Anything But a Duke

by Christy Carlyle

  She could send a note with the information, but what she truly wished was to see him again.

  Her nerves were frayed, her body ached in places it had never ached before, and her heart was full to the point of bursting. Inside her heart, she held an impossible mix of joy and anxious uncertainty.

  Being with Aidan had been beyond what she ever imagined it could be. Leaving him in the early hours of the morning was the most difficult choice she’d ever made in her life.

  She’d stroked a strand of hair from his forehead, traced her fingers along the line of his cheek, his jaw, his nose. She’d kissed him as softly as she was able, then dressed and tiptoed away when every step made her wish to turn back.

  In the space of a few hours, she’d come to understand why people were willing to risk anything, do anything, for what she’d long imagined was poetic nonsense.

  Love. Was that what was filling her heart this morning? Was that why she couldn’t manage to focus on her work and thought instead of Aidan? One night with him and everything had shifted. She’d made him promise not to think of the future, and yet this morning she could think of little else.

  She could no longer imagine a future that didn’t include Aidan. The man had been on her heart and mind since the day they’d met, and now she felt he was a part of her.

  But how could it work? She could conceive an idea and build and tweak and struggle until it worked just as she imagined, but she couldn’t fathom how she and Aidan Iverson might make a life together.

  What they felt for each other would only get in the way of his goals. She wasn’t the noblewoman he needed to achieve the belonging he’d been seeking for so long.

  And none of her own ambition had waned either. Glancing around the room, she took in her five completed devices and felt a surge of pride that she had achieved exactly what she’d set out to do. But the prospect of success didn’t fill her up as she’d expected it to.

  No matter how many devices she sold to Mr. Repton, no matter how many people used her machine, she knew she wouldn’t be satisfied with the work alone.

  Now there was more than toiling in a workshop and seeing one of her devices in a shop window; there was the simple bliss of being held and wanted, the joy of being in Aidan’s arms. She wanted that too.

  Gripping the lever, she applied her weight and moved the metal bar back and forth until she felt resistance. Lifting the tube of her machine, she drew up the collection of dust she’d deposited on her workshop floor. The mechanism worked just as expected and she turned to make a note regarding this final test.

  Her wrist bumped against a small pile of post she’d left unopened. The name atop one envelope caught her notice. It was from Mr. Repton. She tore inelegantly to get to the letter and her jaw dropped as she read.

  She’d sent him a note to let him know she’d completed the five models he’d asked for. She and Aidan had been waiting for confirmation that he wished to purchase and ship them to his shop in America. But he’d done more.

  She read the lines again and again to make herself believe the words. The joy of it rushed through her, and more than anything she wanted to tell Aidan.

  I have sold all five of Miss Ashby’s cleaning devices to eager customers and only await the matter of delivery and payment. I am certain we can come to fair terms when we meet again next week.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Diana noticed movement and a shift of light in the hallway beyond. The clip of heels on marble grew louder as they approached, telling her she’d soon have a visitor.

  “Miss Grinstead to see you, Miss Ashby,” the housemaid said from the conservatory threshold. “Shall I send her in?”

  “Yes, do send her in.” Diana didn’t imagine even a visit from her dearest friend could alter the course of her wayward thoughts and the spectrum of emotions she’d passed through this morning, but she was eager to see Grace nonetheless. If nothing else, she understood her better now. Diana no longer questioned why her friend would risk scandal to follow her heart.

  Grace wore a stunning green frock of shimmering satin and one of her elaborate hats with a veil pulled over her face. That struck Diana as odd, but as she rose to greet her fashionable friend with a welcoming hug, she understood why.

  “Oh, Diana.” Grace pulled out a hat pin and tugged off the large satin flower-covered hat. Beneath the veil, her face was splotched pink, her eyes swollen from crying, her lips quivering as if she was on the verge of tearing up again.

  “Come in, Grace.” Diana clasped her friend’s hand and drew her to a corner of the workshop where she’d placed one of the family’s old threadbare settees. “Tell me what’s happened.”

