by Eva Devon
Edward wasn’t surprised that Madame Quick knew him on sight. His face often appeared in newssheets or in caricatures that were posted in shop windows, making him recognizable to almost anyone in London.
“I’m here for Mr. Bly.”
“Mr. Who?” she repeated with a wink.
“Madame Quick,” he growled. “Do not keep me waiting. My gold will prove more fluid if you choose speed.”
She held her dirty, wrinkled hand out, and without hesitation, he placed a golden guinea in it.
“Third floor,” she said. “Second door.”
“Thank you,” he replied as he and Montrose made their way past her and into the dank hall.
They bolted up the stairs, feeling an urgency that did not bode well.
It was a wonder the stairs did not collapse beneath the weight of both of them. It had sustained three years in London, though, he supposed it could sustain the weight of a duke and an earl.
As they headed down the moldy hallway, he heard the dubious sounds of various activities through the paper-thin walls. He paid no heed and marched to the second door.
He did not bother knocking. Edward simply shoved the rickety door open with a good slam of his shoulder. Mr. Bly sat at a broken table with a chipped mug of sludge like tea before him. Not wine.
For the first time that day, Edward was filled with surprise. He had thought to find Mr. Bly deep in his cups. Oh, no. The man sat in his stained shirtsleeves, his head hung at his chest, the most tortured look upon his old face.
Bly’s gaze snapped up and he nearly choked on his own breath when he caught sight of Edward.
“Bly, what the devil are you doing?” Edward demanded.
“Your Grace,” Mr. Bly said, trying to stand, but his legs seemed unable to support him and he sat with a thud. “I am so terribly sorry. I—”
“Don’t,” cut in Edward. “There is no point in it. You needn’t lacerate yourself any further. I can see you have been doing so for days. But this self-pity will do no one good.”
A great racking breath shook Bly’s frame. “But I have destroyed everything.”
“Everything?” Edward countered gently but firmly. “A great deal? Yes. But not everything. Your family awaits you.”
“They can never forgive me for what I’ve done,” he wailed like a small boy.
Edward had no time for such things and asked instead, “Why didn’t you come to me?”
“I was too ashamed, Your Grace.” Bly drove his hand through his unkept silver hair. “I thought I would be able to lift myself up, to bring myself to be worthy of your station. And I trusted men—”
“Och, you trusted sharks,” Montrose corrected.
Edward gave his friend a fast glance, hoping to keep any harsh words silent. “Bly, you are a trusting fellow,” he said. “And that is the most that can be said about you.”
Bly’s face crumpled. “Many people have lost their entire fortunes because of the scheme I have put myself in. I wish that I was not alive.”
“You wish to never see your wife again?” Edward asked softly, not willing to drive the man further into despair. It would do no one any good to do so. “You wish to never see your daughters?”
Bly closed his eyes. “Not as I am now.”
“No, not as you are now,” Edward agreed. “But we can’t have this. This is not the end. Not for you, not for those people.”
Edward drew in a deep breath and crossed to his father-in-law. For once, he did not hesitate and placed his hand on the older man’s shoulder. “You shall make amends to every single one of them.”
“How?” Bly railed, lifting his gaze to Edward’s. His worn face gaunt. “How shall I ever do it? I have lost all of the money you gave me and more. The house that my wife lives in, it shall be taken, too. And my uncle shall never wish to—”
“Bly,” Edward said, “I have more money than I could ever hope to spend in a lifetime, or in three or four generations. We shall find a way to repair the damage. Do not worry on that score. But I shall not give you such unguided freedom again.”
Bly grew silent, his eyes wide as he tried to make sense of what Edward said.
Montrose stood quietly, watching the whole affair, though it was obvious he was holding himself in check.
“I made a mistake,” Edward explained, willing his friend to support him. “I should have assisted you in more than a gift of funds. I should not have shunned you and left you aside simply because you and I did not see eye to eye on the way to navigate this world. From now on, you shall be by my side and I shall assist you.”
Bly said nothing.
Edward crouched down and locked gazes with the broken man. “You are not alone.”
Tears slipped down Bly’s cheeks.
What Edward promised wasn’t something he was looking forward to, particularly. He didn’t like Mr. Bly, but he loved Georgiana. And so he would help her father. He would not simply brush his hands of him because he found the man distasteful. No, he would do his duty. And he would take care of his family.
And that he looked forward to very much.
“Bly,” he said, “put yourself into my keeping, and all will be well. In time, you will be able to lift your head again, because you will do the right thing.”
Bly stared at him with amazement, tears still slipping down his cheeks. “You do not hate me, Your Grace?”
“Why should I hate you?” Hate was not an emotion he allowed in himself and he was stunned for a moment that Bly asked such a thing.
“Because I have brought great shame to you.”
Edward knew he had to choose his words carefully. He couldn’t lie or the man wouldn’t trust him. He’d insist on staying in his own misery because he would not believe there was another way.
