by Teri Wilson
I won’t go on, because you’ve made your feelings for me—or rather, lack thereof—more than clear. Do not be alarmed. This is the last you will hear of my affection for you, and I vow never again to repeat the sentiments and offer of marriage which only hours ago were so disgusting to you.
I simply wanted to set the record straight and apologize for proposing an arrangement that obviously pained you to even consider.
—D. Darcy
Elizabeth looked down at the ink-stained pages, but the words were lost behind the veil of her tears.
What have I done?
* * *
“Mr. Darcy, sir.”
Donovan sat at his desk in his office with his back to the door, ignoring Lawrence. And the window. The sight of the Barrows’ townhome was too much for him to bear.
He hadn’t laid eyes on Elizabeth since that night over a week ago in the formal gardens. After he’d stormed back into the ballroom to ensure Grant Markham had been sent packing and tell a gaping Aunt Constance to mind her own damned business, he’d returned to his quarters to find her gone. Bliss as well, which had left him with no hope of Elizabeth’s return.
“Mr. Darcy?” Lawrence repeated.
“Yes?” he said, to the wall more than to his butler.
“You have a visitor.” Lawrence rushed to add, “Mr. Robson, sir.”
He needn’t have hurried to announce Henry’s name. Donovan had all but given up on the notion of Elizabeth coming to him. She’d made her opinion of him abundantly clear when she’d turned down his marriage proposal.
“Send him in,” Donovan said absently.
He took a pained breath and steeled himself to face Henry. As much as he cared about his friend, Donovan had gone to great pains to avoid Henry since the announcement of his engagement to one Jenna Scott.
It was a cruel irony—Henry and Jenna had become engaged the night of the ball at Chadwicke. The same night he’d asked Elizabeth to become his wife. Donovan found it most profoundly imbalanced.
He spun his chair around and fixed his gaze on the puppy pen. The four pups were getting so big. Figgy no longer spent all day with them. They were fat, happy and fully weaned. At present, the little scamps were wrestling over a fleece toy shaped like one of London’s red city buses—a gift Elizabeth had picked up for them at Harrods Pet Kingdom. Pudding appeared to be on the verge of winning the battle.
The sight of the puppy’s sprinkling of freckles gave new life to the ache in Donovan’s gut. He averted his eyes just as Henry walked in.
“Blimey.” He frowned. Henry rarely frowned, so on the rare occasion he did, it tended to make an impression. “You look like shite.”
Donovan scrubbed his hands over his face. “I haven’t slept much.”
An understatement, to be sure. At Chadwicke, he couldn’t even bring himself to go near the bed. It had reminded him too much of Elizabeth. He’d spent a single, sleepless night there before returning to London, where Elizabeth had never been anywhere near his bedroom. As it turned out, it wasn’t the sheets, the walls or the furnishings that were haunted by the memory of her. It was his heart. And his heart still refused to rest.
Sometimes Donovan wondered how far he would have to travel to escape the memory of her. Or if such a place even existed.
“Well, your lack of sleep shows.” Still frowning, Henry sank in one of the chairs opposite Donovan.
“Thank you,” he ground out.
“You’re welcome.” Henry lifted a brow. “You still haven’t heard from her, have you?”
“No, I haven’t.”
Henry leaned forward, with his elbows on the edge of Donovan’s desk. “What exactly happened between the two of you? I can’t even pry the details out of my darling fiancée. She just tells me not to worry...that it will sort itself out.”
Sort itself out?
Not bloody likely.
If Jenna thought what had transpired between Elizabeth and himself was that simple, she was even more of an optimist than Henry. The two of them were obviously perfect for one another.
Donovan leveled his gaze at Henry. “I wouldn’t count on it sorting itself out.”
Henry winced. “I feel responsible. My sister did her best to rip the two of you apart with her bare hands. I should have seen it coming, I suppose. I apologize.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” Donovan meant it. To think Henry, or anyone, for that matter, could have controlled Helena even for a minute was laughable.
“I know.” Henry smiled, finally. But the grin was gone as quickly as it appeared. “I’m still sorry. I know how you felt about her.”
“Feel,” Donovan snapped.
“I stand corrected.” Henry’s voice softened. “Feel. I know how you feel about her. So, what went wrong?”
Donovan closed his eyes and saw Elizabeth, her bare shoulders caressed by the moonlight, that captivating gown she’d worn fluttering in the night breeze. Then he saw himself dropping to one knee....
He opened his eyes. “I asked her to marry me.”
Henry froze for a moment. It was obvious he’d never considered the possibility that he hadn’t been the only one to propose recently. He blinked a few times before recovering. “That’s quite a surprise. To be honest, I’ve never thought of you as the marrying type. I am, of course. Always have been.” He let out a self-deprecating laugh. “But you?”
Donovan shrugged. “People change.”
Because love changes them.
Henry furrowed his brow. “When did this happen?”
“At Chadwicke. The night of the ball.” The same day they’d made love, which made it both the best day of Donovan’s life and the worst, all at once. Of course, it was also the same night Henry and Jenna had become engaged.
