Peter laid his hands on my shoulders and softly touched his forehead to mine. He didn’t speak any more words, just stood there solemnly for a long moment. Then he placed a kiss where his forehead had been, skirted around me and continued up the stairs to Mama’s chambers. I followed.
Her room smelled faintly of lavender. The windows were drawn, but a single shaft of sunlight warmed the floor near the bed where she lay. Matthew sat pensively in a chair, hands clasped, one knee shaking. Mama looked as pale as the sheets she lay upon, but her eyes lit up when she saw Peter’s frame filling the doorway.
“My son,” she rasped with a smile.
“Mama.” With how softly he spoke the choked word, there was no way she’d heard him, but her smile broadened anyway. Matthew’s shaking stopped as he watched Peter come to the side of the bed and kneel. His shoulders relaxed and an inaudible sigh escaped his lips.
I watched the scene, regret pecking at my soul like a murder of crows.
More tears filled my eyes. I hadn’t realized it, but buried beneath the matchmaking machinations of my mind, I had been subconsciously equating Mama’s welfare with my ability to make a match. I had thought that once she saw me married, her coughs would cease and she would live to see the faces of my children. It was a foolish thought. No amount of effort from me could stop the inevitable. And certainly not now, when I was without a fiancé and my prospects had never looked bleaker.
Not only had I emerged from my Season without a husband, I had emerged without a friend. I’d even managed to estrange Lady Iris—she, whose warning about Allerton I should have heeded. My conscience felt heavy whenever I thought about it.
I couldn’t decide whether or not I should’ve seen Allerton’s true character from the beginning. There were multiple, subtle signs along the way, and had I given ear to them, I would’ve dropped his suit and pursued someone else. Perhaps then, I’d have a fiancé at Mama’s bedside to comfort me.
Either way, it didn’t change the fact that in the end, I had failed to keep my promise. And now Mama was to die without seeing its fulfillment. I took a deep breath that held back my tears.
For the moment, now was enough. Mama was here. Peter and Matthew knew the truth and were at her side. Though she might be gone in a month, a week, here in this moment she smiled at the three of us as if she had all the time in the world.
As Mama and Peter began to speak in hushed tones, Matthew stood and brushed past me, giving them some privacy. I knew I should do the same. I turned.
“Eliza.”
I swiveled back around to see them both staring at me, Mama blinking slowly.
“I wish to see William as well.”
My pulse picked up speed, mouth parting slightly.
“Tomorrow,” she said. “Tomorrow go and fetch him. Entreat him to come . . . You must ensure he comes . . .”
After a pause, I nodded; another promise I had no wish to keep.
William did not want to see me—that much was evident in the way he kept his distance. It had been two weeks since the duel, and if he hadn’t visited by now, he was never going to. And even if he did wish to see me, it was as a protector ensuring the safety of his charge, endeavoring to keep the vow he made me all those years ago.
I didn’t wish to relive my shame, or disregard his pain. Both acted as barriers separating us. But lying there on her deathbed, smiling at Peter in the face of death, I couldn’t let Mama down.
I walked away, heart heavy in the knowledge that I already had.
Later that day, I rapped at Lady Iris’s door, before I was shown to the drawing room. There, I waited for a full half hour before Lady Iris made an appearance—and I knew it was a calculated move on her part.
When at last she swept into the room, she looked stunning in a peach muslin embroidered with silver thread. Her face was unreadable, but her chin, as always, rested high in the air. “Miss Wycliffe. I wasn’t expecting you.” Her cool gaze cut me down.
She hadn’t forgotten what I’d said to her—much less forgiven me for it. I licked my lips, restraining my hands from going to my neck where it had bruised under Allerton’s grip. The bruises were only faint marks now—and I’m sure Iris didn’t notice them, for I’d covered them with white powder—but I still felt them embedded in my skin, like scars that might never heal.
And if only I’d listened to Iris, the whole ordeal could’ve been avoided.
