by Darcy Burke
“I’ll just go for my walk,” Fanny said, starting toward the door. As she came abreast of her mother, the older woman touched her arm, startling Fanny with the contact.
“Don’t forget to come back in time to see Mr. Duckworth. Your father will be furious if you don’t.”
Fanny didn’t particularly care how her father felt, but also acknowledged it was easier to just meet the man. She certainly wasn’t going to agree to anything else. “I will.”
Mother dropped her hand. “If you want your sketchbook, I left it in the kitchen.”
“You didn’t give it to Jacob?”
“I thought about it, but no. Please keep it in your room. You know how I like the house to look.”
“Yes, Mother.” Fanny went to the door.
“And Fanny?”
She turned and blinked.
“I am happy to have you home. I missed you while you were gone.”
Fanny appreciated the sentiment. She knew her mother—and her father—loved her. It had just become difficult to remember that knowing all she did now about how they’d treated Ivy. “Thank you.”
“Just remember where you came from and what’s really important. There’s nothing wrong with a simple, meaningful life. You don’t need a title or expensive clothing or to go to London to be happy.”
No, she didn’t. She just wanted to feel like she belonged.
Fanny walked to the back of the house into the kitchen where the cook was preparing dinner for later. Hard of hearing, she merely nodded at Fanny, who smiled in return.
The sketchbook sat at the edge of a worktable near the pantry. Fanny plucked it up and hurried outside into the kitchen garden.
A soft breeze stirred the ribbons of her bonnet, reminding her that she hadn’t tied them. She didn’t bother now either but continued on her way out of the garden toward a path that would follow the cow enclosure until it veered through a thicket.
Her thoughts were filled with her mother’s harsh words as well as her endorsement of Mr. Duckworth. She and her father would do their best to work a match between Fanny and the man she’d already said she didn’t wish to marry.
Ten minutes later, she made her way down a gently rolling hill, which reminded her of the first time she’d met David. When she’d slipped on the snow and tumbled over herself into an embarrassing heap.
She passed through a narrow gap in the hedgerow and came upon the pond, her small, private space partly nestled beneath the shade of a massive willow tree. It had been Ivy’s space too. She used to bring Fanny here when she was very young and read her stories. They would dip their toes into the water and chase butterflies.
The pair of ducks she’d seen yesterday were nowhere in sight, but in their place was a pintail duck guiding her ducklings. Smiling, Fanny walked to the edge of the pond. “Well, aren’t you the sweetest things?”
“Pardon me if I take issue with that.”
Fanny swung around at the sound of the familiar voice. Standing near a tree was the man she couldn’t marry.
Chapter 10
“In my opinion, you’re the sweetest thing.” David couldn’t believe his good fortune. He’d been on his way to see Fanny, and here she was.
“Are you really there?” she asked. Her voice carried to him across the water.
The pale green ribbons of her bonnet hung loose and dangled against the floral print of her walking dress. A matching ribbon was drawn beneath her breasts, accentuating her curves. Her gown was white with small blue flowers edged with leaves that coordinated with the ribbon. The color scheme perfectly matched her eyes, and he drank the entirety in like a man stranded in the desert.
“Yes.” He moved forward, but the pond was between them. He began to skirt the edge.
“Careful you don’t fall in,” she said.
“Shouldn’t I be cautioning you?”
“Probably.”
He didn’t stop until he was a few feet away from her. “Is that a drawing book?”
She glanced down to the item in her hand. “Yes. There was a pair of common pochards here yesterday.”
“And you were sketching them? May I see?”
A pretty blush bloomed in her cheeks. “It isn’t finished.”
He shrugged. “I don’t mind.”
She held the book up and flipped it open. “Here.” She turned it in her hands and showed him the half-drawn sketch.
He peered at the pencil drawing and smiled. “You’re quite good.”
She closed the book with a laugh. “Now you’re just being polite.”
“Polite would be saying it’s a nice picture.”
Her eyes narrowed skeptically, but she didn’t respond.
“Will you draw the pintail and her babies today?”
“I was considering it,” she said. “Until I saw you. David—Lord St. Ives—what on earth are you doing here?”
He took a step toward her. “I saw a golden eagle and couldn’t help but follow it. They’re quite rare.”
“You followed a golden eagle from London?”
“From the road.” He gestured toward the west. “It’s maybe a ten-minute walk that way.”
“I know where the road is,” she said. “I live near here.”
He blinked, taking pleasure in pretending this was a chance meeting. Which it was. Partly. “Do you?”
She flattened her lips. “If you expect me to believe that you don’t know that, I will know you are being more than polite. You’re being downright condescending.”
He was instantly contrite. “Fanny, I was only teasing, never condescending. And please don’t call me Lord St. Ives. I couldn’t bear it.”
“I can’t very well call you David.” There was an edge to her voice, and he wondered if she’d even received his letters. She hadn’t responded, and he’d been afraid she might not welcome him.
“I wrote to you,” he said softly. “Did you get my letters?”
“I did.” She turned from him and appeared to study the ducks, who had swum to the other side of the pond. Her demeanor seemed to indicate that his fears were accurate.
