Arthur’s hand came up to caress her cheek. “I do not deserve to have you in my life,” he murmured as his fingers entwined with her hair and his thumb traced her cheekbone. “You have brought light into my life where there was darkness. You have brought hope where all was lost. You have brought compassion where there was none. I have been so very foolish, Eliza,” he whispered.
Eliza’s breath caught in her throat as she gazed up into his eyes. Where once only friendship could be seen, she now found glimpses of need, desire, hunger, and… Could it be? Her mind whispered with hope as he leaned in and tenderly caressed her lips with his own. “You are an angel sent to me to save me from myself.” he murmured against her lips. “My sweet, sweet angel of hope and love. I love you, more than I thought it possible to love another.”
His lips came down upon hers once more, and Eliza raised her hands to thread them through his blonde hair, returning his kiss with innocent fervor. She had never kissed a man before and found the sensation to be irresistible. Arthur pulled her close encircling her in his embrace, and she became lost in the feel of his skin upon hers. Her mind grew foggy, and she lost all sense of time and place. I love you, her heart cried out in reply to his.
The sound of boots thudding upon the floor brought her to her senses, and she pulled back releasing her hold on his hair. She turned to find Duncan standing in the doorway, a range of emotions crossing his face. It was at that moment that she realized Duncan loved her just as she loved Arthur. She met his eyes in understanding, and they stood locked in each other’s gaze for some time. Arthur stirred uncomfortably beside her, but she did not look away.
It was important to her that Duncan knew that she cared, but that her heart always had and would always be Arthur’s, her knight of the night. After several moments, Duncan’s face changed one final time to that of acceptance and just a glimmer of happiness that his friend had finally found the love he had always wished for him. He nodded, smiled, winked his approval, then walked away. Not a word had been exchanged, but Eliza had heard his thoughts as clearly as if he had spoken them aloud.
I love you both enough to let you go. Be happy, my darling. Always.
Chapter 23
When Arthur and Eliza left with the children, Durton Manor felt as if it had been gutted and left to decay alone. Duncan roamed the halls and grounds perturbed by the silence he had once enjoyed. Durton had come alive filled with the people he loved most in all the world, and now they were gone leaving nothing but the memory of their presence.
Duncan knew he could have ridden with them to Rosenhill and stayed there for some time, but he had wanted to give them time to settle in and adjust to their new relationship with one another. When he had walked in on the moment of their first kiss, he had at first felt as if someone had ripped his heart from his chest and thrown it beneath the hooves of his horse. Eventually, that feeling had faded allowing him to share in the joy of his dearest friend and brother finally letting go of his father’s ghost and accepting love into his life.
Duncan had known from the beginning that Eliza would never be his. He had known from the moment he had seen them together that she had been born to love Arthur and Arthur alone. Duncan rubbed the pain in his chest acknowledging that it was brought about as much by loneliness as it was by his love for her. He had never known anyone her equal and could not have stopped himself from loving her any more than he could have ceased to breathe, but he had never expected anything to come of it.
The kiss had confirmed what he already knew and had sought for Arthur all along. Arthur has found his true love, but mine still awaits me. He knew from his grandmother’s many stories as a child that love struck more than once in most people’s lives. Arthur and Eliza were what she would have called fated lovers, two people God had seen fit to create for one another. His grandmother still practiced some of the old ways and was prone to interesting predictions concerning the future.
When he had last visited Ireland, she had grabbed his hand between her own and warned, ‘You will find your love when you least expect it, when all seems lost, and the world is at its darkest.’
Duncan wished his grandmother had met Eliza. He would have liked to have heard what she had to say about their current situation. “When all seems lost, and the world is at its darkest,” he murmured looking around him. “Well now seems like as good a time as any,” he remarked to the silence that surrounded him. When he did not receive a reply, he chuckled at his own foolishness.
As darkness descended across the land, he watched the colors of the sunset from his back garden. The earth fell silent around him, and then just as suddenly, the sights and sounds of the day were replaced by those of the night. A bat swooped down in front of him, and he smiled as it snatched its prey and flew away. Stars twinkled in the sky above as fireflies flickered in the fields below. He breathed in the cooling air and allowed it to act as a balm to his soul.
In the distance he could make out the sound of horses’ hooves upon the road and wondered briefly where they might be going, then dismissed it from his thoughts. He felt the dampness of the dew on his skin as it watered the earth around him. He searched the sky but found that the moon was absent hiding its light from the world.
His reverie was broken by Mr. White exiting the back door to the manor house and coming to stand beside him holding a lantern. “Your Grace?”
“Yes.”
“You have a guest, Your Grace. They claim to be from the Bow Street Runners of London,” Mr. White informed him.
“I have been expecting a letter. I never imagined they would send one of their men,” Duncan replied turning towards the house.
“They didn’t send one of their men, Your Grace,” Mr. White corrected.
“What do you mean?” Duncan asked for clarification. “You just said they claimed to be from the Runners.”
