The Heiress Gets a Duke

by Harper St. George

  Chapter 23

  What greater thing is there for two human souls, than to feel that they are joined for life.

  George Eliot

  What in the Sam Hill are you doing here?” Violet’s irritated voice sounded throughout the entryway of the Crenshaws’ townhome.

  Taken unawares, Evan and Leigh glanced up to see the lovely young woman hurrying down the stairs and descending upon him like an avenging angel. Sam Hill? It did not take a bloody genius to understand that now was not the time to question that peculiar turn of phrase. Reginald gave him a stiff bow and slowly backed his way down the corridor as if he knew what was about to happen.

  “Now you’ve done it,” Leigh muttered dryly.

  “Done what?” Evan asked.

  The corner of Leigh’s mouth kicked up, but he did not answer. He was too consumed with watching Violet rush toward them in a flurry of creamy silk edged with navy. When Leigh had mentioned joining him to pay his call, Evan had thought the request odd but had been too focused on his intention to put up a fight. Now he understood Leigh’s reason for coming along. He wanted to see Violet.

  To Violet, Evan said, “I have come to see August, but Reginald has told me—yet again—that she is not at home.” Evan had called yesterday afternoon, bruised and with an ache in his head from the after-fight celebrations, and had been told that the entire family was not at home for the rest of the evening. Taking the information as a bit of a reprieve, Evan had gone back to his rooms to make himself fresh for the call today and rehearse the words he had planned to win her over. August liked him well enough, but he knew he was in for a fight when it came to her freedom.

  Violet’s eyes narrowed as she came to a stop before them. “She is not at home to you today or tomorrow or next year. I don’t care if you are a duke; you are not welcome here. Leave!” She pointed toward the door, and despite the fact that he had faced Wilkes and any number of dangerous opponents, a trickle of fear raced down his spine.

  Something was wrong. This seemed to be about more than their agreement to break off their betrothal. “Are you angry with me because I released August from our betrothal?”

  She stared at him much as Leigh had when Evan had admitted he wanted to marry August for herself and not her money. “I am angry with you because you are the most arrogant, inconsiderate, faithless arse of a man I have ever had the displeasure to know. Forget that you ever met my sister and get out of this house.”

  “I see there is no need for me to expound upon Rothschild’s virtues. You’ve summed them up nicely,” said Leigh, amusement lacing his voice.

  Turning her wrath to his friend, she asked, “You. Why are you here?”

  “Because I like fireworks.” Leigh grinned.

  The full force of her glare should have singed Leigh where he stood. The color high in her cheeks, she said, “Remove yourselves from the premises.”

  “Perhaps you should hear him out first,” Leigh challenged her.

  Violet opened her mouth to release what Evan was certain would be an expletive-laced thrashing, so he stepped between them. “Wait,” he said. This had to be about something more. Evan knew that he risked bodily harm with his inquiry. However, he was not leaving until he understood what was happening. “Please. I must talk to her. Is she truly not home?” When Violet merely stared at him as if she wanted to bodily eject him herself, he rushed to the stairs. “August! Please come down!”

  Violet hurried behind him and pulled on his arm. “She’s not here. Why do you care anyway? You have your ballet dancer or God knows how many other women waiting back at your club.”

  “Gabrielle? What the devil does she have to do with this?” Evan faced her, vaguely aware of Leigh leaning against the wall to watch them in amusement.

  “You aristocrats with your mistresses.” She rolled her eyes. “August deserves better than a man who would rather be with his mistress than her.”

  “Gabrielle is not my mistress. Where did you get that idea? August and I have discussed this.” A glance upstairs confirmed that August had not appeared. Reginald had conveniently taken himself off to unknown parts of the house. Evan had a terrible feeling that she was not at home, but he had to make certain. He started to go upstairs but then stopped as a terrible thought occurred to him. Had someone told her about the scene with Gabrielle after his fight? Anyone present could have seen her kiss him, but who would have reported back to August? Had her brother come?

  “Fine. Perhaps mistress is too strong a word for someone you only occasionally share a bed with.”

  Someone had seen the kiss. He stormed back down the few steps and faced Violet. “Whomever it was who saw Gabrielle with me at the fight completely misunderstood, and I do not appreciate the interference in my relationship with August.”

  “August saw you, you dolt! She had Max take her to the fight. You kissed that woman right in front of her. You only have yourself to blame.”

  The blood drained out of his head, and he had to grab the banister to keep himself from wobbling. He felt like he had just gotten hit in the face by one of Wilkes’s ham-handed punches. A cold flood of unease prickled his skin. “August was there!”

  He had not realized he had spoken aloud until Violet said, “Yes, and she saw you kiss her. She had gone because she wanted—” But she abruptly clapped her hand over her mouth as if she had said too much.

  “Wanted what?” he asked. His future depended on the answer to that question. “Tell me, Violet. Why did she come?”

  Violet shook her head as she backed away. “I’m not telling you anything.”