  “Papa has refused us, of course. He’s threatened Mr. Hambly and he’s vowed to send me away if I pursue this course.” Her chin wobbled and tears welled in her eyes, but she swiped at them and seemed determined not to cry.

  “The worst part,” she said on a broken whisper, “is that it’s worked. Mr. Hambly has been frightened off, despite vowing he would persist.”

  Grace’s shoulders slumped and she closed her eyes. A line of tears slid down her cheeks, but she said nothing more.

  Diana didn’t know what to say to lessen the pain. “I’m sorry, Grace,” were the words that emerged, but she knew they weren’t enough.

  “He’s withdrawn his proposal.” She hiccupped and pressed a hand to her chest. “But even that hasn’t satisfied my father. Mama says he plans to send me to the countryside for the Season so that I ‘bring no more shame upon our family.’” After a ragged indrawn breath, she added, “I’ve lost everything.”

  Diana reached an arm around Grace’s shoulders. She searched for anything to say that might soothe her. “Perhaps a few months in the country will be restorative.”

  Grace frowned at her. “Isolation? Banishment? I’m tired of my father dictating my life, Diana. Why do you think I was so keen to marry?”

  “I thought you loved Mr. Hambly.”

  Grace pulled a lace-edged handkerchief from her pocket and pressed it to her nose. “Love is a fancy. You told me that yourself just a few days ago.”

  Diana opened her mouth but everything she considered saying caught on her tongue. She had been dismissive of Grace’s romanticism, but she couldn’t deny the potency of love anymore. Still, she hesitated to confess as much to Grace, not because she had any doubts about her feelings or Aidan’s, but because the emotions were too raw for her to sift with a few words.

  “I know you like solving problems, Diana, but I think I may have found a solution to this dilemma myself.” Grace stripped off her gloves and turned to face her on the settee, a blush creeping up her cheeks.

  “Good,” Diana said, shocked by her friend’s change in demeanor.

  “I’ll need your help,” Grace told her with an eager glint in her gray eyes.

  “You know I’ll assist you however I can.”

  “Can you arrange another meeting with Mr. Iverson?” Grace reached for Diana’s hand when she didn’t reply. “I know he must think me a ninny after what happened at the Zoological Society, but we could make a fair match, I think. He has enough wealth to please my family, and I have something to offer him too.”

  Diana tried swallowing against the painful knot at the back of her throat, but she couldn’t even manage that. She wasn’t sure she could manage breathing. Every exhale got trapped in her chest.

  “Remember how he mentioned the industrial exhibition?” Grace continued. “My father knows several of the men on the planning committee. Apparently, they rejected Mr. Iverson’s proposal to join, but I think my father could convince at least one of the men to reconsider.”

  Diana nodded. Some rational part of her understood what Grace was saying. She could help Aidan, and Diana loved him enough to want that. If he wished to be part of this exhibition, then he must be. She understood how much he wanted to belong, and he’d helped her achieve her goals. Could she truly claim to care for him if she didn’t do the same?

  �
�Perhaps your family could host a dinner and invite us both.” Grace rapped her nails against the table. “We could invite him to our reunion ball at Lord and Lady Merton’s. Or perhaps I could simply go to him. It’s not proper etiquette, but he doesn’t seem bothered by such matters, and I’m too desperate now to mind a bit of a scandal.”

  “I’ll speak to him and arrange a meeting.” Diana heard her own voice and the words she spoke, but they reverberated painfully in her chest.

  This morning, her heart had been full of joy and her mind raced with delicious memories. Now she felt hollow, empty, and could only force out words she knew she should say.

  “Do you think he’ll still consider marrying me after that business with Hambly?”

  Diana looked at her friend—blond, beautiful, clever, and fashionable. A viscount’s daughter. A noble lady who wished for nothing so much as to marry and manage a household of her own. She was precisely what Aidan had wanted.

  But the previous night, all their whispered words, the way they’d loved each other. That was true too.

