Lady of Providence

by St. Clair, Ellie

Elizabeth turned and opened her mouth, but no words came out as she could only stare at him in shock.

  For standing in the doorway of the carriage, his silhouette illuminated by the light of the moon and the streetlamp behind him, was Gabriel Lockridge, the Duke of Clarence.

  Chapter Four

  “What are you doing here?”

  Gabriel narrowed his eyes at her words as he stared at Elizabeth, who, despite the aura of certainty and proprietary that always surrounded her, now looked rather vulnerable and alone.

  Her hair was disheveled, hanging in tendrils around her pretty, oval face. Her eyes—those violet eyes unlike any he had ever seen before that had always drawn him in, drowning him in their depths—stared back at him, wide in her shock, which she was very clearly attempting to hide from him. She began to tug at her clothing—a hideous dress of black material—in order to make sure all was properly arranged.

  “Is that any way to thank a man who has rescued you from such ruffians?” He asked, leaning out and quickly calling to his driver to carry on without him before he re-entered the carriage and slammed the door behind him with such force she jumped as she settled herself back on the seat and folded her hands primly in her lap.

  “I had the matter under control, though I thank you very much for your assistance,” she said with a sniff, and Gabriel reached down to see what weapon she had been brandishing against the men who had entered her carriage. When he lifted what he had thought was a piece of metal, he could only stare in astonishment.

  “An umbrella? You were going to fight off three attackers with an umbrella?”

  “For your information, I had already defeated one with it and I’m sure the next two were close to follow had I more time.”

  “As stubborn as ever,” he muttered under his breath as he sat across from her and pulled on his gloves, which he had retrieved from the floor following his brief skirmish. He ran a hand over his own hair to ensure all was in place—it was—before fixing his gaze upon her.

  “Pardon me?” she said, one eyebrow arched, and he was aware that she very clearly knew what he had said, but was attempting to provoke him further.

  “Oh, I’m just telling myself how fortunate it was that I was in the carriage next to you when I heard you cry out. I was also congratulating myself on a job well done, as quite obviously you were not going to do so.”

  She shot a glare toward him, one he sensed even in the dim light.

  “You are as conceited as ever,” she said with disdain.

  “I only speak the truth.”

  “As you see it.”

  “When one is a duke in England, he may typically decide what is the truth.”

  “And that, your grace, is precisely the problem.”

  They sat in silence for a moment, until Elizabeth suddenly jumped out of her reverie.

  “My goodness! The driver and the groom—I have to go check on them to see if they are all right.”

  “Allow me,” Gabriel said, though of course, Elizabeth didn’t listen. No, she stood and tried to brush past him, but he blocked her with his body.

  “Stay here, Elizabeth. It’s bad enough you are out on the streets at all tonight, but to be out of the carriage would be more than foolish.”

  He could tell she wasn’t pleased but, at the very least, she listened, though she crossed her arms and looked rather perturbed as he let himself out the carriage door. In truth, he did care about her safety, but he was also rather concerned about what might be awaiting outside.

  Fortunately, the driver was brushing himself off, and while the groom was rubbing at a bump on his head, they both seemed to be in fair enough condition.

  “Just a few scratches, your grace,” they told him after he shared his identity and what had occurred, and Gabriel nodded, confirmed they were able to continue the short drive to the church, and returned to Elizabeth, who was tapping her foot impatiently.

  “Now tell me. Just what do you think you are doing out here alone?” he asked, and she sighed as though answering his question was a hardship.

  “That is a rather idiotic question, especially coming from a man I know to be far more intelligent,” she said with an indignant look toward him. “I am attending my grandfather’s funeral, of course, just as you are.”

  “If we are speaking of intelligence, then I must ask, Elizabeth, if you had not expected that something such as this might occur?”

  “I thought of it,” she responded. “That is why I brought Glouster.”

  “The groom?”

  “Yes.”

  “A lot of good that did for you.”

  “How would it have been different if I were a man within this carriage? If I were my brother? What protection would he or you have that I do not?”

  “I have a dagger in my boot, for one.”

  “You do not.”

  “I do—would you like to see?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “A woman is far more likely to wear jewels, to have riches available for the taking,” he continued in what he felt was a fine argument.

  “I am wearing no jewelry but a pair of ear bobs. I am in mourning.”

  “They do not know that, Elizabeth. Where are your parents?”

  “My mother is at home, wearing her disapproving face, while my father is likely somewhere ahead in the procession.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Dismissing propriety, then, are we Elizabeth?”

  “While I typically find that it is far better to do what is expected, to live one’s life within the rules of society, there is also, at times, the occasion to break with convention and do what is necessary.”

  “Such as your friends, who have found themselves in rather… interesting situations lately,” he said, being very aware of the recent actions of two of her closest companions. “Perhaps the results of their experiences have convinced you that propriety is not always best.”

  “They have been lucky,” she said primly. “I still believe it cannot be so for everyone.”

  “That’s a rather gloomy way to look at it.”

  “Yes, well, experience has taught me so.”

