An Earl for the Broken-Hearted Duchess

by Lucinda Nelson

  When she did, at last, sleep… he was all that occupied her mind.

  By morning she would wake warm, blushing and restless.

  How she would miss him.

  *** Lord Nathaniel Sterling, Earl of Comptonshire

  Nathaniel did not want to go to London. He did not want to spend a single moment away from Margaret, let alone a week.

  But the Duke of Sallingworth had insisted upon his visit and on his remaining for a full week so that they could get to know one another.

  As far as Nathaniel knew, the Duke could be a thrifty gentleman. He was highly particular about the towns that he graced with his patronage and liked to get to know the earls and lords involved thoroughly before reaching a decision.

  The prospect of pandering to the gentleman’s whims for a week was not especially thrilling for Nathaniel. Particularly, when the most thrilling thing imaginable – the Duchess of Lowe – was so many miles away from him.

  After the first night with the Duke, he yearned to speak to Margaret. He wanted to tell her about the queer things the Duke had done, like swapping his knife and fork from hand to hand throughout their evening meal. Several times.

  He imagined that she would have laughed at that.

  But she was not there to speak to and he went to bed feeling sullen, missing her more than he could stand after just one night.

  On the fourth night, the Duke insisted on the pair of them attending a ball together, so that the Duke could assess Nathaniel’s social skills. He thought it a strange request, but was in no position to decline the invitation.

  The ball felt dull without Margaret by his side. He made small talk throughout the evening until his tongue was sore and his mind felt ready to bury itself in anything, anything but this. He’d take listening to his father’s lectures for a full day over making chitchat with the London peerage.

  When the evening was finally drawing to a close, he awaited the Duke by the door so that they could take a carriage back to the estate. As he waited, he overheard a cluster of men and women to the left of him speaking.

  “Such a pity about the Duke of Lowe,” a lady said.

  Nathaniel’s ears pricked.

  “Yes, it is no wonder that he had to look elsewhere. Such an unloving woman. He is scarcely cold in his grave and I hear the Duchess has already found herself a gentleman.”

  “I hear she has found herself several,” a man piped in and was joined by a chorus of laughter.

  “Can you imagine? Barely a widow and she’s clawing at the men of Comptonshire.”

  “The poor gentleman can’t know what they’re in for!”

  More laughter.

  Laughter. Laughter. Laughter and lies.

  Nathaniel felt his temperature rise. He felt as if there was this colossal pressure inside of him, building and building, about to burst.

  He would walk away. Just walk away. It would do Margaret no good to have him make a scene, even if it was on her behalf.

  “And that poor boy. Only six years old. With such a mother and no father. Bless his soul,” a gentleman said.

  That was it. The pressure burst. Nathaniel rounded upon them with a face like iron. “How dare you speak such slander,” he barked at them.

  “You ought to be ashamed of yourselves. All of you. The Duchess of Lowe is a far cry better than all of you. She wouldn’t dare speak such lies, nor spread gossip that may well be untrue. As this is. Entirely untrue.”

  It poured out of him in a flaming rush and his countenance was so dangerous that the group just stared at him. Finally, he turned his attention to the man who had spoken last, about Ezra.

  Nathaniel’s fist bunched at his side. How he wanted to hit him. In the army, he would have. But he was not in the army anymore and getting away with such behavior was not so easy.

  “That boy, who you know nothing of, is the luckiest boy alive to have a mother like her. You will not speak of either of them again. Am I clear?”

  The man was frozen.

  “Am I clear?” His fist twitched at his side and the man flinched as though Nathaniel had lifted his hand to strike him.

  The man nodded shakily, as did his companions, before ducking to the left of Nathaniel and out of reach.

  The others followed suit until Nathaniel was left standing alone, staring at the wall.

  After a moment, he heard someone clear their throat. He looked back over his shoulder to see the Duke. His expression was thoroughly disappointed.

  ***

  Lady Margaret Abigail Baxter, Duchess of Lowe

  Margaret spent the days without Nathaniel with William. He was keen to see her and expressed that he missed her dearly.

  “My dear friend, you must have been terribly bored in Comptonshire to have missed me so. It has been but a week since we last saw each other.”

  William acknowledged this with a smile. She hoped to see more of his mischief today. He had seemed so sullen and quiet as of late. “True as that may be, I have missed you nevertheless. You have been very busy.”

  “Are you feeling neglected?” she remarked, playfully. She hoped this would kick start the rapport that had always existed between them, but it didn’t. He only smiled in a way that was too stiff to seem sincere.

  “Do not tease me,” he said softly. “There is something important I have come to say.”