“He means I am not a man,” a voice called from the darkness as the shapely figure of a woman entered the lanterns light.
“Indeed not,” Duncan agreed. “I was unaware that the Bow Street Runners employed young ladies.”
“They do not. My father was a Runner and a close associate of Mr. Daniel Bolton,” the woman answered. “I received the letter posted from this address by His Grace Arthur Huntley, Duke of Rosenhill, and Mr. Bolton’s daughter, Miss Eliza Bolton. The letter instructed that all replies were to be made to this address in care of His Grace Duncan Colborne, Duke of Durton. I assume you are the latter.”
“Yes, I am. You are not quite the reply we were expecting. Nor did we expect one so soon,” Duncan replied, examining the woman from head to toe. She was tall, dark of hair and eye, much like Eliza in coloring. She wore a burgundy and black traveling frock and cloak with matching hat cocked to the side. Her eyes snapped with an intelligent light and a glint of amusement that bespoke the possibility for a keen sense of humor.
“Considering a post-boy can deliver the mail from Bath to London in two days, it was nothing to travel the short distance from London to your estate,” she stated, examining him in turn. “I set out the moment I received your letter.”
“I am impressed, Miss…?” Duncan paused to learn her name.
“Fielding, Emma Fielding,” she curtsied ever so slightly in introduction.
“As in Henry Fielding, the magistrate who founded the Bow Street Runners?” Duncan asked.
“Yes, he was family. Though I never met him. He died before I was born,” she answered.
“How is it that it is you who has come in reply instead of a letter or your father?” Duncan inquired uncertain why they would have sent a woman.
“My father is dead. Were he alive, he would have come immediately. No one knew Daniel Bolton better than my father, and before he died, he passed on the information he had kept to me in the event that Daniel’s daughter should ever seek to know more about her parents’ lives.” Duncan was struck by the matter of fact way in which she answered each of his questions. She did not seem to be the least bit intimidated
by him and met his eyes firmly and openly.
“I see,” Duncan nodded his head. “I am pleased that you have come and look forward to hearing what you have to reveal about Mr. Bolton’s past. The Duke of Rosenhill and Miss Bolton have returned to Rosenhill and will not be returning for some time. We will need to sojourn forth to Rosenhill to speak with them upon the morrow. Until then, I can have rooms prepared for you.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” Miss Fielding nodded her head in gratitude.
“Mr. White,” Duncan began.
“All will be ready in but moments, Your Grace,” Mr. White answered and returned to the house.
“Have you eaten anything?” Duncan asked.
“No, I did not take the time,” Miss Fielding admitted.
“Let us retire to the house and see what can be had. I believe the cook has not yet retired,” Duncan offered, motioning for her to join him.
Miss Fielding followed Duncan inside. Mr. White met them at the door, having finished giving the household staff Duncan’s orders. “Miss Fielding requires food and drink after her journey from London.”
“Yes, Your Grace. I have already notified the cook, and a repast will be provided in the library for you and Miss Fielding,” Mr. White informed him. “I was also asked by the head groom to inform Miss Fielding that her horse has been tended to as she instructed.”
Duncan smiled. Mr. White always knew what was required before ever being asked. “Good man,” he praised the butler, then escorted Miss Fielding into the library. “Please take a seat.” Duncan sat down opposite her. “You rode here from London on horseback unaccompanied?”
“Yes,” she replied. He could tell by the glint in her eye that she found his disbelief to be amusing.
“Yet, again you surprise me, Miss Fielding,” Duncan admitted. In many ways, she reminded him of Eliza.
“I surprise many people. It is a quality that brought my father a great deal of difficulty and pride in nearly equal measure,” she admitted.
“And your mother I assume,” Duncan replied.
“My mother died in childbirth. It was my father and me for most of my life,” she shared with him.
“I am sorry,” Duncan commiserated. “I too have lost both of my parents. There is only myself and my grandmother in Ireland remaining.”
“When father died, my entire life changed overnight. I have found ways to make do, but the loneliness is the hardest part.” Her eyes sparkled momentarily with tears.
“I understand more than you know,” Duncan replied.
“As does Miss Bolton, I am sure,” Miss Fielding remarked.
“Very much so,” Duncan nodded. “She was fortunate to have been taken in by a delightful family in the village. Such connections aid in alleviating the loneliness, though the pain never really goes away.”
“No, it does not,” she agreed.
Their conversation was interrupted by Mr. White and a footman carrying in trays of cold meats, cheeses, breads, fruits, and sweet biscuits. “Thank you, Mr. White. Please relay the same to Cook.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” Mr. White and the footman bowed, then left the room.
Duncan and Miss Fielding helped themselves to the platters of food and sat eating in silence for a time. When they had their fill, Duncan rang for Mr. White. Duncan stood and offered his hand to Miss Fielding. “I am most interested to hear what you have to say, but I will not force you to speak of it twice. We will depart for Rosenhill upon the morrow, and all may be revealed at that time.”