  He wanted to shake the answer out of her but managed to calmly put his hands on her shoulders instead. “Please. I have come because I love her. I want to marry her.” She opened her mouth to no doubt refute that claim, but he pressed on. “It is true that Gabrielle kissed me. We were lovers years ago, and she asked me to go home with her after the match. I turned her down.” Fixing on any point to sway the disbelief in her eyes, he said, “Ask Leigh. He was there and saw it all. He was even with me at the club later. He knows I did not sleep with her.”

  “It’s true,” Leigh said in his lazy drawl, pushing himself away from the wall to come stand beside Evan. “Gabrielle was otherwise engaged. He slept alone, though the devil himself knows why.”

  Her brow furrowed, and for the first time the mask of anger she wore began to crack. “Why should I believe you?”

  Leigh grinned again, but this time it was hollow. “You should not ever believe me, Miss Crenshaw.” It was a warning heavy with a meaning Evan could not take the time to figure out.

  “I love August,” Evan said, bringing her attention back to him.

  “Is that why you called yesterday?” Violet asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “Yes, I came to tell her that I want to marry her.”

  Some of the tension left her shoulders, and she said, “She went to the fight because she wanted to tell you that she still harbors some affection for you. I believe she wanted to continue a courtship.”

  He laughed and pulled her into his arms, hugging her so tightly that she squirmed away, glaring up at him with a hint of her former fierceness. “My apologies,” he murmured. “Where has she gone? I need to speak to her. I cannot bear the thought of her believing that I chose another woman over her.”

  Violet paled and glanced nervously at the door. “She left with Max . . . back to America.” She spoke the last in such a soft voice that it took a moment for Evan to realize what she meant.

  America. New York. Across an entire fucking ocean!

  “Bloody fucking hell,” said Leigh.

  “Today?” Evan asked.

  Violet nodded. “They left for Liverpool this morning, and their ship sails tomorrow.”

  He could only stare at her, hardly able to believe what she was telling him. August was leaving. She wo
uld return to New York thinking he did not want her. “Which ship? What time?”

  “You’ll never make it.”

  “I have to try.” If he did not reach her in time, he would simply follow her.

  “Wait right here.” Violet hurried into the drawing room and came back with a sheet of paper. “This is their itinerary. What can I do?”

  “I have to go directly to the train station. Send a message to the club that Stewart should bring my trunk.” He followed Leigh out but then turned back to her. “Thank you, Violet.”

  She smiled as she threatened him. “Don’t make me regret it.”

  He shook his head and hurried down the steps to his carriage.

  “I can telegram the ship and have a message sent to her once we drop you at the station,” Leigh offered.

  “Thank you,” said Evan, leaning his head back against the seat and closing his eyes against an oncoming headache. He was certain a telegram would not keep August, not if she truly believed he had chosen Gabrielle. If he could make the ship in time, he would spend the rest of his life making certain August did not regret choosing him.

  Peering at his friend through one eye, Evan said, “Violet does not seem to approve of you. Do your intentions still lie in that direction?”

  Leigh smirked. “Despite your newfound bourgeois attitude toward marriage, a fondness is not strictly required for marriage among our set. You know that.”

  A laugh tumbled out of Evan, despite the anxiety churning inside him. “You have no idea what you are in for, you fool.”

  * * *

  * * *

  August gripped one of the posts of her bed as the ship swayed, nearly making her stumble. The beast gave a great grumble and groan as it pulled away from the dock and deeper into the harbor. A quick glance at the clock bolted to a side table told her the ship was indeed leaving right on schedule. Somehow she had lost track of time as she and Mary had hurried to put her things into the armoire.

  “I suppose we’re leaving. Hurry on up to the deck, Mary, I wouldn’t want you to miss it.”

  The woman’s gaze went to the window. The movement was slow but steady, making it appear as if the dock and the people waving goodbye were the ones drifting away. “Are you certain, miss?”

  “Yes, I don’t care to watch us leave, but there’s no reason you can’t.” Max had come in earlier from the suite adjoining hers to invite her to go up onto deck with him, but she had refused him. The last thing she wanted was a final glimpse of the place that had upturned her life. The sooner they left it behind, the better. “I won’t need you again until it’s time to dress for dinner.”

  “Yes, miss.” She hurried from the room so fast that the door didn’t quite click closed.

  Several voices in the corridor outside rose as if a group of three or four people were talking all at once. After several nights of terrible sleep, August’s eyes felt grainy and tired, and she had been irritable all morning. The last thing she wanted was a disturbance because of noisy neighbors. She sighed and closed the door, locking it just as the commotion was dying down.

  The cabin was small but well-appointed with dark wood furniture and fabrics in emerald green with gold trim. She eyed the bed with longing but opted to do a little work at her desk instead. Papa had been so angry that she was leaving, he had sent a small trunk of tedious reports with her that she was to read through and make recommendations. All of them about various manufacturing interests in the British Isles. She supposed she should be ecstatic that he had not gone through on his threat to cut her out of Crenshaw Iron. She wasn’t. She was sad and heartbroken.