  “Diana?” Grace prompted. “Is there still a chance?”

  “I don’t know.” They were the most honest words Diana could offer.

  She was a woman who spent her days puzzling over design conundrums and wanted nothing so much as to solve every mystery she encountered. But Diana couldn’t calculate this. She couldn’t be objective about Grace’s dilemma or her own. All she could do was what she’d never done before. She could follow her heart.

  Her heart led her to Aidan, but she loved him enough to want his happiness first. She couldn’t be the cause of his missing out on what he craved most.

  “We shall see,” she told Grace. “We’ll soon see.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Aidan stared at the Ashbys’ red front door and felt an odd wave of déjà vu rush over him. Less than a fortnight past, he’d paced the same pavement and pondered whether he should go inside and face Diana.

  No debate plagued his mind now. He was aching to see her again, touch her, hold her. He knew what he wished to say. He’d practiced every word. Reaching up, he patted his upper jacket pocket and felt the square outline underneath.

  Only one uncertainty lingered. He knew his intentions and desires, but he needed to discover hers.

  And there was only one way to find out.

  He approached the door to knock, but before he could lift his hand, Diana’s twin brother emerged. He stopped in his tracks when he spotted Aidan.

  “Iverson.” Dominick Ashby looked shocked to find a visitor on their doorstep, but then he stepped aside and ushered Aidan in. “I take it you’re looking for my sister. She’s in her workshop, of course. Rarely out of it these days.”

  Rather than depart as he’d intended, Ashby shut the front door, crossed his arms, and quirked a brow as he stared at Aidan.

  “This is the part where I ask what your intentions are toward my sister.” Ashby’s eyes were the same color as Diana’s, his hair the same dark brown. There was a similarity in the lines of their faces, but her gaze was full of life and energy. Ashby’s was awash in cynicism, even a hint of anger bubbling beneath the surface.

  “They’re honorable. In fact, I’d like to speak to your mother before I see Diana.”

  Ashby blinked and his lips parted slightly. “By God, you’re a brave man.”

  “I suppose that’s better than you telling me I’m a fool.” Aidan slipped a finger behind the knot of his tie and gave a gentle tug. Ashby’s words sparked a fresh ripple of nerves.

  “How could I call you a fool? Any man who sees fit to admire my sister possesses good taste, at the very least. But you’ve taken it a step further.” Ashby zeroed in on the bulge in Aidan’s upper coat pocket. “In fact, it seems you’re willing to take this all the way to the altar. I can only wish you luck.”

  “I am, and thank you.”

  The young man stuck out a hand and clapped Aidan on the shoulder. “A word of advice?”

  “I’ll take as many as you have.” Somewhere along the way Aidan’s disdain for taking the advice of others had been cast away.

  “She’s stubborn.”

  “So I’ve gathered.”

  “I don’t know that she’s ever truly followed her own heart.” Ashby waved. “With her inventions, of course, she has, but sometimes I think it’s all as much of a trap as her passion. She works like a woman possessed at times, as if she must do all the things our father did not.”

  Aidan sensed that drive in her, a kind of compulsion that fueled her. He’d once felt the same about achieving wealth and finding the truth about his past. Now he only wanted Diana and whatever future they could build together. All the rest would fall into place.

  “Don’t let her fob you off with excuses,” Ashby went on. “She may refuse you and you must accept that—”

  Aidan opened his mouth to protest but Ashby stopped him, a finger raised between them.

  “I’m not saying she will. I only like to think of the worst so that I might occasionally be surprised when life is a bit less awful than I expect. If you love her, truly, I hope she says yes.” Ashby’s eyes turned sad and intensely serious. “She deserves no less.”

  “I agree, Mr. Ashby.”

  The young man smiled at Aidan and then turned his head toward the stairwell. “Mother, I’m off, but there’s a visitor to see you.” Without waiting for a reply, Ashby offered Aidan a final nod, opened the front door, and departed.