Miss Fielding nodded her head in agreement and took his hand to stand. Mr. White entered. “Mr. White will show you to your room. I bid you a goodnight, Miss Fielding.” Duncan bowed slightly, then released her hand and watched as she and the butler left the room.
Duncan poured himself a brandy and sat back down. He stared into the fireplace for some time, thinking about the course his life had taken since the death of his parents. He thought of what Miss Fielding had said, and once again found he could not stop thinking about the similarities between his guest and Eliza. They were both beautiful, strong, intelligent, independent women unique in many ways from the other ladies of his acquaintance. They could have passed as sisters.
He wondered what story Miss Fielding had to share and how it would effect Arthur and Eliza’s lives. He was certain to sleep poorly in anticipation of their trip to Rosenhill. My intentions of allowing Arthur and Eliza time to settle in have been thwarted, but it cannot be helped. Duncan stood and ascended the stairs to his room. He walked into his dressing room to disrobe but stopped in the doorway as the memory of the night they all spent together flashed through his mind.
It was the first and last time he would ever hold Eliza in his arms. He waited for the pain to overwhelm him, but it did not, overpowered by his sincere joy that Arthur had found love and dared to accept it. Duncan smiled placing his hand over his heart where she had once cried her tears over Arthur’s wounded body. The image of Arthur caressing Eliza’s face emerged vividly in his mind. Well done, my friend. Well done.
Chapter 24
Come the morning, Duncan and Miss Fielding rode to Rosenhill. Arthur greeted them at the front door. “The guards informed me of your approach. This is a pleasant surprise.”
“I come bearing gifts. Arthur, this is Miss Emma Fielding. Her father was a Bow Street Runner and friends with the late Mr. Daniel Bolton. Miss Fielding, this is His Grace Arthur Huntley, the Duke of Rosenhill. Miss Fielding has come from London in response to your letter,” Duncan introduced.
“Please come in,” Arthur invited, moving backward so that they might pass over the threshold. Miss Bolton is in the nursery with the children. I will go and get her immediately. I will have Mr. Danvers inform the cook that we have guests for breakfast.”
Duncan showed Miss Fielding into Arthur’s library and motioned for her to take a seat. The ride over to Rosenhill had been a quiet one. Duncan had observed her as they rode. She was a skilled rider that carried herself well, tall and straight. With the motion of the horse, her bonnet had fallen back, tangling in her hair and causing it to tumble around her shoulders in riotous disarray. He found it to be rather charming.
A moment of guilt passed through his thoughts as if finding Miss Fielding to be attractive was disloyal to Eliza in some way, but he reminded himself that such a thing was not possible as Eliza was not, and could never be, his. Now, as he sat waiting for Arthur to bring Eliza downstairs, he was once again struck by the similarities.
“Duncan,” Eliza’s voice greeted from the door. “I am so glad to see you decided to join us after all.” Eliza moved forward into the room and greeted him warmly. Duncan’s heart lifted at the sight of her smile. “I see you have brought a guest.” Eliza turned to greet Miss Fielding. “Arthur told me you have come in response to our letter. I am quite anxious to hear what you have to say.”
“As am I,” Arthur replied, joining them. He placed a hand on Eliza’s back as he came to stand by her side. She lifted her face to his and smiled. Arthur guided her over to the settee across from where Duncan and Miss Feilding sat. They sat next to one another with such comfort and ease, it was as if they had always been together.
“So I understand that your father and mine were close friends and associates,” Eliza inquired.
“Yes, they were,” Miss Fielding affirmed.
“I am not sure how much Duncan has shared with you about our current situation,” Arthur began.
“Nothing,” Duncan answered. “I thought it best we heard what she had to say first.”
“I agree,” Arthur replied. “We wrote you about two gentlemen specifically. Do you come bearing information on both or just the late Mr. Bolton?”
“Both, Your Grace,” Miss Fielding replied. “My father spoke of both men to me before he died.”
Eliza, Arthur, and Duncan all exchanged looks before turning back to Miss Fielding with great interest. “I think it would be best if you were to start from the beginning,” Arthur
stated settling in next to Eliza, his arm resting on the back of the settee behind her. Duncan could hardly believe the change in his friend.
“My father’s name was Patrick Fielding. He and your father, Daniel Bolton, joined the Bow Street Runners together when they were very young men, long before they met our mothers. They were the best of friends, brothers of a sort. They fought criminals together. They even saved each other’s lives more than once,” she began. Arthur and Duncan exchanged a look of understanding. They knew all too well the bonds of friendship that were formed during times of pain and strife.
“I do not remember my father ever mentioning a man by that name, but I was only six when he died and do not remember a great many things,” Eliza admitted.
“Our fathers even met our mothers at the same dance,” Miss Fielding smiled at the thought. “When they married, my father elected to stay in London and continue his work as a runner. Your father, at the urgings of your mother, retired from the Runners and came here to become a tutor, believing it to be safer for all of you. My mother died in childbirth shortly after and my father was never the same after that.”
The Defiant Governess of Rosenhill Manor: A Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 24