She had found herself, after that dinner with his mother, when he had been all that was polite, unable to simply cut him, unable to just turn and walk away. Common courtesy demanded that she at least tolerate his presence. Her heart rebelliously demanded that she not only tolerate it, but desire it.
She was a little worried that he was drawing unwanted attention to the two of them… for, by the end of the second week, others were beginning to notice the Duke’s special attentions paid towards the Earl’s daughter, the near spinster who had only just returned to London society.
But still, despite that publicly visible attention, he had not called on her. She did not know what he wanted, or intended, any more than the gossips did. More than the whispers, however, Elizabeth was beginning to fear for her heart.
To her surprise and dismay, she was beginning to hope again. The longing she had tried so hard to deny, the space in her heart which she had not clearly realised had still been so empty, now consumed her awareness and demanded to be filled. Her cold and closed off attitude towards others, which had only strengthened since Blackstone’s rejection of her three years ago, was beginning to melt into a vulnerable puddle of uncertainty.
That Saturday evening, the largest Ball of the Season was being held at what was accounted the most fashionable house in London. Elizabeth simply knew that Blackstone, ever popular amongst the ton now that he had reappeared in London, would be there. She both hoped for and dreaded seeing him.
Despite so many small conversations during the week, despite his warm manner to her, she hardly knew how to interact with him. He was winning back her heart, but she hadn’t asked him to – didn’t want him to. For to allow him to do so left her at risk of being hurt again. Was he heartlessly playing with her affections? How could she know? His manner now did not align with the man she knew him to be – a man capable of abandoning, without warning or explanation, the woman who thought that he loved her.
Which only meant that she could not, at all, trust him. She didn’t think that she could stand having her heart broken by him again.
*****
As Elizabeth gave her shawl to the footman in the entryway that evening, butterflies of nervousness fluttered around in her stomach – something she hadn’t experienced in quite a while. Anne unexpectedly took her arm and steered her to a quiet corner of the room which was devoid of excitedly chattering guests.
“If you would like to leave early, or have me save you from a dance or conversation, just let me know.”
Anne sounded uncharacteristically serious, and Elizabeth was touched; her older sister must really be concerned about her.
“Anne, about the Duke–” she started.
“Lady Elizabeth,” an expressive voice said from behind her, and Elizabeth turned around with a thrill running through her which was compounded of both excitement and dread. Blackstone bowed deeply and said, holding out his hand and gazing into her eyes, “May I have this dance?”
Before Elizabeth quite knew what was happening, he was leading her to join the line of dancers forming up for the next set. During the dance, she found herself utterly distracted, glad that she could perform the required steps completely based on long practice – for otherwise she was certain that she would have misstepped multiple times.
What might he say to her?
The dance, whilst slower and elegant, did not provide many good opportunities for conversation – but still, some words in passing could generally be managed.
But, whilst he had the usual roguish grin and twinkle in his eye, although there were many opportunities to whisper sentiments in her ear, Blackstone stayed silent, simply seeming to enjoy the chance to hold her hand as the movements of the dance allowed it. She had no idea what was going on in his mind, and the tension which that created was like to drive her mad. By the end of the dance, she was so curious to know what he might say that she was half tempted to demand that he declare his intentions or stop bothering her.
She caught her sister looking on with folded arms, clearly ready to step in at the slightest indication from Elizabeth. She appreciated the concern, but felt a little guilty that she hadn’t simply explained the situation to her sister. Yet to do so… that would mean revealing her own foolishness, both in the past, and now. It was not something she could quite countenance doing, yet.
As the last chords of music reverberated through the room, Elizabeth turned to Gavin, opening her mouth to speak; but he spoke before she could.
“Quickly, to the gardens.”
Her hand in his, he led her through the crowd who were stepping forward to form the line for the next dance. Part of her wondered what people would think, to see him lead her by the hand like that – but the rest of her did not care. Her heart beat harder and she felt almost giddy. She found herself smiling as they swiftly wove through the people towards the terrace doors, below which terrace was one of the largest private gardens in London.
He tugged her through the doors into the cool night air, and past the scatter of people who stood talking on the terrace, then down the steps into the lantern lit garden.
He turned once they were safely – or was that perhaps unsafely…? – partially hidden from the people on the terrace by a vine covered trellis, standing in the cool air under the moonlight. He was still holding her hands, looking at her with a pleased grin, and Elizabeth found herself laughing excitedly, feeling quite adventurous, giddy with it, even though she knew this was dangerous – to her heart, and her reputation. Only Gavin had ever made her feel like this. Then she remembered that she did not want to fall for Blackstone again. That way lay only pain, no matter how wonderful this might feel in the moment. Elizabeth quickly took her hands out of his and put them behind her back, her smile vanishing.
“Did you want to talk to me about something, Your Grace?”
Blackstone must have been in an especially good mood that evening, because even Elizabeth’s coolness of manner could not dampen it.
“I release you from having to use formal language with me,” he teased, manufacturing a haughty look. “Calling me ‘Your Grace’ is not necessary. But… you may call me ‘Oh Magnificent One’ instead, if it pleases you.”