  Margaret blinked. “Oh? Then do say it.”

  He stood and Margaret’s surprise mounted. “William?”

  “Margaret.” He took a deep, audible breath. She thought she saw his hands shaking. “I had hoped to give you time before I said this. I was going to wait until your mourning period had ended, but it seems as if my time might be running out.”

  Again, he paused, as though the words were difficult to say. “I have spent so many years hoping for this moment, and I will not risk it on the grounds of etiquette. I cannot stay silent anymore. It is too much for me to bear.”

  Margaret stood with an expression of concern. She reached out for him but he stepped back. “Do not touch me. I will not be able to speak if you touch me.”

  She’d meant to speak, but did not. Her lips closed softly and she dropped her hands back to her sides. She waited.

  It was a few moments before he was able to speak again. When he did, his eyes rose to hers and held.

  “Margaret,” he said, with greater strength. “I love you.”

  Time was frozen between them and Margaret’s tongue was heavy in her mouth. Her mind lagged and she stared at him, unblinking in the silence.

  “The truth is that I have loved you ever since the moment we met. I have loved you with my entire heart.”

  Speak, she commanded herself, but still nothing came.

  Perhaps if she’d said something, he wouldn’t have done what he did then. She did not understand his intentions until his cool hands were cupping her cheeks and he was kissing her.

  Like a marble statue, she was motionless. Her hands did not lift to hold him, her eyes did not close and her lips were utterly still.

  It was perhaps three seconds before her sense returned to her. She put her hands up and gently pushed against his chest.

  Their lips parted and she stared up at him as if she’d seen something horrifying.

  “William,” she breathed shakily. “You are my friend. My dearest friend.”

  “Yes,” he said, smiling. “Your dearest friend. Don’t you see?”

  Margaret began shaking her head. “No, you do not understand. I-”

  There was a gasp behind her. Margaret whipped her head around to gawp over her shoulder. There, in the doorway, her cousin stood. Miss White stood beside her, having just welcomed her inside.

  Margaret sucked in a breath and William took a step back. As her hands fell back to her sides, she realized she’d been clutching his tunic.

  How much had she seen?

  William cleared his throat and straightened his tunic. He looked between Tessa and Margaret, before saying, “I suppose I ought to take my l
eave.”

  There was such reluctance in his voice. And in his eyes. He hesitated, still looking at her as if she were the manifestation of his heart and soul. “I will return this evening?”

  Margaret couldn’t muster a sound. She only nodded jerkily.

  William left quickly, throwing one last glance back at her before disappearing out the door.

  In his absence, Margaret sank down into a seat and stared ahead at nothing. She heard Tessa step closer, but did not fully acknowledge her presence until she felt her cousin’s hand upon her shoulder.

  “Oh my dear cousin,” she murmured. “You are quite the heart hunter, aren’t you?”

  Tessa did not stay. Not long enough to listen to reason. Certainly not long enough for Margaret to even summon her own reason.

  After a few moments, Tessa simply bid her a good day and said that she would come again at a more appropriate time.

  So Margaret was left alone. Thinking about William. William, who she’d loved desperately since the moment they’d met. William, her closest companion. William, who had made her laugh until her stomach hurt.

  William, her friend and nothing more.

  She almost wished there could be more. And as she sat alone she searched her heart, every nook and cranny, in search of something more.

  But all she found was Nathaniel. Occupying every corner. Commanding every beat.

  Margaret put her face in her hands and wept. For some time, she didn’t know why she felt so stricken by sadness. But the more she cried, the clearer it became. She didn’t love William, but William loved her. And if that was true… she would lose him.

  It was such a terrible thought. A terrible, terrible thought. She had already lost so much more than any woman deserved and she could not lose William too.

  But what could she expect of him? If what he’d said was true and he’d harbored this love since the day we’d met, then she did not stand a chance of it simply vanishing.

  And so long as that love remained, their friendship was doomed.

  It felt like some final, cruel trick that Joshua was playing on her. Even months after his death, there were still losses to be faced by her.

  So many losses.

  *** Lady Margaret Abigail Baxter, Duchess of Lowe

  Margaret dreaded the coming evening. She wrung her hands and alternated between sitting for long periods of time and pacing. She tried to work out what she was going to say to him. How she was going to say what needed to be said.

  She thought she had it figured out, but when Miss White announced that he had arrived, the words abandoned her.

  He walked into the drawing room. She tried to read his expression, but he was disguising his feelings well. He looked neither hopeful nor despondent. Only calm.

  “Should I have come later?” William asked. She wondered why he asked. Did she not look ready to see him? She realized that she was staring and had said nothing to greet him.

