Already His (The Caversham Chronicles - Book Two)

by Sandy Raven

  Did they want her inheritance? If so, they could have gone about it in a different way and not inflicted this harm on her person. She’d heard stories of heiresses being abducted and taken to Gretna Green where they would be coerced into marriages, but she’d never met any. Had Sinclair done so, she never would have signed a certificate, and secondly, her brother would have contested it and had it deemed illegal.

  Then there was Michael.

  Why had he suddenly become so solicitous toward her? Now he believed in her virtue? She wondered what had changed his mind, for something obviously had.

  And why did he all of the sudden want to marry her? Especially now. It had to be because he pitied her. She didn’t want a husband who felt sorry for her, and that was all he felt right now. Whether he realized it or not.

  The pain of knowing that this was all Michael felt for her, hurt almost as much as the physical pain she felt due to Sinclair and Marlow’s actions. She’d told Ren the truth when she’d said Michael would come to resent her should she marry him. But she could never tell her brother what Michael believed of her. Refusing to marry him was the right thing to do. Eventually Michael would come to think he could have made a better match with a woman more virtuous than he thought her to be. One who didn’t have shame hanging over her from being compromised.

  She wished she’d never been abducted, and that Michael loved her.

  Conversely, if Michael had loved her, she never would have been abducted.

  It was a vicious circle, she knew, and one not likely to change her current predicament. Nothing would. Except maybe the passage of time. Time for her wounds, both emotional and physical to heal. Time for someone else to do something equally if not more reckless than she, making them the next target of the gossip columns and scandalmongers.

  Michael grew tired of waiting in the hallway outside Elise’s rooms. The chair he’d moved in front of her door two hours and ten minutes ago had become impossible to remain in. Thus he began wearing a path in the carpet. By his estimation, there was one hundred and twenty feet of runner in the hallway. At two and a half foot strides, it took him forty nine steps to make it from one end to the other. And if he shortened his stride mere inches, he could get fifty steps.

  This was bollocks, pacing the hall and sitting outside her door waiting for Elise to come out of her room so he might catch a moment with her.

  Elise was being obstinate. She’d skipped coming down for dinner the past two nights and had, in fact, taken to having all her meals brought up. She even skipped her morning ride once she learned he was in the barn waiting for her. In fact, since Michael had arrived, she’d not come out of her rooms at all.

  Which is why he waited in the hallway.

  Lady Beverly went in to visit Elise on his behalf, and returned with a message for him. “My lord, she does not wish to see you, and asks that you please go from her home so that she may continue with her life.”

  Elise’s words were like a blow to the gut, but he quickly recovered, replying, “Not until I have two minutes of her time, in private.”

  Beverly went back in Elise’s room, and quickly returned with another reply. “My friend has begged me to convey to you that she said all she had to say to you the morning after at Caversham House. She also asked me to remind you that honorable men keep their promises.”

  “Lady Beverly, I know I’ve been a boorish ass, but in my deepest heart I pray Elise still loves me. And I am not—” He paused and took a deep breath, collecting himself. “She must care. She must, or she wouldn’t be acting this way.”

  He lowered his frame into the under-sized, impractical chair he’d put in front of her door earlier. Crossing his legs at the ankle, he reclined as best he could. “So, tell the lady I will wait no matter how long it takes.”

  “Well,” her grandmother said as she entered Elise’s sitting room an hour later with her stitching in hand. Both Grandmother and Lia had taken to doing their stitching each afternoon with she and Beverly in the better light of her west-facing sitting room. “Michael said he is not leaving his spot, and that he will in fact sleep across your threshold tonight.” Elise watched her grandmother’s maid set her stitching on the table, then helped her grandmother onto the sofa under the window in Elise’s sitting room. “You know your brother will not allow this silliness to continue much longer before he says something, either in your favor or his friend’s.”

  When Elise sniffed and refused to comment, her grandmother continued, “If His Grace were to ask my opinion, to help him make a decision, I shall be completely honest with him.” The maid handed Grandmother her hoop frame and threaded needle, then set the pin cushion holding the other pre-threaded needles for later use on the side table. Without ever looking at Elise her maternal relative continued, “My opinion is that Lord Camden will make a wonderful match for you. Whatever tiff you feel you have will work itself out in time, and...”

  Beverly raised a startled gaze and sucked in a breath at Lady Sewell’s words.

  Elise was fighting tears again, just when she thought she’d dried out. She looked at the penciled pattern in the taught fabric of the embroidery hoop in her lap and watched the first of several tears fall onto the cloth. When the maid departed, she said through her tears, “It will never work. He doesn’t believe me and will never trust me.”

  “What are you talking about? He’s obviously ready to apologize for whatever caused this spat between you. He stands out there a man in love, wanting to grovel! I say make him grovel a bit, then put both yourselves out of misery and marry the man.”

  “I have said the same ma’am,” Beverly chimed in. “They are obviously still in love, no matter what he’s said in the past.”

  Elise could feel her lower lip begin to quiver and she pressed them together. She didn’t want to go into detail with her grandmother, but she had to know the situation was hopeless. “He thinks I’ve been with another man.”