  Aidan cast a glance down the hall toward Diana’s workshop. His eagerness to see her was nearly unbearable.

  “Hello, sir,” a dark-haired woman called from the top of the stairs. “You’ve come to call on me?”

  Aidan noticed she leaned on a cane and he climbed the stairs to offer his arm to help her descend.

  “Chivalry is always appreciated, sir,” she said when they reached the bottom step. “Thank you. But perhaps you should tell me your name.”

  “Iverson, Mrs. Ashby. My name is Aidan Iverson.” And I’m here to marry your daughter.

  “The man who is in league with Diana.” She gestured toward the drawing room. “You’d better come sit down, sir.”

  For long silent minutes after they’d both taken a seat, she simply stared at him, studying and assessing.

  Aidan decided that it was best to jump straight in. “Mrs. Ashby, I regret that we have not had the chance to meet until now, but I’ve come to know your daughter well and I . . .”

  When his voice trailed off because he wasn’t certain how to phrase the rest, Mrs. Ashby filled the quiet.

  “What is it that you do, Mr. Iverson?”

  “I own several commercial enterprises, Mrs. Ashby. I also invest and help others do the same.”

  She chewed on this information, clasping her hands in her lap and holding a slight noncommittal smile on her face. “And who are your people, sir?”

  Aidan’s hands tensed into fists against his thighs. He’d loathed the question when the matchmaker had asked him weeks before, and he hated the question now. There was still so much he didn’t know, but he owed Diana’s mother whatever he did know.

  “My mother was in domestic service for much of her life.”

  He braced himself for her revulsion and judgment. Waited for her to scoff at the very notion that he could deserve her clever, beautiful, stubborn daughter.

  “Well,” she said after an endless stretch of nerve-racking quiet, “then you’ve come quite a long way, haven’t you, sir?”

  A jolt of shock rippled through him. He’d expected scorn or haughty disdain, not the respect he saw in the older woman’s eyes.

  “Yes, Mrs. Ashby, I suppose I have.” She had no idea. Anyone who had not spent years inside the grimy walls of a Lambeth workhouse could have no idea.

  “And now you’ve come about my daughter.”

  “I have.”

  “You’ve spent a great deal of time with her recently.” Diana’s mother glanced toward the hallway, toward her daught
er’s workshop. “She’s very committed to her work.”

  “I admire her commitment.”

  “You must convince her there’s more.”

  “More?” Aidan didn’t know whether he could convince Diana Ashby of much she wasn’t willing to consider on her own. If anything, she’d been the one to change him. But to show her what kind of life they could build together, to shower her with the affection she deserved—that he could do.

  “In some ways, she takes after her late father.” She gestured toward the framed technical drawings Aidan had noticed when he’d visited the Ashby a fortnight past. “In the end, he did nothing but work. He’d disappear into his laboratory not just for hours but days. Something drove him relentlessly.”

  Aidan’s pulse thudded loudly in his ears. She spoke of her late husband, but she might have been speaking of him. Or of Diana.

  “Ambition is well and good,” Mrs. Ashby said softly, “but there must be more. The joy of spending time with others. Contentedness in quiet moments.”

  “Yes, I’m learning that lesson, Mrs. Ashby.” He would give half his bank account for another night like the one he’d spent with Diana. That was joy. That was contentedness.

  “I hope she will too.” Mrs. Ashby leaned forward and tapped her cane on the rug. Quietly, she told him, “You have my blessing, sir. Though I suspect what you’ll be most in need of is perseverance.”

  Diana sat in the low lamplight of her workshop and listened to the echoes of voices in the drawing room down the hall. She couldn’t make out their words, but her mother’s voice and Aidan’s deep, warm timbre were unmistakable.

  She’d heard someone arrive nearly half an hour earlier, and she’d known instinctively that it was Aidan.

  He’d vowed before that night they’d spent together that he would not think of the future, but he was an honorable man. No matter how often he told himself he wasn’t a gentleman, Diana knew that he would behave like one in this matter.