wanted to be a part of.

"You're far more than that, William," she said, as he took her hands in his and gazed lovingly into her eyes.

"I've never met anyone like you. I knew from the first moment I laid eyes on you… I love you. But I was a pauper, I had nothing – how could I be the sort of man a woman like you deserved. I'm sorry I lied to you, but I did it with the best of intentions. I wanted to be something I wasn't. But I realize I don't want any of that now – I just want to be me. The Baron of Mowbray – the title means nothing, but if it means I can ask you this question, then I'm glad of it," he said, sinking down on one knee.

Anne gasped, and he held her hands in his, gazing up at her in hopeful imploration. She knew what was to come, but this was no penny novel, or even a Shakespearean romance – it was their own, and nobody else's.

"William, I…" she said, but he shook his head, interrupting her with the words she had longed to hear.

"Will you marry me, Anne," he said, and Anne needed no time to think, as tears rolled down her cheeks.

"I will, a thousand times, I will," she exclaimed, and William leaped to his feet, throwing his arms around her in delight.

"You've made me the happiest of men, Anne. I'm sorry for all that's passed between us, but I… I promise from this day forward, no more lies, only the truth, only happiness," he said, and their lips met in a kiss.

Anne was entirely caught up in the moment – a perfect moment of happiness. She clung to him, feeling as though her heart was about to burst with joy. It was overwhelming, and as their lips parted, she let out a deep sigh, thankful at last to have found the love she had always hoped for.

"And I promise the same. We came so close to loss, and yet…here we are, on the threshold of something unimaginably wonderful," she said, as he gazed lovingly into her eyes.

"I never thought you'd take a second look at me. But providence brought us together, and perhaps we'll look back on my feeble attempts at being a gentleman with mirth, in years to come," he said, laughing, as Anne shook her head.

"Oh, I thought you made an exquisite gentleman. It wasn't all a pretence, though I realise you know nothing about imports and exports now," she said.

"Ah, but I intend to learn – I won't rest on my laurels. I'm going to make a name for myself in business, I promise," he said, and there could be no doubting the sincerity of his words.

"We must tell the others," Anne said, and for a moment, William looked doubtful.

"I fear your mother and father still might not approve of me," he said, but Anne shook her head.

"You're the first person I've ever heard my father compliment in such a way. They want me to be happy, William, and with you, I will be," she said.

He put his arms around her again and kissed her, and for a few moments, they stood in a silent embrace beneath the portrait of William's father. So much had changed so quickly, but the truth had been revealed, and it was a truth they could both find happiness in – a truth to honour and celebrate.

"I hope I'll make my father proud," William said, glancing up at the portrait, and Anne smiled at him, as the two of them walked hand in hand from the drawing room.

"I think you've already done so, William," she replied, feeling that same pride in the man she was now to marry, the man who had become her whole world, and whom she could not imagine life without.