  Silence stretched between them for a moment, and he marveled at the fact that despite she had recently been attacked, she hadn’t lost any composure, nor her headstrong attitude.

  “Elizabeth—”

  “I do not believe you have leave to call me by my given name, your grace.”

  “Oh, you gave me leave to do so in the past.” As he remembered just exactly what that past had included, a rush of heat flooded his body. A rush he hadn’t felt in some time, was he being honest. On that night, which remained burned in his memory, Elizabeth had been nothing like the cold, proper woman she was today. Oh, no—Gabriel knew a side of her that no one else did, a side that was hot, wild, and passionate.

  “That was the past—a mistake,” she said, and he could tell she was no longer looking at him, but at a corner of the carriage. “What are you doing in here, anyway? It certainly isn’t at all proper for us to be alone together like this.”

  “What do you think I will do?” he asked, crossing his arms and leaning back into the squabs as he grinned, “Take your innocence?”

  He could tell it wasn’t the response she had been expecting, but she straightened as her gaze returned to him.

  “It’s a little late for that, do you not think?”

  Gabriel said nothing, as he could hear the pain in her voice. No longer was she teasing and taunting him—she was speaking from her heart, and he was well aware that he had done it a disservice five years ago. He had regretted his actions for longer than she knew. Not all that had occurred between them, but the part that had made her feel as though she wasn’t worthy of the love of one man.

  “Elizabeth… I know I acted more than dishonorably all those years ago, and I do offer you my sincerest apologies, as I should have done long ago. Oh, I know I said I was sorry, but over time, I have come to understand just how wrong my actions were.”
>
  “We both became carried away that night, when we… when we… made love.”

  Make love. What a way to describe it—not how he typically thought of the act, but it certainly had been different with Elizabeth.

  “I am aware of that,” he said softly. “We were young and full of romantic thoughts, were we not? I would have married you, Elizabeth. I told you I would.”

  She snorted. “I had no desire to be married to a man who would take a string of mistresses. In fact, I am glad that I found you in the arms of Lady Pomfret. For had I not, then I likely would have married you and lived a disastrously unhappy life. In fact, I should thank her one of these days.”

  Gabriel swallowed hard, saying nothing. He did not enjoy being wrong. In fact, he was proud of the fact that he hardly ever was. But in this, she was altogether correct. He had been a fool, and youth was no excuse.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, but she didn’t respond, apparently done with their conversation. In truth, he had no wish to speak of it any longer either, but she did deserve his apology.

  He could still clearly remember nearly every moment of the night they had come together. She had just had her come out, while he was a couple of years older. He had been attending events long enough to know that women were eager for the attention of a future duke, though young enough that he did not yet understand what repercussions could come from flirtations—or more—with unwed young women of the ton. Elizabeth had caught his eye the moment she walked into Lord Holderness’ ballroom that evening.

  She stood out, for she was tall for a woman, but it was more than that. She carried herself with a confidence most women lacked, so self-assured, so composed. She was beautiful in a classic sense, though not particularly striking, not like the woman with midnight black hair who accompanied her, nor the little blonde pixie nymph beside her. But she was graceful and elegant—something about her captivated him. Then she had turned and when those violet eyes had met his, the room could have been held up at gunpoint and he wouldn’t have been able to look away. It took a moment for him to realize she was the daughter of the Viscount of Shannon—a girl he had known in her youth, for their countryside summer homes had been quite close to one another. But gone was the awkward, bookish little girl. In her place was a woman—one he wanted to get to know better, beyond the few teasing words they had exchanged when they were but children. That night they had danced, spoken easy words to one another, and then a walk in the gardens had turned into so much more when they had found a cushioned bench within a gazebo.

  He could still remember the way the moon and stars had illuminated her fine cheekbones. Gabriel hadn’t meant to take things as far as they did. But when she had asked, it hadn’t been within him to say no. He had meant to do right by her—had courted her properly afterward, and had nearly proposed, despite the fact he wasn’t ready to wed—but then she found out that he had allowed his eye to wander. He had been such an idiot.

  “It may have been both of our decisions, but I should have known better, and I should have done right—truly right by you,” he said softly now as he stared out the window, realizing they were nearing the church. “Elizabeth… I’m also very sorry about your grandfather. He was a good man, one I was pleased to come to know over the years through my dealings with your family and with the bank.”

  “Thank you,” she said quietly, though to which apology she was referring, he wasn’t entirely sure.

  Chapter Five

  Thankfully the remainder of the evening had been uneventful. Elizabeth hadn’t been surprised to see that the church was filled with people paying their respects to her grandfather. He had been a well-liked, respected man, and his clients ranged from the wealthy and powerful to those whose sums may have been small, but to them, they were fortunes nonetheless. Elizabeth recognized many of those who sat at the front of the church in their finery, while others near the back may have been less well-dressed, but perhaps more sincere in their grief. Thomas had treated them all equally.

