by Maya Rodale
“Kingston, I have something to ask you as well.”
“Will you marry”—he started.
“Will you marry”—she started at the same time.
“Me,” he said.
“Miss Van Allen,” she said in a rush. “Will you marry Miss Van Allen? It’s the only way to fix everything.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Will you marry Miss Van Allen?”
Would he marry Miss Van Allen?
Kingston rubbed his jaw. Pushed his fingers through his hair. He was a bloody duke. One who was easy on the eyes and who knew how to bring her to dizzying heights of pleasure. He was a man who examined his entire life’s plans and centuries of tradition, because a woman challenged him to be better. Any woman should want to wed him. Or at the very least entertain his proposal.
Not request that he marry someone else entirely.
Why was this so damned hard?!
“Adeline—”
“Mrs. Van Allen and Madame Chalfont will ruin me otherwise,” she said, her voice cracking. He tried to make his heart start beating again, make his lungs draw breath, make his brain work. She was asking him to marry a woman he didn’t love. “Mrs. Van Allen is determined to ruin me; she believes I have ruined her daughter’s prospects with you.”
It was not entirely untrue.
“She has a willing ally in Madame Chalfont.”
Who previously fired Adeline because of him.
“Ladies and their dressmakers . . . talk.”
This was also true. They had capitalized upon it.
“Women will not wish to frequent my establishment if there is unsavory gossip about me and you. And especially if it suggests that I would steal their intended.”
This was, unfortunately, the way of the world.
Change the world, Duke.
Everything she said made painfully perfect sense. His urge to protect her, to save her, warred with his desire to be with her. Either way they won. Either way they lost.
“I need you to believe me, Kingston. I obtained the money for my shop by honorable means, but I have been sworn to secrecy. Even if I hadn’t, what does it matter? The lives of good women whom I employ depend upon the shop’s success. They are women who would have no other opportunities for an honorable and dignified life. And I like them. I am ready to sacrifice my happiness for theirs. If you care for me at all, you will do this for me.”
Kingston did believe her. Adeline had never disassembled and had never given him reason to doubt her word. He also loved her wholly and completely. As such, he knew that, had she entered into a liaison with Freddie or any man to achieve her dreams, he could not stop loving her. It would be a part of her and he loved all of her.
It was that simple.
And yet . . .
“Adeline. You do realize that you are asking me to sacrifice my happiness as well. I cannot help but think that if you loved me, you would never ask this of me.”
“What do you mean?”
He sighed and pulled the ring box out of his jacket pocket, opened it and presented her with an empty box. It was all part of the romantic proposal that was going horribly, horribly wrong. The musicians were still playing. People were watching them, murmuring as they anxiously awaited a kiss or some other signal that she had said yes.
Adeline looked up at him with her dark eyes full of questions.
“The ring in this box has been worn by generations of Kingston duchesses. I have sold it. I have taken the proceeds and invested it in Mr. Van Allen’s real-estate project. I am making arrangements to sell other things of value—smaller estates, works of art—so that I can invest them in other businesses. This is me symbolically trading the traditions of my past for the opportunities of the future. One that I had hoped we would share. I love you, Adeline. You have opened my eyes to a love and life that I have never thought possible. I may not be able to change the world, but with this ring I had hoped I could change the course of our lives so that we can marry for love. At least, that was the speech I was going to make. That was the question I was going to ask. But you wish otherwise.”
You don’t love me. She didn’t need to tell him in words, he understood.
She pulled a delicately embroidered lace handkerchief out of her pocket and dabbed at the tears welling up in her eyes. What does a woman need pockets for? For when they needed handkerchiefs because men made them cry, obviously.
He had imagined her saying yes.
He had not imagined this painful, extended silence. When she didn’t speak for the longest time—a painfully long time—he closed the box. A stupid, empty box for a stupid, empty gesture that was too little, too late.
He put it back in his pocket.
“I have booked passage back to England. My ship leaves on Tuesday. If you change your mind. If not . . .” Kingston did not have the words for a moment like this. A moment when he dared to say something of his feelings, when he dared to be something of the man he thought she wanted him to be. He was too aware of people watching them. He was too aware of the seconds and minutes passing. He was painfully aware that she didn’t say yes. She didn’t even say anything at all.
Eventually, he had to walk away. The musicians still played.
Just once he turned around and saw—in Central Park she sat down and cried.
Chapter Twenty-eight
No one saw this coming: that a handsome, charming duke would fail to make a match with one of New York’s dollar princesses. Or, indeed, any woman, if his failed proposal in Central Park is any indication. His ship departs this afternoon.
—The New York World
Tuesday afternoon
The Fifth Avenue Hotel
His ship was leaving at four o’clock this afternoon. His valet had already boarded, along with the duchess, his sisters, and all of their luggage. Dozens upon dozens of trunks stuffed with gowns, hats, trinkets, and the finest Saville Row tailoring had all been carefully packed up and transported from the hotel to the docks to their suite of rooms on the ship.
