“Oh?” His lips trailed along the line of her jaw.
Her eyes drifted closed and she sighed with the pleasure of his touch. “You needn’t vanish from my life after Christmas.”
“How magnanimous of you.” His lips whispered against her neck.
“Well?”
“I have no intention of vanishing from your life ever, as I intend to be your husband.”
She groaned to herself, summoned all her willpower, and pushed out of his arms. “Why do you persist in this?”
“Why do you refuse to so much as consider it?”
“Because I prefer—”
“Yes, yes, you quite like your independence, running your own life, making your own decisions and so on and so forth. I’ve heard it before, and indeed, although you may think otherwise, I do appreciate your concerns. But I would hope that marriage, or marriage between the two of us, would not necessarily mean that you change your character. I am proposing that our marriage be a partnership of sorts, remember? I have no desire to lock you in a dungeon, keep you for my own pleasure.” He paused. “Although that could be a great deal of fun.”
“For one of us.”
“Why do you refuse to understand?” His brows drew together in frustration. “Your independent nature, your self-reliance, your intelligence are exactly the attributes that I find so irresistible. I have no desire to change any of that.”
“Then why change the very lovely arrangement we could have for as long as we both wish? Why muck it up with marriage?”
“I want to muck it up with marriage.”
She raised a brow.
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” He shook his head. “I’ve never given much consideration to marriage, but now I find I want it and all it entails. Family, children, and whatever else comes along. And I want it with you. Only you. I want you as my wife and my lover and, God help us both, my partner.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her back into his arms. “Now and when we are both old and doddering.”
She stared up at him. It would be so easy to give in and agree to marriage and anything else he wanted. At this very moment, it seemed that life and a future with Nicholas would be nothing short of perfect. But she had had perfect, and it had proved to be nothing more than an illusion.
She pulled out of his embrace and moved away. “Some things were not meant to be, Nicholas.”
“And some things were.” He stepped toward her. “Damn it all, Elizabeth, I was a fool a decade ago, need I pay for it for the rest of my days?”
“Pay for it?”
“I made a mistake ten years ago and now I want to rectify it.”
“I am not a mistake to be rectified.”
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
“How did you mean it?”
“I don’t know!” He huffed. “I’m not entirely sure what I do or do not know when I am around you. I am not used to having good, solid offers refused. It’s extremely disconcerting.” He narrowed his gaze. “Most women would jump at the opportunity to marry me, you know. I am wealthy, knighted, and will inherit a respectable title.” He stretched his arms in a wide, helpless gesture. “What in the name of all that’s holy is wrong with me?”
“Not a thing,” she murmured. Especially not when dressed as a pirate. She thrust the thought, and the accompanying rush of hot desire, out of her mind.
“Then we need to discuss this rationally.”
“Can we?” Was there anything more ridiculous than discussing the subject of marriage with a knight dressed like a pirate? “It’s not a business proposition, it’s marriage, and it’s fraught with emotion.”
“Nonetheless, it can be considered in a rational manner.”
She bit back a smile. “Benefits versus disadvantages? That sort of thing?”
“Exactly.” He clasped his hands behind his back and paced an erratic course around the overstuffed room. “You told me you do not trust me and you do not trust the institution of marriage. I can certainly understand the first part.” He glanced at her curiously. “Or have I recovered your trust yet?”
“No.” Even as she said the word she knew it wasn’t entirely true. How could one not trust a man willing to dress like a pirate and pad his newel post with a pillow for the benefit of one’s children? After all, there were far easier ways for a wealthy man to entertain children than by playing with them himself.
“I can accept that for the moment. Very well, I shall have to earn your trust.” He studied her curiously. “Now, why don’t you trust marriage itself?”
She considered the question. How could she tell Nicholas, of all people, about the imperfections of her marriage? That she had apparently not been enough to make Charles happy. That they had not shared what her brother had called a grand passion. That her husband might well have found that with another woman.
Still, once, long ago, Nicholas had been the only person in her life outside of her family to understand she was more than she’d appeared. She’d trusted him with the truth of her own nature then. The first step toward trusting him today might well be trusting him with the past. Perhaps it was the warmth she’d already found in his arms or his unexpected kindness to her sons or the way he made her laugh in spite of herself, but at this very moment, she wasn’t especially adverse to taking that first step.
“Charles had a mistress,” she said simply.
Surprise flashed across his face. “I find that difficult to believe.”
“No more so than I,” she said wryly. “I frankly had no idea.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. “Oh, there’s no question.”
“Did you tell Charles of your suspicions?” he said slowly.
“They were not mere suspicions, Nicholas.” She drew a deep breath. The only other person she’d ever told of Charles’s infidelity was Jules, and that had been in the immediate wake of Charles’s death. Revealing this secret to Nicholas now was far more difficult. “Charles was rather sentimental, and he’d saved this woman’s letters. Silly of him, really, and I’ve often wondered if he didn’t want me to find them.”
“And you did find them,” Nicholas prompted.
“A few days before his death, actually.”
“What did Charles say?”