  She had hardly settled herself into her chair when a knock sounded at the door from the adjoining cabin. Not Max’s cabin, but the one on the other side. Thinking it must have been accidental and related to the earlier commotion, she ignored it and picked up the first document. The words blurred on the page. Perhaps Papa had been right and running home had been the wrong thing to do. Perhaps she should have simply ignored Evan and faced Society.

  The knock came again, and this time more insistently.

  “For heaven’s sake,” she grumbled. Crossing the few steps to the adjoining door, she said, “Hello?”

  A knock was the response.

  Irritated with having to deal with inconsiderate neighbors on top of her heartache, she unlocked and wrenched the door open. “This is very inap—” The words died on her tongue. His hair was tousled, and it appeared he had not shaved that morning and might even be wearing his clothing from the day before, but Evan stood before her. For a moment she was too stunned to react. Her heart gave a thump, and it was as if her body came alive for the first time since that night in the library. There was no gray, or gloom, only Evan. The intense joy that coursed through her veins was frightening. How could she be so willing to forgive him? Instead of answering that question for herself, she slammed the door in his face.

  “August.” It swung so hard that it failed to latch and bounced back open. He stepped into her cabin and closed the door behind him. The room was hardly wide enough to take more than ten steps in any direction. With him in it, it shrunk to half its original size.

  “What are you doing here?” In a panic she glanced out the window to see that they had pulled even farther away from shore. Too far to swim if she somehow managed to get him up on the deck and pushed him off.

  “I came to talk to you.”

  “To talk? You’ve boarded an ocean liner bound for New York!” Did he expect to talk to her and then have the entire ship dock so that he could disembark? No! It suddenly became clear to her exactly what had happened. The commotion next door was because he had forced some unknown couple out of their cabin. “You made that poor couple move to another cabin?”

  He grinned. “What else was I to do? Besides, they are hardly poor after the amount I was forced to give them to accept second-class accommodations.”

  “And you wonder why you have financial troubles,” she said, crossing her arms across her chest.

  He laughed. “God, I missed you, August.”

  “Don’t say that. You hardly missed me when you had Madame Laurent to replace me.”

  “I know that you saw her kiss me, but I turned her down.”

  “Lie. I saw how you looked at her.” Her heart twisted as she remembered that look. How could it still hurt so badly?

  He shook his head and approached her slowly, like a wild, cornered animal. Good. He had hurt her terribly; she wanted him to be afraid. “I do not know what you think you saw. She kissed me and asked me to spend the night with her. I told her I wanted you. No more, no less.”

  He stared at her with such earnest devotion, she wanted to believe him, but she couldn’t forget his mouth on hers.

  “I did not come all this way to lie to you,” he continued. “After you agreed to break the betrothal, I thought it was because you were relieved. I thought that perhaps I could go back to how things were before we met, a man with no responsibilities. But I am not that man anymore. I want you, August. I want the life we had planned. Every moment I spent away from you was a moment I spent thinking about you, wanting you, loving you.”

  She gasped at the word and stepped back, afraid to believe because it was so close to what she wanted.

  He kept stepping forward, until she came to a stop when her back came up against one of the posts at the foot of the bed. “Are you running from me?” His voice was too damn soft and gentle, intimate in the small space between them. He didn’t touch her, but he was so close she could see his chest rise and fall with his breath.

  This was almost too much to take in at once. “No . . . I . . . How did you find me?”

  “Violet. She told me everything after she called me a few choice names.”

  August couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Violet yelling at him. “You must have won her over.”

 
“I want to win you over.” He bent his neck to meet her gaze directly. “I want to marry you, August.”

  “Why didn’t you say as much when you told me about the mining interest, then?”

  “Because I was afraid you would be too happy to have your freedom back.” That admission stole her heart. “If you had said you wanted to keep up our courtship, I would have agreed. I thought that giving you your freedom was what you wanted. I thought it was the right thing to do.” He touched a lock of hair that fell in a curl over her ear. Her scalp prickled in pleasure when he gave it a light tug. “It was the right thing to do. Did you enjoy your freedom?” His warm breath drifted over her lips. They very much wanted to kiss him. His gaze was soft, but worry lurked in its depth.

  She shook her head. “It was miserable.”

  He gave her a slow smile. “Then the choice is yours. God knows I want you, but if you do not want me, I promise I will do my best to leave you alone for the rest of the crossing.”

  She kissed him, stifling the soft cry that forced its way out of her chest. “Of course I want you.” Taking his face between her hands, she pressed her mouth to his, craving the taste of him.

  He crushed her against him, and when they could no longer breathe, he buried his face in her hair. “Thank God.” He whispered the words over and over again.

  Finally, he rifled in the inside pocket of his coat and pulled out a little velvet satchel. Backing away just enough to bring it between them, he emptied the contents in the palm of his hand. It was a ring. A betrothal ring? He held it up for her inspection. A large emerald-cut ruby set in gold nestled in a cluster of diamonds. “It belonged to my grandmother. My mother’s mother,” he explained. “I chose it because it reminded me of the ruby necklace you wore with the scarlet dress.” He met her gaze only briefly before staring back at the ring, almost shy. “I think I knew I loved you then, because I imagined giving this ring to you to match.”