“Lady Iris—” I stopped and cleared my throat. “Iris.”
Her eyebrow twitched at the informal greeting.
“I have come to apologize.”
She blinked at that, but kept silent.
“You were right. Allerton was keeping mistresses. Even after I saw the ledgers for myself—saw how he had tricked me—even then, my heart still wanted to believe he was innocent. I think regardless of who had tried to warn me, I wouldn’t have listened, but I’m sorry it had to be you. And whether or not your claims had been true, I shouldn’t have brought your past into it. I know how painful it was to you, and it was cruel of me to use it to accuse you of deceit.
“I hope . . . I hope my actions have not caused an irreparable divide between us,” I finished.
In the silence that followed, I felt the weight of my words echoing about the room. Iris held her peace for a long time. She studied me with eyes narrowed, no doubt trying to decide if I were sincere.
At long last, she said, “William came to me, you know. At Almack’s.”
My brow furrowed. I hadn’t expected the conversation to take this turn. Mind drifting back, I recalled seeing them at the ball, conversing.
“He was suspicious of Allerton. Wanted to know about his goings on in France. The next day I wrote my sister, even as William left to scour the country on his own.”
It was a full three beats before my mouth dropped open. “I thought you said you didn’t know where he’d gone.”
She shrugged. “William is not the only one who can lie, Eliza.” She moved to her left, hands fidgeting. “Besides, he asked me to keep it from you.”
“So now you are betraying him by telling me this?”
Her hand waved the air. “It hardly matters, now that Allerton’s true character is brought to light. William knew you would never heed his suspicions. He’d lost any good favor he’d ever had with you—and he also knew you would accuse him of inventing it all. So he shipped away to France. That’s where he was those weeks—obtaining proof of Allerton’s deceit. For you. So you would believe him.” She gave me a look meant to infuse me with guilt over my actions. It worked. “Have you been to see him?”
I shook my head sadly. “He does not wish to see me. I have been giving him time.”
She scoffed. “Why would you do a thing like that? The only reason he has stayed away is because you asked him to. And I happen to know for a fact that it is driving him mad.” With a roll of her eyes, she walked over to a desk in the corner of the room, where she extracted a stack of letters from one of the drawers. Waving them in the air, she said, “These. All of them letters, practically begging me to check in on you.”
Something warm unfolded in my stomach. “Begging?”
She tossed them back onto the desk. “Well, as much as William knows how to beg. Insisting, demanding, dangling before me the fact that I owe him such a small favor at least. I did not check in on you, but I did not need to. I knew you were well, and told him so.”
Her pride couldn’t bring her to visit me again after our argument, more like. But I understood. In her shoes I would’ve done the same.
Iris sighed. “William has learned his lesson at last, it would seem—that to love someone is to put their needs above his own. But I will say,” she added with a smug, meaningful look, “he is struggling rather hard not to waver in that resolve.”
There was a long pause. “In fact, I will make you a wager.” Her eyes were sparkling and a little smile adorned her lips. “And if either of us wins, we must remain friends.”
It took me a moment
to comprehend what she’d said. Slowly, I mirrored her small smile. “I accept.”
“I will wager you that William lasts only three more days, before he gives in and comes pounding at your door.”
I gave a little chuckle before saying, “Now that, Iris, won’t do. We must find another topic for our wager—for I have already promised to go to him. But more than that . . . I believe I ought to.”
She nodded her head graciously in understanding. “I think so too.” She took a big breath. “Well! This has been a most prosperous meeting! At last you have learned how to properly dangle someone by making them agonize over the waiting. I should think my work here is done.” As she strolled out of the room she said over her shoulder, “Pity you’re in love with the man—or you might’ve had a lot of fun with him.”
Chapter 29
The whole house smelled like him.
I’d been to William’s residence a few times, but I’d never noticed the musky, masculine scent before now, like wood and vanilla wrapped in one. The butler stowed me in William’s study before he bowed to go summon his master.