He stepped toward her again. “I came a long way to talk to you.”
She didn’t turn. “You said in your last letter that if I didn’t respond, you’d leave me alone.”
“Turns out that’s far easier said than done. But if you want that, I’ll go.”
She looked toward him, her aqua eyes unfathomable. “I don’t know what I want. I know I wanted you, but I think that moment has passed.”
“Was it really just a moment?” he asked. “I am not going to marry Miss Stoke. How could I consider anyone when the only woman who occupies my mind is you?”
“Please don’t say anything more.” Her voice was tight, and he caught a glimpse of anguish in her eyes before she turned her head. “There are…reasons we can’t be together.”
He’d been about to go to her, had hoped to touch her. But her words stopped him cold. Yes, there were reasons—according to his mother. Was Fanny aware of them too?
“Your mother—”
“You mustn’t listen to her,” David said. He erased the distance between them and clasped her waist, turning her to face him. “None of what matters to her matters to me. I don’t care that your family and my family despise each other. I refuse to allow something that occurred before we were even born dictate our happiness.”
She stared up at him then blinked. “It was your family that employed my great-uncle and accused him of kidnapping and murder.”
He couldn’t tell if she was asking him a question or not. It hadn’t sounded like a question, but her expression seemed to indicate surprise. “You didn’t know? What other reasons could there be to keep us apart?”
She shook her head and glanced toward the pintails. “Your promise to your father, for one. Can you really turn your back on that pledge?” When her gaze met his once more, her uncertainty was plain.
He put his other hand on her waist and longed to pull her aga
inst him, to reassure her that he was choosing her. “I miss my father every day. And I loved him so very much. It pains me to break that promise, but I made it in a time of grief and anguish. He would have wanted me to be happy. And you, Fanny, you will make me happy. As much as I loved him, I vow to love you even more.”
“You love me?”
He wanted to erase the doubt lingering in her eyes. “More than I can say.”
She dropped her sketchbook, and her arms came up to encircle his neck just before she pressed her mouth to his. He’d waited so long for this kiss. Months. Weeks. A lifetime.
He tilted his head and pulled her to his chest, desperate to feel her heat and desire. Her lips slid along his, tantalizing his senses. Then he felt her tongue, and he opened to meet her, surrendering himself to delicious abandon.
Their secluded location meant he didn’t have to worry about someone stumbling upon them. Unless… He pulled back. “How far away is your house?”
She tugged at his neck, urging him to continue the kiss. “Far enough.”
That was all he needed to hear. He splayed his hands along her lower back, caressing her curves and relishing the feel of her body pressed to his. Need pulsed through him. It would be very easy to take things much too far. He nibbled her lower lip and pulled his mouth from hers.
Her eyes were dark with desire, her lips reddened and parted as she drew in rapid breaths. “How can you love me?”
His mouth curved into a smile. “If I knew that, I’d be a far wiser man than I am.”
“And why did you stop kissing me?” She looked supremely put out.
“Because I don’t want to overstep. Not until we’re married. Will your parents accept me, or will they be as opposed to our marriage as my mother and uncle?”
She jerked back from him. “Marriage? I’m fairly certain they won’t allow it.”
He frowned. “I came to ask your father for your hand—provided you wanted it. Of course, I must ask you properly.”
“No, don’t.” She shook her head, edging away from him until he dropped his hands from her waist. “I can’t marry you.”
His eyes widened and then his jaw clenched. “This business between our families doesn’t matter. It has nothing to do with us.”
“No, but it would be difficult.” And it wasn’t the only thing. How could she tell him that his mother had threatened her?
“We can overcome difficult,” he said. “I am breaking a promise I made to my father, and I would do it a thousand times to be with you.”
His words filled her with joy and hope, but also grounded her with worry. “How can you be so certain?”
“Because I am. I told you I loved you.”
She’d thought she was falling in love with him, but had then spent the last several weeks banishing him from her mind. And yet seeing him today brought all the emotion she’d tried to bury rushing back over her. He was a song in her heart and a bird taking flight.
“I love you too,” she said softly.
His brow gathered into a tight pleat. “Then why won’t you marry me?”
She wanted to tell him, but the words just wouldn’t come.
“Tell me, Fanny. You owe me that.”
She owed him? Her eyes narrowed as irritation sprouted in her chest. “I am not beholden to you for anything.”
He exhaled, his features relaxing briefly. “No, you’re not. But if I love you and you love me, you can’t just tell me we can’t be married and not give an explanation.” His gaze hardened with determination. “I’m not going to give up easily. Not when I know you love me.”
How could she walk away from that? “It’s more than our shared family history. When I mentioned your mother earlier, I was referring to a conversation we had before I left London.”
His face paled. “Is that why you left so abruptly? What did she say to you?”
“It was after that man—I don’t remember his name—challenged Mr. Royston to a duel. You’d left the ball, and she came to introduce herself. She brought up…things from my sister’s past. Things people don’t know.” Fanny bent to pick up her sketchbook and turned toward the pond. “The mention of a duel had people talking. About West.”