  “Didn’t Ren tell him what you and your maid concluded?”

  “It doesn’t matter, Grandmother,” Elise whispered, unable to look at her and feeling the familiar knot begin to rise in her throat, the one that usually preceded her tears. “This was before the Whippleworth’s masque.”

  Elise watched as her meaning became clear to her grandmother. The older woman’s wrinkled brow rose with concern and her gray eyes widened. “What made him think this?”

  “If I tell you, will you promise not to tell Ren or Lia? I could never live with myself if my brother died in a duel, leaving Marcus with no father, and Lia with no husband.” Only when her grandmother promised did she begin. Elise had not yet finished when they both heard the door to her bedroom open.

  Lia entered her sitting room with her embroidery, to work on baby linens, while Elise and Beverly worked on cradle bedding. Her sister-in-law looked from one to the other, realizing she’d interrupted a conversation. “Shall I leave the room so you can finish?”

  Elise’s grandmother looked at her and said, “Why haven’t you come to us with this before now? We could have taken care of it without your brother learning of it.”

  “What are we keeping from my husband now?” Lia asked.

  Elise’s story came pouring out of her again, this time with a remarkable amount of control over her emotions. She told them both the reason for the estrangement from Michael in London and her animosity toward him now. She did not hide her shameful part in the tryst—the fact that she had gone to him. She then confessed her fear of a duel, and her unwillingness to see him. “I’m afraid that he is feeling pity for me, or doing this to prevent gossip, as it might affect him or his legal practice. Or perhaps he’s doing it out of loyalty to my brother.” Elise wiped her eyes and blew her nose again. “But I am certain it is not because he loves me.

  The four of them sat quietly for a while as her grandmother and sister-in-law digested her tale. Elise and Beverly exchanged worried glances, then Elise heaved a trembling sigh when she realized there were no more tears. It felt
good to have shared the weight of this burden with the women she loved most. And it didn’t appear—at least not yet—that they were horrified at her pronouncement.

  Her grandmother set aside her stitching and lifted her cane. “That scoundrel! He needs to hear a piece of this old lady’s mind.” She rose slowly, her joints aching more in recent days. “Elise, get that no-good rapscallion and tell him to gets in here.” Elise looked to Lia who nodded, then back at her grandmother. The woman waved her hand at her in a shooing fashion and added, “Then the two of you go to the barn or something.”

  Elise did as she was told, not meeting Michael’s gaze when she opened the door. “You’re presence is requested in my sitting room,” was all she said as Michael crossed the threshold into her rooms. Elise motioned through the door at the left, and stepped out of his reach when he put a hand out for her. Beverly excused herself and went to her old room, she said, to write a letter to Christopher.

  Taking her pelisse from the footman, Elise threw it over her shoulders and walked out the front doors and began to walk across the expansive lawn with no particular destination in mind. Not dressed for a ride, nor a long walk, she turned towards the Summer House. She loved going there to read, though hadn’t done so in months. Not since before she went to London for her season. The one that started with such promise and ended so disastrously.

  At least Beverly would have love. She and Lord Huddleston seemed to have found true happiness in each other’s company. For that she could be thankful. And although she’d always wanted children of her own, she would just have to be satisfied being an aunt to Lia and Beverly’s children, and one day even Sarah and Lucky’s.

  She bypassed the Summer House and went down to the lake, and sat on her swing. The one she begged her father for when she was a child. He’d had the swing installed, but Elise could never recall a time when he pushed her on it.

  In fact, she could not remember anyone ever pushing her on the swing. Sarah and Lucky enjoyed being pushed, so Elise couldn’t wait for Marcus to get big enough so she could push him. She could imagine the smiles on his face now. And later, her new niece or nephew....

  She heard footsteps behind her and turned to see who it was coming toward her, though she really didn’t need to. Her heart told her who’s footfall came down the gently sloping hill toward the lake. For a moment she considered dropping her pelisse and climbing into the tree, but he’d only come after her. Elise had to, for her sanity’s sake, make it clear to him that she wanted no future with him. She wanted him to go away and let her get on with her life.

  He stopped some feet away and they locked gazes. She fought tears and lowered hers, speaking first. “I am begging you Michael, to leave here and let me be. I have promised I will never bother you again, and I shall keep that promise. Go. Find a bride and get to work on your nursery.”

  He moved closer still, holding the ropes above her hands. “The woman I want to marry is right here, and there is no other that I want as the mother of my children.”

  His nearness caused her choke on her words. “I will not... I cannot marry you, Michael.”

  “Why not, when it has been your dream since you were ten?” His voice was not accusatory, but more inquisitive and gentle. As though he spoke to someone fragile.

  She tried to control her emotion, to remain calm, but she still trembled as she spoke. “That dream turned into a nightmare. One of my own creation. I will forever regret the harm I have done to you, for all these years of thinking myself in love with you.”

  “Your animosity and disaffection are warranted. I have broken your heart and treated you abominably. But, minx, if you let me, we can....” His sympathetic tone and gentle stroking of her head made her feel pitied, and that was the last thing she wanted from this man.