The anxiety smoldering through every nerve since Mama had asked me to fetch William stoked into a bonfire. In every corner of the room there were signs of him—scribbled notes, filigree pocket watches, nautical and astronomy charts, silver keys, and rows upon rows of books with spines the same color as his eyes.
Stop it, Eliza, I told myself. After all, I knew what would come of this meeting, and there was little to be anxious about.
He would come into the room, pleasant but detached. Because of his pride, he wouldn’t ask me about what existed between us. Neither would I reveal my secrets, because too much had happened and we were no longer close. Instead, with slow words I would tell him of Mama’s illness. I could perfectly see his face blanching, his nervous energy as he rushed to her side, eyes worried. In the whirlwind, he would forget me.
And why shouldn’t he? Our feelings were inconsequential next to the news.
And after she passed, I could see what would become of us. He would comfort me while I mourned because that was his duty, and because old habits die hard, but then he would gradually distance himself, too tired of pretending away our past to be near me. Eventually, he would leave again, and I would move on. It was always meant to be this way. Our course was already charted.
Parting the curtain, I stared out the window into a private courtyard, blooming with new life. Buds of bluebells and cowslips fought for dominance on the sill. Around the courtyard, bits of greenery clung to the ground and climbed up the building, overgrown even in its newness.
“Hiding in the drapes again, I see.”
I did not immediately turn at the sound of his voice, instead continuing to stare out at the courtyard while letting the warm smile develop on my face. My ball of nerves started to unwind. I felt more at home in that one sentence spoken from his lips than I had in the past several months. Slowly, I let go of the curtain and turned around.
Leaning against the open doorway, William smirked at me, just as he had when he’d found me in that game of hide and seek, and when I’d hidden from three different dancing partners. Just as he’d done my whole life, regardless of whether I was in the drapes or not. The sight of it melted all my anxiety.
“And indeed,” he said, pushing off the doorframe and sauntering into the room, “to what purpose? I can only assume it would be to spy on me in my own home. And any woman who would go to such lengths must be hopelessly in love with me. Wouldn’t you agree?”
My close-lipped smile broadened as he neared. But his own smile slipped more and more with each step until he stood before me, face serious.
“Hello, ‘Liza,” he muttered.
A few drops of rain splattered on the window, bringing me back to a hushed sitting room in a dim inn, and a moment that was both dreadful and beautiful.
“Hello,” I said.
We stared at each other in silence, drinking the other in.
William’s gaze dipped to my neck, where my bruises were. There was no way he could see them, hidden behind a layer of powder, but his eyebrows came together in a question anyway.
“I am fine,” I said.
William’s frame relaxed.
“And I have you to thank for that,” I added, quietly. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t come—”
“How could you ever doubt I would?” One corner of his mouth quirked. “I promised you, didn’t I?”
He had. And looking at him, seeing his strength, tenderness, and goodness, made me wonder how I’d ever doubted it as well. In protecting me, he’d only ever remained constant.
“Is that why you are here?” he said at last, turning away. “To thank me? You could’ve done it in a nice little letter, you know.” He let out a hollow chuckle. “Don’t misunderstand—it is wonderful to see you again. So . . . so wonderful. But it is also . . .”
After a pause, he spun back. “Why have you come?”
“Mama is ill.” The words flew out my mouth before I’d even thought them. “She wants you at her side, so I have come to fetch you.”
William stood frozen for a few moments, his face blanching. Then he nodded gravely, gaze darting back and forth. My eyes narrowed. “. . . You knew?”
Giving a weak, one-shouldered shrug, he said, “No—I had my suspicions, but I had hoped . . . She kept insisting she was getting better, but every time I visited she appeared worse.” He swallowed. “That was . . . that was part of the reason it’s been so difficult to stay away all this time. She’s been a mother to me as well, you know.”