  Elizabeth had received many wide-eyed stares as she made her way through the church, choosing a seat near the front, where she held her head high. Appearances were important now, she reminded herself. While many of these men may question her choice to attend, it was far more important that she appear strong and capable—which she was. Her mother would have been proud for Elizabeth showed no emotion, despite the fact her heart was breaking as she listened to the vicar reading words of the gospel over her grandfather’s body.

  She had seen Terrence enter the church, late as always, and find a seat on the other side next to her father, who she had tried, as well as she could, to avoid.

  Gabriel—she shouldn’t think of him as such, but she really couldn’t help it—had sat next to her during the service, but he quickly learned it was best to not offer any words or touch of support, as when he lifted a hand as though to place it over hers in a gesture of comfort, she sent him a glare that had him returning the hand to his own lap rather hastily. Afterward, he had insisted he would escort her home, but her father had approached them, his expression thunderous at Elizabeth’s appearance, and took her arm to escort her into his own carriage, dismissing Glouster and the other driver. Elizabeth had time to offer Gabriel only a quick thanks before she and her father were out of the church and into the carriage.

  “What were you thinking?” he hissed as they took a seat, and Elizabeth stared back at him in equal measure.

  “I realize that it is not at all done for a woman of the ton to attend a funeral, Father,” she said matter-of-factly. “But you must understand that I am now the senior partner of Clarke & Co. If I were a man, it would be unheard of for me not to attend the funeral, as Grandpapa’s successor. I mustn’t show any sign of weakness, or these men will feed upon it.”

  “I don’t know what Thomas was thinking, naming you his heir,” her father muttered, crossing his arms over his chest, a frown covering his face.

  “Then we are fortunate he did not ask for your opinion,” she retorted, and her father now uncrossed his arms and leaned forward in the seat toward her.

  “Well, I never… Elizabeth, whatever has gotten into you? We did not raise you to be so insolent.”

  She sighed but refused to apologize. “I am grieving, Father. I am also coming to terms with the responsibility that has been placed upon me and the fact that I have few who are willing to support me in it. While I know Mother doesn’t entirely approve, at the very least she is happy about it all, as she sees financial gain for herself.”

  “She knows nothing of the business,” he said with a bit of a snort. Elizabeth’s parents tolerated one another, but she couldn’t say with all certainty that they had ever even a moment of happiness together. “You may make money—if you are lucky and clients don’t go running at the first mention of a woman taking on the role of senior partner. But that means nothing for us unless you are inclined to share. Somehow I doubt it.”

  “Well, with that type of attitude toward me, your assumption sounds reasonable.”

  Elizabeth trembled slightly inside, as she had never before spoken to her father in such a way, but when he only shook his head, clearly dismissing her words, she decided she had enough of this conversation. She was exhausted, from the attack in the carriage, her verbal sparring with the Duke, the requirement to hide her emotions throughout the service, and now the lack of support of any kind from her father.

  “It’s late,” she said. “Perhaps we should take this up another day.”

  “That we will,” he said, tapping his finger on his other arm. “That we will.”

  *

  The very next day, to be precise. While Elizabeth felt like doing nothing but lying in bed for the day, the bank would be open, and if she wasn’t present to begin to guide the ship in the direction she wanted to go—or encourage that they stay the course, as it may be—then she was well aware that it could end up lost at sea.

  And so she summoned her maid to help her dress in black, lef
t the reprieve of her beautiful violet-and-cream chamber and made her way downstairs, hoping she could breakfast alone.

  She was disappointed.

  “Elizabeth,” her mother said as Elizabeth sat down, pouring coffee for herself. She enjoyed tea during the day, but first thing in the morning, coffee seemed to help her to focus. Particularly when she was sitting down with her parents.

  “Your father and I have been discussing this… situation. I know we have mentioned it before, but we think it would be best if you forget this nonsense of involving yourself in the bank. There are many others who are capable of managing without you, and you can simply collect the income as necessary.”

  Elizabeth carefully folded her napkin in her lap before looking up and meeting her mother’s gaze.

  “Thank you for your concern, Mother, I do appreciate it. However, I have thought this through, and Grandpapa clearly named me his successor for a reason. He trusted no one else, and that includes those within the bank.”

  “Oh for goodness sake, Elizabeth, have some sense!” Her father suddenly burst out, as his fork clattered to the plate and he raised his hands in the air to emphasize his words. “You are a lady. One who should be focused on finding a husband. What are you going to do, live here, with us, for the rest of your life? Become a spinster? Why, you are practically there already! You have no time to be loitering around the bank, and it will certainly do nothing to further your chances of having a man think anything proper of you.”

  Elizabeth refused to respond to his emotion, instead taking a careful bite of her toast, chewing thoughtfully as her father spewed from across the table and her mother eyed her narrowly.

  “You are correct about one thing, Father,” she said after she swallowed, clearly surprising Lord Moreland, which delighted her, though she would never allow him to see as such. “I cannot live here for the rest of my life. That would not work—not at all. It is fortunate, then, that Grandpapa has seen to my future for me.”

  “Whatever are you talking about, Elizabeth?” her mother asked. “Do stop speaking in riddles.”