“I heard about that. He called a man out for insulting your sister.” He took a step toward her. “Fanny, I don’t care that your father is a cabinetmaker.”
She glanced at him but returned her focus to the water. It was easier not to look at him. “That’s not the real reason he insulted Ivy. They met here in Yorkshire more than a decade ago. Ivy fell in love with him, and he asked her to marry him. She…gave herself to him, thinking they would be wed. She’s the first one to tell you it was foolish, but I daresay I understand how one might be carried away.” She cast him another sidelong glance as heat crept up her neck.
“He got her with child and refused to marry her. When my parents found out, they banished her. She ended up in a workhouse where she birthed the babe, but it didn’t survive. A kind patroness took pity on her and found her work as a companion. Eventually, she ended up working for Lady Dunn.” She turned to face him then, her insides a tumult of anguish and anger for what had happened to Ivy. Yes, she’d made a mistake, but who among them hadn’t? Ivy had more than paid for trusting the wrong man.
“I would want to kill Bothwick too,” David said softly, his voice a dangerous thread.
Fanny appreciated his loyalty to her sister. “Apparently, his mother, Lady Bothwick, is a friend of your mother’s. If I marry you, your mother will tell everyone Ivy’s secret. I can’t let that happen, David. I will do anything to protect my sister—even walk away from you.”
His stare was dark but compassionate. “Which is what you did.”
She nodded. A moment passed, and she watched his expression alter.
His lip curled, and his eyes were a thunderstorm. “I won’t let her say a word.”
“How can you stop her?”
“No one will believe it.” He sounded certain, and Fanny wished she shared his confidence. “Your sister is a duchess.”
“And your mother is a countess,” she said. “Ivy is already looked at with derision by some because of our family, because my father is in trade. It may not matter to you, but it matters to others.”
“Why should we care what others think?”
“Perhaps we shouldn’t, but I won’t put Ivy through that sort of notoriety, nor will I subject her children to it. They’re too young to know anything now—and one isn’t even yet born—but the past would follow them.” Fanny clutched her book to her chest. “Furthermore, West’s behavior before he married Ivy was less than esteemed by those who think themselves superior. People won’t think twice about denigrating his wife.”
“My mother will keep quiet. I’ll make sure of it.” His eyes were cool, his tone firm.
His assurance gave her no comfort. Maybe it was because she couldn’t forget the nastiness of his mother’s demeanor. She’d been so cavalier and disparaging. She searched his face, needing a definitive answer. “How? She was rather adamant I leave you alone. She thinks I’m utterly beneath you, David. How are we to have a marriage when your mother thinks that?”
She recalled that her mother despised Ivy’s husband, and it didn’t matter. Except Ivy didn’t have a relationship with her mother. David did. “Are you and your mother close?” Fanny asked.
He looked past her, perhaps at the mother pintail duck. “Not as close as I was to my father, but I thought we were, yes.” His gaze found hers again. “However, since my father died, things have been strained. It was such a shock for both of us. This promise I made to my father seems to be very important to her.”
Fanny hadn’t experienced loss like that and struggled to understand. She wanted to be compassionate. “Perhaps keeping that promise somehow keeps your father more alive—at least in her mind.”
“You’re very wise, Fanny. Wiser than I am.” He glanced back toward the pond. “She can be…difficult, but I know she only wants wha
t’s best for me. I’ll convince her that you’re what’s best for me.”
“No one can ever know—about Ivy,” Fanny said. “I don’t even want Ivy to know that your mother is aware of her background.”
“I completely understand. Will you trust me to protect her?”
If it were just her, Fanny would have no hesitation, but Ivy had already been through so much. Fanny couldn’t ever expose her to more pain. “I would trust you with my life, but this is Ivy’s, not mine.”
His answering stare was heartfelt and sincere. “Your family is my family.”
Again, the joy his words gave her were tempered with worry. “I think my father and your uncle might have something to say about that.”
He grimaced. “Then we won’t give them the opportunity. Perhaps we should leave for Gretna Green straightaway.” He glanced toward the road.
“You want to elope right now?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Why not?”
She thought of what awaited her at home—Mr. Duckworth and a weighty dose of pressure to marry him. Suddenly, dashing off to Scotland seemed a brilliant idea. But then what? Then they’d have to deal with the consequences, and what if his mother exposed Ivy anyway? Fanny wanted to believe the woman wouldn’t do such a thing to her daughter-in-law’s family, but the countess’s contempt was emblazoned in her mind. There was also the matter of why she’d returned to Yorkshire in the first place. “My brother is getting married day after tomorrow.”
“You don’t want to share the same wedding date?”
She couldn’t help but laugh, and he smiled in return. “That’s not the issue, and you well know it. I came here to see him wed. He’s marrying the younger sister of my oldest and dearest friend.”
“Fanny, I shall say it again, you’ve the kindest, most generous heart of anyone I’ve ever known.”
“It’s not just the wedding. I’m still nervous about your mother.” She worried her lower lip as she stared up at him. “You can promise me the moon, but you can’t control her.”
His eyes glinted like candlelight on polished silver. “I can if I cut her off. She won’t want to lose the income I provide her or give up living in one of my houses.”