There had been no malice when Mama had warned me against falling for William—she loved him as a son. And to see that love reciprocated in the concern on William’s face made me suddenly want to tell him the whole truth, though I’d come here determined not to. No longer bound to secrecy about Mama’s illness, I could now explain to William the reason behind the actions he found so confusing.
Right now he was acting like a friend—and that was something I desperately needed.
“Well,” I said, leaning back against the sill, which was barely low enough to keep me from standing, “you may have guessed she is dying, but I doubt you’ve guessed her dying is the reason I was trying to find a husband.”
He blinked, head rearing back. “What?”
I swiped at my nose, batting away the sudden tears. I kept my voice steady. “Unless I marry before she passes, I have no dowry. There is no twelve-thousand pounds.”
William’s face cleared in understanding. “So that is why you kept insisting you had no time.”
I nodded, but the movement broke the dam of emotion building in my throat. I buried my face in my hands, inexplicably ashamed. The glass at my back chilled my dress as I cried.
Perhaps I was ashamed because after the longest time of staying away, I’d come crawling back to him, only to break down at his feet. Or because I’d promised myself it was absolutely the last thing I would do.
But to my surprise, William came close and wrapped me in his embrace. I clung to him, my friend, wishing he would never let me go again. Regardless of what I’d ever said, regardless of whether he loved me, I wanted him by my side, to hold my hand when the storms came. To hold my hand through the one I was currently in.
“Oh Eliza, you dear, sweet girl.” He clutched the back of my head. “What a burden you have been bearing, and bearing all alone. I abandoned you when you needed me most. How did the weight of it all not crush you?”
Several moments more he held me as I composed myself. I breathed in the smell of his shoulder, my breath hitching on a sigh.
“For the past three months I have watched helplessly as Mama grew sicker and weaker,” I said, “feeling more and more pressure to make a good match, knowing I would be unhappy no matter the outcome. My only comfort was the thought that it would all be worth it, because in the end it would make Mama happy.”
The tears flowed freely now, so overcome that I w
as past feeling any shame. “Now I am free of Allerton, but I am without a husband, and back to where I started—worse off, in fact, because now I have no prospects and no time in which to find one. My reputation is ruined. I am scorned, and pitied, and now no one would take me even if I begged.”
William loosened his hold to look down at me and glance between my eyes. “. . . I would take you,” he murmured.
Shaking my head, I backed up against the window, out of his embrace. Even as the butterflies whizzed around in my stomach, my chest tightened with such a force that I couldn’t breathe, aching and aching.
I shook my head again. “Do not say such things, William. Not when you do not mean them. I know you too well, and I do not find it humorous. You are riddled with guilt, and pity for my situation. You want to protect me, and to make me laugh again.” I squeezed my eyes shut, causing tears to trail down my cheek. “You think an offer of marriage will make me feel better, but it is the opposite, sir, and I must beg you not to flirt with me.”
He neared, sweeping a knuckle down my tear-stained cheek. “’Liza. Surely you see it is not guilt, nor pity that drives me, but pure selfishness. For I would have you for my very own, and that—that is all I have ever wanted.”
William took hold of my chin, guiding my face to look up into his. I stared into his eyes, every part of me wanting—yearning—to believe him.
“I have always been selfish when it comes to you, and I think I always will be. But these past weeks have taught me that, even above the deepest and most cherished desires of my heart, what I want most is for you to be happy. If that happiness includes me, then I will take you in a heartbeat and never let go. And if not . . .” He swallowed. “Well. What else can I do, but try to find happiness on my own?” His eyes started to sparkle, a corner of his lips turning up. “But Eliza, it’s going to be devilish difficult finding it. I do wish you’d save me the trouble.”
A breathy laugh burst out of me. I stared at him, the moisture in my eyes clearing as hope fluttered to life inside me. My lips parted before I asked in a soft voice, “Do you love me?”
A Lord of Many Masks (Wycliffe Family Book 2) Page 26