So, Edward said with every bit of the love he felt for Georgiana, “I knew the sort of man you were when I met you. You’re a gregarious soul who wishes to please everyone and thus pleases no one. It was my mistake, not yours, to have left you to your own devices in this. We shall make a plan together. Do you see?”
Mr. Bly swallowed, and for one moment, hope replaced his self-loathing. “I do not know what to say.”
Montrose finally crossed the room and clapped Bly on the back. Both men realized that Mr. Bly was on the edge of not being able to bear living with himself.
Montrose looked down at Bly, his chest expanding in a great breath. “The only thing you need to say right now is that you give me permission to marry Elizabeth. Your daughters are remarkable women, and we shall find a way for you to be worthy of them.”
Edward smiled at Montrose, and was then struck by how often he was smiling now, something that had only happened because of his marriage to Georgiana.
Montrose was a damned good man. His words were perfect and seemed to have their intended effect.
Bly nodded, a great sob racking his body. “Of course, I give my permission. Thank you. Thank you, Your Grace. Thank you, my lord. Indeed, I shall do everything I can to lift myself up. I—”
“Do not make grand declarations just now.” Edward stood and offered his hand. “You shall show them, day by day, bit by bit, and we shall help you.”
Thankfully, his father-in-law took his hand, and with help, rose from his chair.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
After ensuring that her mother had taken her hot bath, consumed nourishment, and was tucked into bed with a sleeping draught, Georgiana walked the halls of the house, unable to sleep.
She could not bear it.
Edward’s words before they were married kept ringing through her head. He had been so disdainful of her family. So disdainful of her father, disdainful of their position. She’d loathed his arrogance…
But he had not been mistaken.
In fact, she was the one who had been mistaken. Edward was neither col
d nor distant. His “arrogance” was a protective mask hiding the depth of his kindness.
In the last days she’d felt the change between them. It had filled her with so much hope. Hope that he would love her…just as she had come to love him.
Dear God. She did.
She loved him.
From the way he spent so many hours ensuring that the most minute details of the new roofs on his estates would be perfect for his tenants—he had spent a good hour showing her the figures—to the way he had shown his aunt daily kindness, he was a good man.
He improved the lives of everyone around him. Despite the pain he had learned to live with over the years. He had not grown bitter as some might. And while the world did not understand him, Georgiana did.
How could she bear knowing that the Blys would be an eternal disappointment to him?
Would he turn from her now, denying the closeness they had forged?
She was his wife, but how, how could she look at him with the same confidence as before? How could she face the ton, for they would peer at her and whisper behind their hands that she was the daughter of that man and wasn’t it a shame what Thornfield had to endure?
It wasn’t she who had done it, she knew, but Edward was still forced to carry the weight of her father’s misdeeds.
It wasn’t fair to him. Life was not fair. She knew it. But oh! What must he think of them?
Georgiana pulled her tangled hair over her shoulder and took to the stairs. Nothing could distract her from her sorrow or her fear that something terrible had happened to her father.
Truly, nothing mattered. Not until she knew he was well. Not until she had seen Edward again and looked into his eyes to see if he could ever love her.
Georgiana folded her arms about her, wishing she could find solace in a book. But she could not even read. She had tried novel after novel. None could hold her distracted, desperate mind.
Without thinking, she walked through the sleeping house and slipped out into the purple light of a Yorkshire dawn before the sun had crested the horizon.
The first rays of morning were coming up over the fields, leaving the landscape painted in dramatic hues of lavender, sapphire, and butter yellow.
Her heart sank. Even that glorious sight couldn’t lift her spirits, or alleviate the fear she felt for her father. She drank in the cool morning air, willing her fear to dim.
She searched the horizon, wishing, wishing beyond all measure that she could see her father and see that he was well, that he was still his bouncing self, not broken by the weight of his errors.
She wished in vain.
There was no miraculous sight of her father. Nothing but mist rolled in over the dales. But then the sun broke over the horizon, bathing the grass in its golden hue. The fog began to burn away and the first rays of late summer sun touched her skin. The lark sang, its joyous tune filling the air.
She walked out into the meadow, her heart finally feeling a moment’s pause at the promise of a new day.
Could her life be as the dawn? Could she and her family come out of the darkness? She did not know. It was impossible to know.
Just as she bent to touch a cheerful-faced daisy, horse hooves thundered over the hill. She drew in a shuddering breath, turning toward that sound, and there upon his black mare, she spotted Edward.
He rode through the fog, his great coat flying out behind him. Montrose rode just a length behind as they tore up the road.
The light of the sun skimmed over them, and for one fanciful instant, they appeared as knights of old. Her breath caught in her throat at the moment Edward spotted her. He raced before her and in the last moment, he hauled up the reins and Antigone reared high on her rear legs and then drove her front hooves to the earth.
Antigone danced as if the ride from the South had been nothing. Edward jumped down before her and allowed Antigone to graze and rest.
