by Teri Wilson
“I’m dead serious.”
“No, you’re not. You can’t be.” But he looked serious. And—oh, God, what was he doing?—it looked as if he was going to kneel right in front of her.
Sure enough, he dropped to one knee in the gravel. Panicked, Elizabeth’s only coherent thought was that he was going to ruin his tuxedo if he didn’t get up. It was a ludicrous thing to be concerned about at a time like this. Elizabeth could only blame it on her mother and Scott Bridal.
He took her hands in his. She tried not to think about how warm and comforting they felt. Or about how agitated Donovan looked all of a sudden, like a man on a mission. “Elizabeth Scott, will you marry me?”
She could only stare at him in wonder. What in the world was he thinking? A hot flush rose to her cheeks, her heart threatened to pound its way right out of her chest, and she finally managed to answer him. “No.”
Clearly, her answer caught him by surprise. He paled and seemed to struggle to keep his composure. “Pardon me?”
“No.” That time, it came out a bit more forcefully than she’d planned. But really, the whole idea was so absurd. She simply couldn’t help it.
Marrying him was out of the question. Marrying Donovan would mean becoming Mrs. Donovan Darcy, mistress of Chadwicke. It would mean marrying into the very upper reaches of British society. Just the thought of it brought on a wave of nausea.
If she’d overstepped her bounds by trying to fit in at the Barclay School, even thinking about marrying Donovan seemed so far-fetched it was inconceivable.
Even if the idea appealed to her.
Just the tiniest bit.
Stop it. You have no business even entertaining his proposal. You’re the one who dresses the brides. You always have been. You’ll never marry the handsome prince yourself.
Of course she wouldn’t. People like Donovan didn’t even think she was good enough to educate their children.
“No,” she repeated. “I can’t marry you.”
Donovan winced. He gently released her hands before rising to his feet. “Elizabeth, you must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”
Unable to hear another word, she cut him off. “Stop. Please.”
He crossed his arms and looked down at her with thunderstorms gathering in his eyes.
“I can’t marry you, Donovan. The very notion of it is crazy. Look what a mess my presence has created after only one weekend. Your family would be horrified. I can imagine the look on your aunt Constance’s face if she ever heard we were engaged.” Elizabeth shuddered. Aunt Constance was a handful, even when she was trying to be civil.
Donovan waited a long moment before responding. When at last he did, he’d managed to rein in the temper that still showed in the tightening of his posture. “I’m a grown man. My aunt will not choose whom I marry. If that were the case, I’d have married Helena or one of the dozen or more of her clones years ago. And as for the rest of my family, Zara adores you. Surely you recognize that?”
“Yes, I do, but...”
He’d begun to pace back and forth like a caged animal. He spun on his heel and stopped. “But what?”
Elizabeth suddenly had difficulty swallowing. Why were the reasons so difficult to articulate? Couldn’t he see them for himself? “Your peers, Donovan. Your friends. I’m from a completely different world. Good grief, Grant Markham is standing in your ballroom right now.”
A vein throbbed in Donovan’s temple. “Henry is my closest friend, and he considers you a goddess. Hell, he’s half in love with your sister. And if you’d stayed with me long enough back there, you would know that Grant Markham is no longer standing in my ballroom. He’s flat on his back. It will be a cold day in hell before he or Helena ever set foot in my home again.”
At that, something stirred inside Elizabeth. She did her best to ignore it.
“All of this will be a moot point once you’re my wife.”
Ignoring the something suddenly became easier. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that once we’re married, people—Aunt Constance, Helena and the like—will leave you alone. It will be too late to keep us apart. You’ll be my wife, and that will be the end of it.” He stated it so matter-of-factly.
Hearing it put in such a way hurt Elizabeth’s heart. Perhaps growing up in the shadow of Scott Bridal had clouded her judgment, but she’d never imagined being proposed to in such a manner. “How romantic. Pardon me while I swoon.”
“Romance? Is that what this about? Because I’ll romance you to the ends of the earth.” His voice bounced off the trees and echoed in the darkness. “For God’s sake, we just made love. That meant something to me. And I know it meant something to you, as well.”
Elizabeth wiped a tear from her cheek. Funny, she hadn’t even realized she’d begun to cry. “This isn’t the nineteenth century. Just because we slept together doesn’t mean you have to marry me.”
“That’s not what’s going on here, and you know it.” He planted himself less than a foot away from her. “Perhaps you didn’t hear me earlier, but I said I love you. Look, I know things are complicated. I’d be lying if I said they weren’t. I’ve tried talking myself out of these feelings, but those efforts were in vain. I’m in love with you.”
Things were complicated. If that wasn’t the understatement of the century, Elizabeth didn’t know what was.
But did he honestly think he was in love with her?
Her heart pounded, as if struggling to accept his words. Her head, on the other hand, refused to even wrap itself around them. “You’re not in love with me, Donovan.”