“Nothing.” She shrugged. “I never had the opportunity to confront him. I was a bit of a coward about it.” She paused to gather her thoughts. “The problem with discovering your husband is unfaithful is the myriad of emotions such a discovery unleashes. I was furious, of course.”
He nodded. “Understandably.”
“And hurt. There was an overwhelming sense of betrayal.”
“Yes, of course, there would be.”
“Followed by a certain amount of guilt.”
“Guilt?” His brow furrowed. “But you said you hadn’t had a chance to tell him.”
“Not his.” She laughed wryly, rather pleased to note she could now see the irony, even the humor, in it. “Mine.”
“Nonsense,” he said firmly. “You had no reason to feel guilty. You did nothing wrong.”
“Didn’t I? I’m not entirely sure of that.” She ran her finger idly along the edge of a large, round brass tray balanced on a carved horn base. “I had never questioned the, well, perfection of our life together. I had always thought we were both content with our lives. Obviously, when it came to Charles, at least, I was wrong.”
“Charles was a fool,” Nicholas said quietly.
“Was he? I don’t really know.” She shook her head. “I don’t doubt that he always loved me, but perhaps the kind of love we shared was not,” she thought for a moment, “enough, I think. My brother talks about a grand passion.”
“A grand madness,” Nicholas murmured.
“One and the same, no doubt.” She looked at him. “I do wonder if that grand passion, or madness, is what Charles found with this other woman. What he had with her was apparently quite intense and, well,” she sighed, “lasting. At least according to her letters.”
“Do you know who she was?”
“She signed her letters with nothing more than a term of endearment. I have no idea who she was. It’s nothing more than morbid curiosity on my part, mind you, but I would rather like to know her name. It scarcely matters now, of course. Still, I do wonder if knowing who she was might be the one thing that would write ‘the end’ on the last page of the final chapter of the book of our marriage. It’s an odd idea, I know, but she was such an important part of his life.” It was surprisingly easy after all to talk to Nicholas about this. As easy as it had once been to talk to him about anything. She drew a deep breath. “The letters span nearly four years.”
“Four years?” He stared in disbelief. “But that’s—”
“More than half the length of my marriage.” She shrugged. “That was perhaps more shocking than anything else.”
He studied her for a moment. “You seem to have accepted it rather well.”
“Now, I have. It has been three years, after all.” Elizabeth uttered a short, disparaging laugh. “You needn’t look at me like that. I’m not a saint.”
“I never suspected sainthood,” he said with a slight smile. “Hence my surprise that you are not still angry with him.”
“Life continues, and one must continue with it.” She heaved a resigned sigh. “I was too shocked to do anything at first, and Charles was dead a scant two days later. I never had the opportunity to confront him. I very much regret that, so much between us remains unsaid and unsettled, but it may have been for the best.”
“Why?”
“This woman might well have been the grand love of his life, his grand passion. I’m not sure if, at the time, I could have understood that, let alone accepted it. I know I was loved by him as well, if not in the same way, and I probably couldn’t have accepted that either. The passage of time has allowed a certain amount of perspective. I think now I might well have been his dearest friend rather than his greatest love. Pity we did not realize the love we shared, the comfortable sort of undemanding love we had known since childhood, was not, in the end, enough.”
His gaze met hers. “For either of you?”
She raised her chin slightly and realized that what she was about to say was an admission she could not take back. “Perhaps.”
“Perhaps it is not too late.” He drew a deep breath. “For a grand passion.”
Her heart thudded in her chest. “Or a grand madness.”
“The best kind of madness.” He stepped toward her. “I would be faithful to you, Elizabeth.”
“Would you?”
“In this at least you can trust me.” He paused. “In point of fact, I have been faithful to you. Always.” The sincerity of his manner clashed with the absurdity of his apparel and his words.
“What?” She snorted in disbelief. “Oh, come now, Nicholas. Surely you cannot expect me to believe you have not been with another woman for ten years? You’ve admitted to other women in your life.”
“But not in my heart,” he said staunchly. “I have been faithful to you in my heart, in my soul.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s easy to be faithful in one’s heart and soul when one’s trousers are down around one’s ankles.”
“Nonetheless, I have never loved another woman the way I love you,” he said staunchly.
She stared. “You love me?”
“I always have.”
Her heart leapt and it was all she could do to keep from throwing herself into his arms. Caution shoved the impulse firmly aside.
“Are you certain you are not confusing love with lust? The desire for another ship or a fruit tart?”
“Absolutely not.” Indignation sounded in his voice. “I love you now and I loved you then and I am fairly certain I never stopped loving you. It’s different, of course, as we are both different now than we were then, but it’s love nonetheless.”
Love had not entered into their relationship thus far, and she’d spent so long telling herself she hadn’t loved him that his admission and her own reaction bore further scrutiny before she acted in any way at all.
“Really?” She narrowed her gaze. “Yet you allowed me—no, you made certain I would marry Charles.”
“I thought it was for the best. I thought, as did everyone else, I might add, you and Charles were meant to be together. I thought he would make you happy.”