Henry didn’t bring up that little coincidence. Thank God. “I imagine that wasn’t the best timing, what with Markham showing up.”
“So I’ve learned.” The dull pain in Donovan’s head, which had become his constant companion of late, throbbed. “Her answer was an unequivocal no.”
He’d botched it, of course. He’d realized as much even before her fleeing form had disappeared from view. He should have told her he loved her from the very beginning, not the end.
Which was why he’d written the letter. Not that it had helped matters. In it, he’d wielded his love as if it were a weapon. He’d been so proud of his feelings. He’d boasted about his love for her as if it made him superior to her in some way.
It was that very pride that made him act in exactly the way Elizabeth feared.
“You’re not giving up.” It was a statement, rather than a question. “I’ve never known Donovan Darcy to give up when he set his mind to something.”
“Henry, she doesn’t love me.”
There was a prolonged moment of silence.
Finally, Henry spoke. “You sure about that?”
Donovan’s gut ached. Must they revisit this? “She told me as much.”
“And you believe her?”
“Yes.” And no.
Donovan swallowed.
He considered telling Henry about the letter he’d written in the heated aftermath of the proposal. He thought it best not to mention it, seeing as the fact that Elizabeth had yet to even acknowledge it only added insult to injury.
As if Henry could read his mind, he leveled his gaze at Donovan and said, “I know about the letter.”
Donovan ground his teeth together. So this was how it was going to be now that Henry and Jenna were engaged? No secrets? Even worse, were he and Elizabeth destined to have their lives intertwined simply because her sister was marrying his best friend?
Donovan couldn’t imagine the agony of standing alongside Elizabeth in a church on Henry and Jenna’s wedding day...a day that should have
been theirs. The very idea filled him with fresh indignation.
“I suppose the contents of the letter turned up in the Daily Mail?” Donovan asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Relax.” Henry held up his hands. “I know nothing about the contents. Jenna simply told me you asked her to carry a letter for Elizabeth back to London.”
Donovan lifted a brow. “If you know about the letter, then surely you know I’ve received no response.”
But did he blame her? It wasn’t as though he’d repeated his offer of marriage. In fact, he’d gone out of his way to revoke it. Permanently. If memory served, he’d even vowed never to ask her to marry him again.
Henry frowned. “None whatsoever?”
“None.” He slammed the diary closed on his desk. The diary was of little use to him now. It was full of meaningless appointments over the course of the following days. Appointments he intended to miss. “It’s of no consequence. The matter is over.”
“Jenna says—”
Donovan held up a hand. “I’ve no interest in what Jenna says when Elizabeth herself has already spoken volumes on the subject. She doesn’t love me, and she certainly doesn’t want to marry me. Case closed. Like I said, it’s over.”
“Over? Just like that?” Henry didn’t believe him. That much was clear.
“Yes.” Donovan nodded with great resolution. “Over.”
He’d left out the most crucial bit of information. But that was for no one to know but Donovan alone. Part of him wished he could tell Henry the whole truth, but his friend’s upcoming marriage to Jenna made such candidness impossible.
By tomorrow Donovan would be gone. Thousands of miles away from Elizabeth Scott.
He was leaving.
On the first plane out of Heathrow.
24
Donovan was gone.
No one had advised Elizabeth that he’d left the city. Not even the Daily Mail. Since delivering Donovan’s letter, Jenna had kept altogether mum on the subject of Donovan Darcy. The few times Elizabeth had seen Henry, he’d been remarkably quiet and low-key. Elizabeth got the sense the newly engaged couple was tiptoeing around her, afraid to rock the boat any further. If she’d been able to bring herself to talk about Donovan, she would have told them to save the trouble. The boat was beyond rocking. She and Donovan had all but capsized and dropped to the bottom of the ocean.
Jenna and Henry may have been keeping Donovan’s sudden disappearance under wraps, but it was far from necessary. She could feel the absence of his presence as if the vacuum he’d left behind resided squarely in the center of her heart rather than in the townhome across the street.
Unless Jenna had spilled the beans, Sue Barrow still had no idea what had transpired during the weekend at Chadwicke and, from all appearances, was afraid to ask, choosing instead to minister to Elizabeth with copious amounts of peppermint tea and biscuits. She was also generous with the amount of time she allowed Elizabeth to groom the Border terriers. Hand stripping the dogs had taken on an almost therapeutic quality, and since returning from the country, Elizabeth had spent hours upon hours with Violet, Hyacinth, Daisy and Rose propped up on their grooming table. Using the upcoming Earl’s Court Annual Dog Show as an excuse, she plucked the poor dogs within an inch of their lives.
Jenna’s silence on the subject of Donovan had begun the instant she found Elizabeth clutching the letter—that perplexing letter!—and crying into Bliss’s fur when she returned from a date with Henry on their first night back in London. For once Jenna seemed hesitant to offer any sisterly advice, which frightened Elizabeth nearly as much as it relieved her. It appeared she wasn’t the only one at a loss as to how to respond to the letter.
Elizabeth could think of little else.