He looked at her with a smile of affected incredulity. “Do you propose to tell me how I feel?”
“You’re not in love. A man in love doesn’t try to convince himself otherwise. You’re a man accustomed to getting what he wants. And right now, what you want is me.” It was her worst fear, spoken aloud.
Donovan’s jaw visibly clenched, but his gaze grew tender. So tender, she almost believed what he was saying, no matter how absurd it sounded. “You’re afraid. Don’t be. I’m right here, asking you to be my wife.”
She could feel the heat coming off his body. It drew her in with an almost primal pull until she began to tremble from head to toe. She closed her eyes and basked in the warmth of him. She was on the verge of giving in. It would be so easy to just say yes.
Yes, I’ll marry you.
It lingered there, on the tip of her tongue. She was surprised at how sweet the yes tasted, like honey.
But somewhere in her consciousness, she was well aware it was too sweet. This...all of it...was too good to be true.
It would never work. We’d kill each other. Or worse, end up hating one another.
Whatever the two of them were feeling wasn’t real. It could only be an illusion—just part of the afterglow of really great sex.
And it had unquestionably been great. More than great. Elizabeth had certainly never experienced such passion before. But the best part had been that in the midst of all that heat, there’d been an undeniable tenderness. The things Donovan had whispered in her ear as he’d moved inside her and the way his hands had lovingly caressed every inch of her body were almost enough to make her believe he loved her. She probably would have believed it until Markham showed up.
His presence was an ugly reminder of exactly who she was and where she came from. And that place was a world apart from Chadwicke.
She would never belong in a world like Donovan Darcy’s.
“You don’t love me, Donovan.” She swallowed and had to force her next words from her mouth. “You don’t love me and I don’t love you.”
He flinched, as surely as she’d slapped him across the face like she had Grant Markham. “I see.”
Elizabeth stared somewhere above his head, una
ble to meet his gaze.
“Your feelings on the matter are clear. I suppose I should be ashamed of my own since they’re obviously not reciprocated. Forgive me for suggesting such a preposterous arrangement.”
She simply nodded, turned around and headed back toward the house. Tears were flowing freely down her face now. She was incapable of stopping them. Her only hope was to make it to her room before she completely broke down.
To her great relief, Donovan didn’t try to follow her.
But he said her name one last time as she fled. “Elizabeth...”
Ah-lizabeth.
It was almost her undoing.
Almost...
23
“A simple heads-up would have been nice. You disappeared after the ball, and I was worried sick.” Jenna plunked her suitcase down on the bed, perilously close to Elizabeth’s pillow.
Elizabeth, curled among the blue brocade covers with Bliss and all four Border terriers, lifted her head. The barest hint of sunrise drifted in through the lace curtains of the Barrows’ guest room. “Jenna, when did you get back?”
“Just now. Henry brought me.” She frowned down at Elizabeth. “Are you still wearing that gown? Look at it! It’s going to be ruined.”
As far as Elizabeth was concerned, a ruined Marchesa gown was the least of her worries. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
Jenna sank down on the bed. “Lizzy, what happened? You ran out of the ballroom, and the next thing I know, the butler tells me you left in a cab.”
The cab. Elizabeth barely remembered climbing inside, clutching Bliss and her hastily packed overnight bag. The ride back to London had cost her over two hundred British pounds. She didn’t even want to think about how much that was in U.S. dollars. She didn’t care. She hadn’t for a moment considered sticking around to ride home with Donovan. Not after all that had gone wrong.
“Lizzy, Donovan is a mess. What happened between you two? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what happened.” Jenna sighed.
She closed her eyes. This part was so difficult to talk about. “Markham was there.”
“I know. I saw him.” Jenna rested her hand on Elizabeth’s arm. “I also saw Donovan pound him into the ground with his own blue-blooded hands.”
“Did that really happen?” Elizabeth remembered Donovan mentioning something about Markham being flat on his back in the ballroom, but she wasn’t entirely sure how he’d ended up that way. “I wasn’t around to see that part.”
“Well, it’s all over the Daily Mail. They even have a piece about Helena being publicly expelled from Chadwicke. Would you like to see it?” Jenna pulled a newspaper from the side pocket of her bag.
“No. Absolutely not.” Elizabeth had seen enough of the Daily Mail to last a lifetime. “Please tell me I’m not in it this time.”
Jenna shook her head. “You’re not.”
Elizabeth couldn’t help but wonder how she’d escaped mention after all that had transpired at Chadwicke. Had it been Donovan’s doing? Had he kept her name out of the press, as he’d promised?
“You missed it. Markham crumpling to the ground was something to see. Donovan could have sold tickets.” Jenna laughed. “Oh, wait, I forgot. He doesn’t need the money, since he’s richer than God.”
Elizabeth sighed and slumped back into the pillows.