“I was happy. I lived a pleasant, uncomplicated, comfortable life in which all of the decisions regarding that life were made for me. A perfect life in which happiness and, indeed, perfection itself was an illusion.”
“When you describe it that way,” he said uneasily.
She moved closer and stared up into his dark eyes. “And what would I have had with you?”
Indecision flashed in his eyes, and he blew a long breath. “I don’t know.”
“And now?”
“Everything.”
She shook her head. “I have become too independent and used to handling my life on my terms. You are too stubborn and too used to getting your own way. We would drive one another mad.”
He smiled slowly. “Ah, but what a grand madness it will be.”
Her smile matched his. “Reopen my accounts and I will consider marriage.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think that would be especially wise.”
“Then we have nothing more to discuss today.” She reached up and kissed him. “Rather a pity I think, I have truly missed you.” He reached for her, but she danced away. “However, aside from your declaration of love, which I shall consider, by the way, I am intrigued by this whole question of trust. Can I indeed trust you?”
“Absolutely,” he said staunchly.
“My mother and the rest of my family will be at my house tomorrow at half past four.” She started toward the door. “As you have not seen fit to restore my accounts, I leave what they find entirely in your hands and trust that I will not be disappointed.”
“What?” He stared in confusion.
“Consider it a test. Of trust and faith.” She lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug. “Possibly even of love.”
“And if I pass?”
“The question, my dear Pirate King, isn’t so much what the prize is if you pass but what you lose if you fail.”
“I do not intend to lose.”
“Your confidence is impressive.”
He shrugged. “As well it should be.”
Something in his voice caught at her, and she paused to study him carefully. Even as she asked the question she was afraid of the answer. “Why?”
“It’s simple, my dear Elizabeth. It took a mere three years for you to forgive Charles for his transgressions. Even as enormous as they were it’s apparent you are no longer angry with him.”
“Yes?” she said cautiously, knowing almost before he said the words the truth of what he was about to say.
“Yet ten years have passed, and after all that time, you have just as obviously never forgiven me, nor has your anger with me eased significantly. It is most telling; whether you are as yet willing to admit it or not scarcely matters. Some things were very much meant to be, my dear Elizabeth.” A smug, knowing smile spread across his face, and he did look very much like a Pirate King. An annoying and practically irresistible Pirate King.
“And you and I are one of them.”
Chapter 15
“In truth, I am torn.” Elizabeth sipped her tea, her manner as casual as her tone. As if she were discussing nothing of any significance whatsoever.
“I’d be rather surprised if you weren’t,” Jules murmured.
The sisters stood side by side, surveying the ladies gathered in Elizabeth’s parlor, all at the moment seated clustered in chairs or standing together in groups of threes or fours or more. All engaged in the sort of animated conversation, punctuated liberally with delighted laughter and the occasional gasp of disbelief or surprise, that occurs when women who truly like one another are kept apart too long. Sharing the
latest news and, more importantly, hearing the latest gossip, both within the family and without, was an opportunity not to be missed. Everyone was here, of course: her mother and her mother’s sisters, Aunts Emma, Jocelyn, and Rebecca. Her father’s sister, Aunt Gillian, a great-aunt or two, and any number of cousins and second cousins. Between the aunts and the various and assorted other relations, it was an impressive showing of Effington females.
And while not a single lady present had failed to quirk a brow at the simple plates of fruited cakes and sugared biscuits Cook had frantically prepared since Elizabeth had discovered the state of her accounts yesterday afternoon, no one had actually commented aloud on the meager offering either, although she was fairly certain there were more than a few quiet observations and possibly some concern expressed as to her abilities as a hostess as well. The Effington ladies’ Christmas tea was traditionally a lavish affair with a friendly rivalry between relations as to who could produce the most delightful—and impressive—afternoon.
This year’s tea was decidedly understated. At least, thus far.
“Do you really think he will come to your aid? Rescue you from social disaster?” Jules studied her sister. “After all, it is already past five.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said without hesitation and noted with a small measure of surprise she truly meant her words. “I presented it as something of a test. A challenge of sorts. Nicholas is a man who can never turn away from a challenge.” And he claims to love me. To have loved me always.
“Still, he is merely a man. He might well think something like a ladies’ tea,” Jules nodded at the assembly, “to be relatively insignificant and not worth his effort.”
“Regardless, he wants the family to like him. Half of the family, indeed some might argue the half most difficult to please, is in this very room.”
“As far as I can recall, the family has liked him since he first came to live with Lord Thornecroft. Most of us anyway, and I have certainly changed my opinion.”
“Do lower your voice, Jules. I’d prefer not to have the details of my life as the primary topic of discussion among every female in the family.”
“You may well be too late.” Jules scoffed but lowered her voice nonetheless. “Every woman here is wondering why you have seen fit to offer nothing for tea but biscuits and cakes, and most are speculating on the reasons behind it. Some are certainly questioning the state of your finances, but Mother and her sisters suspect there is something far more interesting than mere money involved.”
A Visit from Sir Nicholas Page 23