Elizabeth couldn’t help but laugh, even though she tried not to. She hadn’t realised how much she’d missed his company – how he was always the one who could make her smile. The more time she spent with him, the harder it became to think of him as just ‘Blackstone’ – three years ago, he had done her the honour of asking her to call him just by his forename, and she had done the same with him. In her thoughts, persistently, he was still ‘Gavin’ – no matter what formality might require.
“Gavin…” she said hesitantly.
“Yes?”
He spoke lightly, his voice almost teasing, leaning close to her. Elizabeth waved him away and shook her head, even as the scent of his cologne surrounded her, dizzying, sensual, caressing her mind with echoes of the past. She needed to find the right words, find the right way to ask the question she desperately wanted the answer to. Whether he would grant her that answer was another thing entirely – but she had to ask.
“Why did you come back? Why approach me again?” she asked finally, folding her arms. In the end, plain speaking had seemed easiest.
She could see that Gavin was about to make a joke, to casually deflect her, but, as she moved restlessly, and the moonlight fell full on her face, he paused. It would seem that, once he had seen her face clearly, he had changed his mind.
“Elizabeth…” he started, and then stopped. “Whatever you’re thinking, is not how it is,” he continued, unable to resist a grin.
She was tired of playing games. Glancing around, she made sure that no one was near them in the garden, then spoke even more bluntly.
“You rejected me once. I want to know what you want now.”
Blackstone looked genuinely surprised, as well as concerned.
“I didn’t do it because I wanted to, I did it because I had to!”
Elizabeth crossed her arms. He was going to have to explain better than that. Much better – for who could force a Duke – or a Duke’s heir, as he had been, to do anything they did not wish to?
“Had to?”
Blackstone looked at her and swallowed hard.
“This is… rather embarrassing for me to talk about,” he began awkwardly. She shook her head, disappointed – if he was not willing to overcome some difficulty, then she was not willing to wait. She began to turn away. As she did, he caught her hand and pleaded, “Wait, Elizabeth. I’ll be serious, I promise.”
He gestured to a nearby bench and they both sat down, Elizabeth nervously perched on the edge of her seat, unable to imagine what he might be about to say. A deep curiosity was stirring within her, however. She had expected that he might refuse to answer, or that his answers might be flippant and evasive. But this sudden seriousness portended something altogether different.
“Serious. Then I will listen. Please proceed.”
Gavin looked at her, eyes a little unfocused, and began to speak in a voice barely above a whisper.
“I was always the black sheep of the family. You remember how irresponsible and carefree I was three years ago?” He looked at Elizabeth and she raised an eyebrow as if to say ‘was’? Gavin chuckled and said, “I admit that I am still a little that way, but I was far worse then, I promise.” He looked genuinely embarrassed now and went on more quietly again, “I never told you this, but I didn’t do well at university. In fact, I got sent down the night before we met.” Now both of Elizabeth’s eyebrows were raised, but Gavin didn’t see; he was lost in thought. “My father had allowed me to take over management of some of his estates that same year. Naturally, I made a mess of things,” he sighed regretfully. “The months I spent with you were amazing, but whilst I was caught up in that, I neglected everything else – I was avoiding dealing with things, I think.”
He smiled at her but there was sadness in his eyes. She looked down at her hands as he went on.
“Then my father died.” There was a silence. Part of Elizabeth regretted making Gavin revisit painful memories, but he did owe her an explanation. He sighed, and, after another long moment, continued. “I felt like a failure. I felt guilty. I had let down my parents. I was irresponsible and good for nothing.”
Elizabeth couldn’t help herself – the words tumbled out, her voice tone tinged with anger and frustration. Whilst all he had said so far informed her understanding of the man, it did nothing to explain why he had abandoned her without a word.
“Why did you not tell me? Did you think so little of me?”
“It is because I thought so highly of you that I would not burden you with my failures,” Gavin said emphatically, looking back at her. “What kind of man would I be, if I had gone begging for your sympathy at such a time? And what claim could I have expected to have on your continued attentions? I had only a collection of bad habits and defects to offer you. I was ashamed of myself, and ashamed to continue seeing you, as if I was worthy of you – for I was not. I had to prove myself to you – to become a worthy enough man to court you again.”
Elizabeth thought for a moment. Before, she had felt hurt and confused. Now, she felt angry that Gavin hadn’t trusted her enough to be honest. But the fact was, however irrational she viewed his actions as being, his reason for abandoning her could have been worse. So very much worse. The kinds of worse that she had explored in her imagination, night after night, for three long years.
All things considered, she was sure that when she’d had time to process it all, she’d feel quite happy about his reasoning.
Elizabeth wasn’t about to let Gavin know that, though. She composed herself and pretended to be thinking.
“What if I don’t want you to court me again?” she asked archly, tossing her head a bit to the side.
“Do you want me to?”