  “No,” she blurted. “This is fine.”

  They stood looking at one another. The evening light was dim and made the room feel smaller. Made them feel closer. Not so long ago, he’d been kissing her.

  It felt like forever before he spoke, perhaps because he was waiting for her to speak first. When she didn’t, he murmured, “It’s him. The Earl.”

  Margaret could hear her own heartbeat.

  William nodded slowly. His mouth tightened into a thin line, but he didn’t look angry. There was a wet shine on his lashes. “I understand.”

  “William,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

  “No,” he said shakily, when she tried to step towards him. He put his hand up between them to keep her from approaching him and tried to offer her a smile. It looked unsteady. “Please do not pity me. I could not bear that.”

  “Pity you?” She took hold of his outstretched hand and clutched it between hers. “William, you cannot imagine how dear you are to me. You cannot imagine. I do not pity you. I pity us.”

  “Why do you pity us?” As he said this, a tear rolled down his cheek. He was staring at their twined fingers.

  “Because I do not want this thing to ruin us. Do you truly love me, William?”

  He nodded and a few more tears rolled free.

  “Then I know that you wish you didn’t. I know that this is out of your hands as much as it is out of mine. And yet, I will ask something of you, in utter selfishness.”

  He waited. His beautiful turquoise eyes were distorted by a sheen of salty dew drops.

  “Do not abandon our friendship. I could not stand that. Take time. Take all the time you need, but promise me we will not be lost to one another forever.”

  William made a low, trembling noise. He brought his free hand up and cupped her knuckles, so that both their hands were entwined between them. “I am sorry I have done this to us.”

  She shook her head and pressed her forehead against his. “You had no hand in this,” she whispered. “This is not your fault. Now promise me, my dearest friend.”

  He nodded slightly. “I promise.”

  They stood like that for a long time, before William stepped back. He wiped at his tears with the back of his hand and his countenance lost its unsteadiness. There was a resignation in his expression that stung her, though she knew they needed it. Resignation had to play a part in this.

  “I love you,” he said once more. “I had to say it one more time before I hold my tongue forever.”

  And she loved him too, in her own way. He was one of the few kind men she knew. But she couldn’t tell him that she loved him. Not anymore.

  “When will I see you again?”

  “I think I will return to France for a time.”

  “Yes,” she said. “I think you should. Will you write?”

  “I will.”

  He allowed her to embrace him, just once and only for a moment. Then he said goodbye and left.

  In his absence, Margaret had never felt so hollow. She watched him ride away from the window and wondered when she would next see him again.

  She wondered too, if she might have considered him a visible partner if Nathaniel hadn’t been in her life. He was a good man. A good friend. And there were worse things to build a relationship on than true friendship. He might have made her happy.

  But she was in love with Nathaniel Sterling. It was a realization that struck her almost as hard as William’s confession.

  She should have seen it coming, of course, but it wasn’t until she heard herself saying no to William that she realized why she had to. Because she couldn’t want anyone but Nathaniel.

  Suddenly, she felt that she missed him more than she ever had before. She felt raw inside and needed his reassurance. His security. His steady embrace.

  Yes. His steadiness. She took a breath. His steadiness had become the most precious thing to her. That sense he gave when he was holding her, that she could let the weight of all her baggage, all her responsibility and pain, fall away.

  How she longed to have him back here, with her.

  Not for an evening.

  Not for a night.

  Forever.

  ***

  Lord Nathaniel Sterling, Earl of Comptonshire

  She looked as if she’d been crying when he arrived. The lighting in the drawing room was low, making the evening look later than it was.

  He stepped inside with a deep furrow between his brows. “Margaret,” he murmured. “Are you not well?”

  On his way in, he had seen a gentleman riding out of the grounds. He knew who it was.

  When Nathaniel and William had met one another by the gates, both on horseback, they had said nothing. Only halted and inclined their heads, each of them clearly making a poor effort at politeness.

  Why had the Lord Brandon been here so late?

  Upon stepping inside to find Margaret wiping tears from her eyes, the churning in his stomach increased tenfold.

  “Nathaniel,” she breathed, wiping the last of the wetness from her lashes. “You
have come back early.”

  “Yes,” he remarked. He had not approached to embrace her. Instead, he simply stood in the doorway. “I see that Lord Brandon has been here.”

  Margaret hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. He is returning to France and came to say goodbye.”

  He wanted to ask if that was all, given that she seemed so awfully upset, though it was obvious that she was doing her best to hide it. Why hide such a thing, if indeed it was innocent?