Montrose paid them no heed but rode straight on toward the house.
Edward hesitated, raking his gaze along her frame, before he observed, “Montrose cannot wait to see Elizabeth.”
She felt herself trembling as she stood before him, waiting for news.
“I found him. Your father is well.”
Relief swept through her with such force, she couldn’t speak. Until this moment, she had not understood how her every sinew was taut, how her stomach was coiled in fear, or how her mind had been consumed by the possibility of the worst possible outcome. At Edward’s words, all of that began to ease.
At long last, she swallowed and asked, “I almost can’t believe it. Where is he?”
“He is in a coach coming behind us, but I had to ride ahead to give you news. I did not wish you to wait. Aunt Agatha is with him. No doubt she has plied him with tea and practical words of comfort throughout the entire journey.”
She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer of gratitude. But then she looked upon her husband who was studying her with uncertain eyes. “Thank you, Edward. I cannot thank you enough. Especially since you knew all along that something like this would happen—”
“Georgiana,” he said. “Please, I behaved terribly in the past. And I can see that behavior has given you grave pain. The words I spoke before we wed—”
“The truth,” she said, “you spoke the truth. And I cannot escape that.”
“Yes you can,” he said quickly, locking his gaze with hers. “We are not our parents. We are not our past. I am here today, this very morning, to tell you I love you. I did not go after your father because of a scandal. I sought him out because I couldn’t bear your pain. Your happiness means everything to me.”
“What?” she gasped.
“The moment I left you I was determined to find him, because I understood my responsibility in his state of affairs.”
“Your responsibility?”
“Yes, Georgiana. He fell true to his nature, just as I have often fallen true to mine. But because of you, I made an attempt to be different, to practice affection, to practice love,” he said. “Would you agree that I have done it?”
“Yes,” she said, hardly able to grasp what was transpiring. “Every day you have shown me.”
“And so, too, your father can change,” Edward said confidently. He tilted his head down, gazing at her with an impassioned plea. “Georgiana, I promise never to let my arrogance or my sense of superiority lead me to hurt you or your family again.”
“I don’t understand,” she said.
“I love you,” he declared softly. “I love you more than I have ever loved anyone or anything. Please do not retreat from me now, because you have shown me how to have so much more than just a quiet life alone where I merely survive.”
“Edward…”
He shook his head. “Before you make answer, I want you to come with me, because there’s something I wish to show you. Will you come?”
He held his hand out to her and without hesitation, she took it.
With that, he swept her up onto Antigone.
She held to her husband tightly, trusting him not to let her fall as they rode into the dales, across the wild, green, rock-strewn moors and toward Thornfield Castle.
Though she said nothing, her heart soared with the possibility that all was not entirely lost.
He loved her…
Did she dare believe it?
…
Antigone raced up to Thornfield Castle and Edward pulled the reins gently, knowing the horse needed a little encouragement to stop.
When they had reached the top of the gravel drive, he jumped down and helped Georgiana to her slippered feet. She looked worn and he wanted to wrap her up and take care of her, but first…first he needed to show her something.
Quietly, he led her up the limestone steps to the castle. He took her in through the foyer that had seen kings and queens, ignoring the aston
ished looks of his butler, Forbes, and the other staff who had not been expecting them.
He took her quietly through the halls, leading her to his private study where it had all begun. For it was in that study that their lives entwined forever.
He opened the door and led her in.
“Do you see something?” he asked, awaiting her observation with a nervousness he had not felt since boyhood.
She quietly looked about the room, at the crackling fire, and then she stopped. She looked exactly where he hoped that she would. There was his chair, the chair she had refused to leave, the one that had forced him to insist he would kiss her if she would not go. And beside it was another one, exactly the same.
“Is that…” she murmured.
“It is for you,” he said, eager to explain his intent. “Your chair, beside mine. This study is yours now. It is ours. You will never be forced to leave this room, and you have a chair of your own.”
She turned to him, tears filling her eyes. “When did you do this?”
“A week ago,” he said. “The day we went to my stables, the day I introduced you to Beatrice, the day you accepted me for who I was. I saw it in your eyes, Georgiana. I saw then that you did not mind my past any more than I mind yours now. I love you,” he said. “And I will always love you, and I want you beside me.”
“I love you, too,” she said. “I think I’ve known it for some time now, but I didn’t know how to tell you because—”
“Because I’m a strange fellow?” he said.
Her brow furrowed and then she laughed. “You are teasing me, Edward.”
He nodded. “So, you did not tell me because I am strange.”
“Because one never knows how you might react to things.”
“Thank you for tolerating me.”
“I don’t tolerate you,” she insisted. “I love you. I wanted to be yours from the moment that you talked about flight. I knew then that you were the man for me because you viewed the world with a sense of adventure and hope.”
“My goodness,” he said, a brow arched. “Who would have thought such a thing, that a little chat about science could cause you to fall in love with me?”