He leant dangerously close, his voice husky, and a thrill went through her, a shiver of both fear and desire. She would never understand later what had made her nod – after all, she had been telling herself, with intense conviction, that she did not want him, would not allow him back into her heart. But… she nodded. He leant closer, slowly closing the gap between them until their lips met.
Shocked, she rose to her feet in one startled movement, one hand flying to her lips, even as the heat of that brush of his lips slipped through her, to her very core.
Where before the garden had seemed completely quiet around them, as if they were somehow isolated from the world, now sound came rushing back in. Sound which was everything she did not want to be hearing. There were gasps, and a flurry of voices, voices which came from two small clusters of people who were walking along the lantern lit paths.
People who had seen that kiss.
Elizabeth felt her face drain of colour. She was ruined. There would be no escaping it – not with that many witnesses, including, she saw with growing horror, some of the biggest gossips of the ton. She wavered where she stood, feeling more faint than she ever had in her life before.
At that moment, Gavin jumped up, seized her hand, and tugged her towards the house.
She went with him, still too shocked to consider doing anything else. As they began to move, he turned, and sketched an in-motion bow to the onlookers, favouring them with a broad smile.
Elizabeth considered, in that moment, that perhaps he had lost his mind. But still she allowed him to lead her away, across the garden, across the terrace, and back into the ballroom, where the orchestra were just stopping, to take a break before the next set.
He pulled her towards one end of the room, then stopped, and raised his voice.
“We have an announcement to make.”
Almost immediately the lively chattering died down and every face in what seemed like the entire ballroom turned curiously towards them. Fainting was beginning to seem like an excellent idea, and she wavered on her feet again.
“I would like to announce that Lady Elizabeth Chartwell has just done me the honour of becoming my betrothed.”
The only reason she did not, in that instant, fall to the floor in that faint, was that he slid his arm around her waist, and held her upright as people came forward to congratulate them.
Chapter Five
Elizabeth was shaking – Gavin could feel it as he held her pressed against his side. People crowded around them, issuing congratulations, offering them glasses of champagne, and generally becoming over-excited as a result of the announcement.
He glanced down at Elizabeth’s face – it was white, and her eyes were full of shock. He swallowed hard. It had seemed the right thing to do, once he had realised that their kiss had been seen. If he was honest with himself, he would have to admit that ‘saving her reputation’ was, at that point, almost purely an excuse. He had seen the chance to have what he wanted, to marry the woman he had loved for more than three years, and had acted on the spur of the moment.
Would she spurn him? He hoped not, for surely, if she intended to, she would have done so now, immediately after he had uttered those words. She had not. So, perhaps… she would forgive him? Everything he had done, for three years had been for her, despite how it had seemed.
It was terrible that, in doing those things, he had hurt her, for that had never been his intention. Now… now they were betrothed, for good or ill, and if she cried off, her reputation would be ruined, as surely as it would have been by the kiss, if he had not declared the betrothal. He had not intended to trap her, but the suspicion slid into him, like a knife to his heart, that she might think it to be so.
He stayed by her side for the rest of the evening, ensured that she ate and drank, that the press of people never became impossible, and that, at a suitable time, she could escape the crowds and return to her sister’s home.
Anne, Lady Carsteade, had met his eyes with an expression which said that, had they not been surrounded by the gossips of the ton, she would have been asking him very hard questions
indeed. But Anne had said nothing, had simply gathered Elizabeth to her, exclaiming about how tired her sister looked, and hurried her out to their carriage.
He would have to call on Elizabeth, very soon, and explain himself, and begin the planning for their wedding. To marry her had been his deepest desire for so long now, it seemed almost impossible that it was going to happen.
This time, as he watched her walk away from him, his heart sang, which was a vast improvement on anguish.
*****
“How could he? How could he?”
Elizabeth paced the parlour, back and forth, twisting her hands together. Anne hurried over and shut the parlour doors, but not before hurriedly asking a maid to bring tea.
Then she turned around, went to Elizabeth, and caught her hands in a firm grasp and gently directed her younger sister to a chair. They had just arrived home and hadn’t even taken off their shawls.
“Elizabeth, you must calm down,” Anne’s voice was gentle and she looked concerned, but more about her sister than the situation at hand, Elizabeth knew. But she could not just sit here, no matter what Anne might want. After a few seconds on the chair, she sprang up and began to pace again. She had been silent for the entire carriage ride back to the townhouse, but now her anger was finding its way past the numbness of shock, and she was working herself into a frenzy. “The Duke is an honest man, I’m sure,” Anne said hesitantly, cautiously laying a hand on her agitated sister’s shoulder. “I am sure you didn’t want to announce it this way, but–”
“Anne!” Elizabeth said accusingly. “You don’t really believe that was planned, that the Duke and I are to be married, do you?”
“Elizabeth!” her sister exclaimed in return. “Was that man lying? Has he been bothering you?”
“No! No, nothing like that.”
Elizabeth paused, confused.
Part of her wanted to defend Gavin, whilst a larger part of her wanted to berate him. Seeing her sister’s confusion, Anne spoke again, her voice full of exasperation.
Her Determined Duke: Clean Regency Romance Page 4