Kingston had declined Mrs. Whitney’s invitation to a ball and refused Freddie’s invitation for goodbye drinks at the club. They would be partners in crime no more. Instead, Kingston spent the previous evening walking aimlessly through the streets of New York, drinking in the sights, sounds, and lamentable smells; half hoping that he might turn a corner and run into Adeline. He spent the night alone. It was not how he ever imagined his last night in New York.
Now he was taking tea with Miss Harriet Burnett, the actual girl next door to his suite at the Fifth Avenue Hotel. It was the last thing he would do in New York. She was the last person he would see.
She had issued the invitation.
He had no reason to refuse.
And so they took tea in the restaurant adjacent to the lobby.
“Isn’t it interesting how in some circumstances, being seen with a man can wreck a woman’s reputation but in other circumstances, it can only enhance it?” Miss Burnett remarked, apropos of nothing, as she sipped her tea. “For example, if we were waltzing, I would be deemed more desirable because you took an interest in me. But if I were seen leaving your hotel rooms . . .”
She did not need to finish the sentence.
“Circumstances.”
“If I am seen taking tea with you, people will think I am vying for your hand in marriage. When in fact, I have no such intentions. If anything, I am trying to get you to wed another.”
He’d really had enough of women trying to marry him off to other women.
“Isn’t it a tad late for matchmaking? My ship leaves in a little over an hour.”
“Oh, it’s never too late for matchmaking,” Miss Burnett replied, as if they had all the time in the world together, when in fact, he urgently needed to get down to the docks.
“I have decided that I will marry only for love,” he said.
“What about your needs for an heiress and a fortune?”
“I am taking my chances with investments.”
/> She lifted her brow. “Is that so? How modern of you. Did you know that I also make investments?”
He raised one eyebrow, curious in spite of himself. “I’m not the only one. Hetty Green, for example, has made a veritable fortune on the stock market. I have taken a different track. For example, I invested some of my money in a dressmaking operation.”
Kingston straightened. Suddenly, Miss Burnett had his full, undivided attention. She knew it, judging by the smile on her lips and the sparkle in her gray eyes. She continued.
“Isn’t it such a sad commentary on the world that no one would think a woman had the funds, or interest or simple wherewithal to support her fellow womankind?”
“It is positively tragic,” he said, finally understanding fully. Why had he not seen this sooner? Why had not it occurred to him that a woman might have the means and inclination to help her fellow womankind? For whatever reasons, Adeline hadn’t been able to tell him this. But she shouldn’t have had to.
“It is sad and stupid and leads to hideous misunderstandings,” he said. “But what is a man to do?”
“One would think an apology is a good start.”
“At length. Repeatedly. I have tried that course of action.”
Miss Burnett pursed her lips. “My investment will soon be for naught, given some gossip that is about to spread like wildfire. All because a woman was seen with a duke in the wrong circumstances.”
“Are you going to ask me to wed Miss Van Allen as well? I thought I was clear that I shall marry only for love, or not at all.”
Miss Burnett dismissed him with a wave of her hand.
“I am suggesting that you wed Miss Black.”
“I proposed. She refused. My ship leaves in an hour.”
“Well, no wonder. If that is the extent of your love, then I shall have to proceed with my secondary plan.”
“And what is that?”
“I should hate for you to find out. It would mean you do not marry the woman you love.”
“Do I not get a say in the matter?”
“You can have all the ‘say’ you want, but I think it’s a conversation best had with Miss Black, don’t you think? I would think a dramatic declaration of your undying love would be the thing to do. Which you would know if you read dime novels.”
He glanced at the clock. He would have to leave shortly—within the next few seconds—if he had a prayer of getting to his ship before it sailed without him. If he took the time to propose again he could very well find himself refused, again, and stranded on this island while a ship with all his luggage was out on the Atlantic, enroute to England.
“If you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting to attend.” Miss Burnett dabbed her lips with a napkin. She stood and smoothed her skirts. “I suppose you must go as well, if you are going to catch your ship.”
And like that, she was gone.
Kingston remained seated with his gaze fixed firmly on the clock. It was a quarter of an hour before three o’clock.
If he left now . . .
He could catch his ship. He could sail back to England with his family and proceed with the plan he had concocted that involved sales and investments and business plans. He would have made some point about being the master of his own fate. He would have allowed Adeline and himself to sacrifice their happiness for others, without ever considering a secondary plan.
If he left now, he would have left the woman he loved to fend for herself against the gossips of the world. He would be leaving her to fight her battles alone, which she was fully capable of doing, but she shouldn’t have to. She should fight her battles with true love on her side.
Chapter Twenty-nine
At a recent meeting of the Audubon Society in Central Park, Miss Van Allen made a great show of releasing birds from gilded cages. She kept the key to their cages in the pocket of her dress.
—The New York World
The Ladies of Liberty Club
25 West Tenth Street
The duke would be leaving Manhattan at four o’clock this afternoon and returning to England. This was quite possibly one of the least important things that was happening today; nevertheless, it was the thing that occupied Adeline’s thoughts the most. It was not every day that a dashing duke sailed out of one’s life, bound for another continent.