  “Don’t call me that,” she hissed. “Never, ever call me that! That was a name given to me by a man I thought had an intimate affection for me in his heart. We will never share that kind of intimacy again.”

  “We can if you will let me apologize, Elise.”

  Elise tried to stand, but he stood in front of her, effectively keeping her on her swing. “We can do nothing, Michael. Go home. I will not marry you.”

  He got down on his knees before her and held the swing steady, keeping her prisoner on the seat. Since she would not look at him while he stood, he looked up at her from his position at her knees. “I am sorry for everything I said... everything I did... that night you came to me. I don’t know why I let the memories of my uncle’s drunken ramblings cloud what I knew to be true in my heart.”

  “This coming from the man who deals in facts and evidence on a daily basis?”

  He dropped his head to her lap. “I deserve that.”

  “Yes. You do.”

  He turned to look up at her again, his hazel eyes full of the love she’d always wanted from him. “I was an ass. An ass who also feels responsible for what happened the other night. Because of what I said, because of what I did, I sent you into the arms of someone who harmed you.”

  She didn’t want his pity! Elise tried to shove him away and rise, but he held her down on the swing. “Oh, so you come to me to ease your guilt now? Leave me, Michael. Go away!”

  “No. I come to you because I love you.”

  “You don’t know what love is.” She lashed out at him. Angry that he thought pretty words would buy his way back into her good graces. “Loyalty, for certain. Devotion, maybe. But not love.”

  “I don’t care if you believe me or not,” he argued. “I want to marry you because I was never more afraid in my entire life than I was that night Sinclair and Marlowe stole you away. I was afraid I would never see your smile again. Never hear your voice.”

  He rested his head in her lap again, and Elise thought she felt him shudder, which caused her damn to burst. “I love you,” he whispered, his cracking voice raw with emotion. “If you refuse to marry me, then the title dies with me because I will never marry another.”

  She tried to get him to see reason. Using the same tone of voice she used when trying to convince someone of the rightness of an idea she said, “You might love me, but you don’t trust me, Michael. In the back of your mind you will always wonder if another came before you. Then you’ll wonder who he was. And that type of obsessive and possessive thinking will eat at you and our marriage until we will no longer be able to stand each other—even if I did bear your heirs. Jealousy isn’t something you can just will away.”

  “It is, Elise. I knew I was wrong as I watched you ride off with Attila. I tried to tell you this the next day but couldn’t find the words. I had planned to apologize again at Whippleworth’s, while we waltzed. On my honor Elise, I am telling you the truth. I had planned to ask you to marry me again while we danced to the same piece we danced to at Beverly’s ball. It is why your grandmother encouraged you to go. She knew this, Elise. I swear it.” He wiped her eyes with a kerchief as he stared up at her. “Please don’t cry anymore. Tell me you accept my apology. Tell me that you will marry me. If you will, I promise each day I will wake determined to prove my love for you.”

  “Why Michael? Why do you want me now?”

  “Because I cannot live without you, Elise.” He read the uncertainty on her face. He was winning her over, he could tell. But still, something held her back.

  He wasn’t so proud he wouldn’t use every argument at his disposal either. He’d given this considerable thought, not knowing how she might react, and said, “Have you considered that you might be carrying our babe?” Her eyes widened in surprise and he added, “It is a possibility, Elise.”

  Michael could tell it wasn’t something she’d considered because the expression that crossed her face just then was unpracticed and unseasoned. She could never have prepared that look.

  “If I am, what makes you think it’s yours?” she asked him.

  “My words and actions that night hurt you deeply, and I deserve your backlash,” he offered humbly. “But I also know that you
have never attempted to deceive me in the past and I had no right—none at all—to assume you would. Your faith that I would one day return your affections never, ever wavered. That is how I know for certain if you are carrying, it is my child. It could be no one else’s.

  “I do not deserve your love after what I did, but I promise to try every day to win it back. But I can only do that if you marry me.” When he got no reply, he had to ask one last time before walking out of her life forever. “Elise, will you marry me?”

  She lifted her gaze from her hands resting in her lap, to meet his troubled hazel eyes. She smiled, relief visibly flowing through him. She nodded. “Only if you swear to me you will never again question my devotion to you.”

  “Never,” he whispered, placing his head on her lap again. “Never again.” Michael sighed deep and she could see the tension leaving his body, and she smiled.

  After Michael left the ladies in the sitting room to search out Elise, Lady Sewell shook her head and mumbled something Her Grace could not hear clearly. The duchess then asked if the older lady was well. To which she replied, “Men are all the same. Every single one fancies himself Captain Cook, wanting to be the first on virgin ground.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Because of the events at the Whippleworth’s ball, both Elise and Michael decided that their wedding should be a small, intimate affair with only family as witnesses. And seeing as it would take place in the country, with only family present, they both agreed sooner was better.

  “Tomorrow afternoon, you have everyone you need here,” he argued.

  “No. We will wait until your family arrives. There is no rush, Michael,” she countered.