She could almost recite the letter by heart. She studied every sentence, and her feelings toward its writer were at times widely different. While he made no secret of the fact that he was indeed very much in love with her, regardless of her feelings for him, Donovan had by no means repeated his offer of marriage. Elizabeth was keenly aware of this fact. She couldn’t help but wonder why he was so insistent upon letting her know the validity of his feelings when at the same time assuring her he had no intention of proposing to her again.
He loved her.
She’d almost come to accept it.
He loved her. And he thought she despised him. The end.
Sometimes the pull she felt from the townhome across the street was too much for her to bear. On those nights, Elizabeth would sit in the window seat, waiting for Donovan to appear in the moonlight as he’d done on the night she’d first arrived in London all those weeks ago. On the occasions he did step outside with Finneus weaving around his feet, Elizabeth had watched and waited with her heart in her throat and her breath fogging the window. But Donovan had never looked up. Not once.
And now he was gone.
So when Sue carried in the mail one afternoon and announced a letter had arrived for Elizabeth, she couldn’t help the desperate tug of hope she felt that it might possibly be from Donovan. Perhaps he’d written to tell her of his whereabouts. Or maybe he simply missed her. Wherever he was.
“You have a letter, dear,” Sue said, aiming an appraising look at Hyacinth up on the grooming table—again—as she bustled into the dog room.
“Oh?” Elizabeth’s hand shook with anticipation. Or dread, perhaps?
She lowered the grooming scissors before she did irreparable damage to Hyacinth’s coat. Their next show was in three short days.
Jenna and Sue exchanged worried glances, leading Elizabeth to believe that Sue did, in fact, know about what had transpired between her and Donovan, the vexing letter included. She tried to muster up at least a morsel of indignation at the thought of Jenna and Sue whispering about her behind her back. But she just didn’t have the energy for it.
“Here.” Sue held out an envelope.
The envelope indeed looked familiar. But the return address on the thick parchment didn’t bear the Darcy name.
Elizabeth looked up at Jenna. “It’s from the Barclay School.”
She lifted her brows in obvious surprise. “Really?”
“Yes.” Elizabeth stared at the envelope, confused. “What could they possibly want?”
“You’ll never know, dear, unless you open it.” Sue gathered Hyacinth in her arms and lifted her off the grooming table. “Come with Mummy. I think you’ve had enough for one day.”
Bliss scrambled up from her nap underneath the grooming table and followed Sue and Hyacinth out the door, likely in hopes of a romp out in the garden. A flicker of guilt washed over Elizabeth. She’d been remiss in walking the poor Cavalier lately, afraid she’d run into Donovan. What would she say? What would he say?
She took a deep breath. None of that mattered anymore.
“Lizzy?” Jenna reached out and touched her arm. “Are you going to open it?”
“Oh.” Elizabeth ran her thumb over the creamy envelope resting unopened in her hand. “Yes. Yes, of course.”
She broke the seal and slid out a single sheet of paper.
Just like last time, she mused. Only now, her movements weren’t propelled by fear as they were before. They’d already fired her. Grant Markham had already made good on his promise to exact his revenge. With the utmost effectiveness. What more could he possibly do?
She was perplexed more than anything as she unfolded the letter.
“Read it out loud,” Jenna said. “And hurry. The suspense is killing me.”
“Okay.” Elizabeth cleared her throat. “Here goes...
“Dear Miss Scott,
It has come to our attention that we were remiss in our termination of your employment. After further investigation, the board of directors has come to the conclusion that you are guilty of no wrongdoing.
Please accept our sincerest apologies for any suffering this matter has caused you. Should you decide to return to the Barclay School, we will find a place for you in the classroom at once.
It is our sincerest hope that you will choose to return at your earliest possible convenience. To that end, please expect a phone call from Dr. Thurston in the coming days with an offer of extended employment and a generous salary increase.
Again, our earnest and heartfelt regret at the manner in which this matter was handled cannot be emphasized.
Sincerely,
The Board of Directors
The Barclay School”
The now-familiar, large swirling signature of Mrs. Grant Markham immediately followed. Elizabeth stared at it, almost unable to believe it was real.
“Oh, my God.” Jenna snatched the letter from her hand. “Oh, my God,” she repeated, seemingly at a loss for anything else to say.
Elizabeth was rendered speechless. She gripped the arm of the sofa and sank into its cushions, her heart beating wildly as she tried to take it all in.
The Barclay School wanted her back.
They’d admitted right there in black and white that she was innocent.
They’d apologized.
It was everything Elizabeth had ever dreamed of, but hadn’t once allowed herself to hope for.
“Lizzy!” Jenna squealed, clutching the letter and gathering Elizabeth in a tight hug. “Do you realize what this means?”
Elizabeth shook her head, not sure of anything anymore. The world had been tipped upside down.
“This means you can go home,” Jenna whispered, with unshed tears shimmering in her eyes.
Home.
Elizabeth nodded mutely.
“You should come home with me this weekend. We can fly back together.” Jenna gave both Elizabeth’s hands a squeeze.
A large, emerald-cut engagement ring glittered on Jenna’s ring finger. It had appeared there less than a day after the engagement announcement. Elizabeth didn’t know if Henry had presented her with the ring when he proposed or if they’d chosen it together.