Tuesday, that’s when.
Tuesday was also the day that the Ladies of Liberty club took their callers and today Adeline had NEWS. Such good news that it merited all capital letters. News that she was eager to share.
It was just such a pity that her day of triumph should be marred by the agonies of heartache and quite possibly regret. Seated among her fellow members of the Ladies of Liberty club, she sipped her tea and allowed one small sigh.
“How fares our favorite dressmaker’s establishment?” Miss Burnett inquired.
Adeline took a deep breath. “I have all sorts of good news to share. To start, I shall be able to return all the funds invested in me and the shop.”
The ladies burst into applause and good wishes and Adeline felt her cheeks flush with pride.
Lord Hewitt had come through to pay his outstanding bill for Lady Marian’s extensive wardrobe and that—along with all her other clients—had meant she’d earned enough to repay the club’s loan, with interest. It meant that everything she earned now was hers. It gave her a bone-deep satisfaction that she had never imagined.
But it brought another feeling, too: an awareness that it was hers and it was her honor and duty to nurture and protect it at all costs. She imagined this might be how Kingston felt about his dukedom, and this made her acutely aware of what he had risked to propose to her.
“There is more,” Adeline continued. “Margaret has had her baby, a healthy girl. Both mother and child are doing well. We are holding a position for Margaret, but even so I still have more positions to fill if we should learn of any young ladies in distress.”
“That is so good to hear, as unfortunately there are always more women who need the help and the opportunity of a decent position.”
It was her duty and honor to help whatever young women she could. Especially when she might soon be one of those ladies in distress, if Mrs. Van Allen and Madame Chalfont had their way.
“That is all splendid news! Congratulations to you, Miss Black.”
“I must thank you all for the opportunity.”
The ladies applauded again and that only made it more difficult for her to share the rest of the news.
The BAD NEWS.
So bad that it merited all capital letters. Adeline glanced nervously at Miss Burnett; they had spoken privately about this yesterday. It only seemed fair that her benefactor, fairy godmother, guardian angel—whatever one might call her—knew the desperate situation in which Adeline found herself.
She was on the verge of utter ruin.
And in the depths of utter despair.
“There is just one pesky matter,” Adeline said. “And by pesky I mean completely and utterly catastrophic. I fear it shall destroy everything.”
The ladies of the club erupted in murmurs.
“How dreadfully intriguing!”
“Do tell!”
“Mrs. Van Allen feels that I have ruined her daughter’s prospects with the Duke of Kingston.” There was no need to explain more; these women all read the newspapers and were well informed. “My former employer feels I have wronged her by leaving to establish my own shop and by taking her clients.”
Miss Burnett frowned and sipped her tea and glanced at the clock on the mantel.
“They are conspiring to ruin my reputation. I fear women will not want to be attired by a dressmaker of ill repute. I have done my best to stop the gossip, but I’m afraid my initial plan failed and I am at a loss as to how to save my shop.”
“What did you do?”
“Something very reasonable. I asked the duke to marry Miss Van Allen. It was the perfect plan. We all know that he had intended to wed her anyway. The marriage would
please Mrs. Van Allen, which would prevent her from attempting to destroy my shop—and ruining the livelihoods of the women I employ.”
“That is a perfect plan—”
“If one isn’t in love with him herself.”
“And how would that have addressed the concerns of your former employer?”
“I had hoped that she would have less cause for anger or at the very least that she would not have Mrs. Van Allen fueling it,” Adeline explained.
“The plan does make sense.”
“What went wrong?”
“What went wrong? The duke has a mind of his own and a notion of following his heart,” Adeline said. Her voice cracked. How embarrassing. “Just as I asked him to marry Miss Van Allen, he proposed to me instead.”
Adeline could almost still feel the warmth of the sunshine on her shoulders, could almost still hear the sweet song of the string quartet, though it was growing faint in her memory. What she remembered with heart-stopping clarity was the look of crushing disappointment on Kingston’s face. She had hurt him. She had made a mistake. Her best intentions were wrong.
“The duke proposed to you?” Miss Parks asked.
“In Central Park. Musicians were playing, people were picnicking and watching us.” Adeline confirmed. Her heart sank a little more at the memory. How humiliating it must have been for him. Yet, he had known she was not inclined to marriage and arranged the proposal anyway, which again demonstrated how much he was willing to risk for her. For their love. For their everlasting happiness.
Someone in the room sighed.
Adeline glanced at the clock. The minute hand continued with its steady march around, making reliable progress toward four o’clock. His ship might not yet have sailed, but her opportunity to tell him yes was long gone.
“It doesn’t matter. I have refused his proposal.”
“You refused the duke?”
Someone in the room took a sip of tea and sputtered and another woman choked on a crumpet.
“The tall, dark, handsome duke prone to displays of heroics who also staged a romantic public proposal in Central Park?”