Jenna seized on the gesture at once. “No. Do not tell me that’s what this is about. You ran away because Donovan is rich? Seriously? I thought you’d moved past this.”
“I did.” A lie, if she’d ever uttered one before. “Besides, that’s not why I left. I left because Donovan asked me to marry him, and I said no.”
Jenna’s eyes widened, but all in all, she didn’t look quite as surprised as Elizabeth expected she would. That was odd.
“He asked you to marry him? And you said no?” Jenna asked quietly. Calmly. Too calmly, really.
“That’s pretty much how it went.” Elizabeth fiddled with the rhinestone belt of her ball gown. What was she doing still wearing the thing? She was beginning to feel like some perverse version of Cinderella.
Except she’d left something far more valuable behind than a glass slipper. Elizabeth’s chest felt hollow, scraped from the inside out, as though she’d run away from Chadwicke without a sizable piece of her heart.
“Tell me something, Lizzy.” Jenna, more appropriately clad in jeans and a fuzzy oatmeal-colored sweater, leaned forward and rested her hands on Elizabeth’s shoulders. She looked directly into her eyes. “Do you love him?”
It was the question Elizabeth had been afraid to ask herself since the day Donovan had taken her to Harrods.
Her throat grew dry. Her head pounded. “Yes. I mean, no. I mean, I don’t know.” She couldn’t think. It was all so confusing. “I’m afraid he asked me for all the wrong reasons.”
Or maybe she was just afraid, period. Like Donovan had said.
Jenna sighed and squeezed Elizabeth’s hand. “I need to tell you something.”
Her words, coupled with the serious look on her face, caused Elizabeth to blink and attempt to shake the fog from her head. She tried to focus all her attention on her sister, on the present, but she still felt as though she were only partially there.
Part of her—the best part, possibly—was still back in the garden at Chadwicke. With Donovan.
She blinked and met Jenna’s worried gaze. “What is it?”
The question had barely left Elizabeth’s mouth when Jenna’s lips curved into a bashful smile. “This is the worst timing ever. Please don’t be upset, but I just can’t keep this a secret from you.”
Elizabeth frowned. “Jenna? You’re scaring me.”
“Don’t be scared.” Jenna grinned. It was then Elizabeth noticed her sister’s blue eyes were positively dancing. In fact, she had a glow about her—a sweet animation to her that made her look more beautiful than Elizabeth had ever seen her. “It’s good news.”
“Tell me, please.” Elizabeth forced a smile. She had a sudden premonition where this was going. But surely she was wrong. It was far too soon, ridiculously too fast...
“Henry and I are engaged,” she said.
Apparently it wasn’t too fast.
Elizabeth was shocked into silence at the news. Henry and Jenna engaged? How had this happened? She and Donovan had been vexing one another for weeks, drawn to one another, yet both reluctant to admit it. And somehow, in half that amount of time, Jenna and Henry had fallen in love and become engaged. It didn’t seem possible.
How could affairs of the heart be so easy for some and at the same time so perplexing for others? Elizabeth found it quite baffling and, if she were truthful, a touch heartbreaking.
“I’m sorry.” Jenna bit her lip apologetically and shook her head. “Like I said, the timing is just awful. But I had to tell you.”
If ever there was a time to put on a happy face, it was now. Elizabeth wasn’t about to say or do anything to take away her sister’s happiness. She beamed as if her life depended on it. “Don’t be silly. And don’t you dare apologize.”
Elizabeth swallowed around the lump in her throat, wanting to say more. But she didn’t trust herself to speak.
“I know it seems sudden.” Jenna smiled a beatific smile. “But it feels right. It really does.”
Elizabeth blinked back a few tears, took a deep breath and gathered herself together. “Of course it does. You’re in love. It’s wonderful news. I couldn’t be happier for you. Honestly.”
Jenna’s smile wavered. She peered intently at Elizabeth. “You’re in love with him. I can tell. You’re in love with Donovan Darcy.”
This time it wasn’t a question.
“It doesn’t matter how I feel about him, Jenna.” Elizabeth shook her head. She refused to believe she was in love with D
onovan. “He doesn’t love me.”
Jenna blinked. “Wait a minute. He asked you to marry him, but he never told you he loves you?”
“No, he told me,” Elizabeth whispered. “But it was too little, too late.”
“You want to know if he loves you? If you love him? You want to know if he proposed to you for all the right reasons? Maybe this will give you the answers you’re looking for.” Jenna slipped her hands into the pocket of her sweater and pulled out an envelope.
Elizabeth’s name, written on the outside in Donovan’s careful penmanship, taunted her, daring her to open it. She reached for it, then drew her fingers back.
“Go ahead. Take it. He asked me to deliver it to you.” Jenna set the envelope on the bed and stood. “I’ll let you read it in private.”
Elizabeth stared at the envelope for a long moment after Jenna had left the room, both terrified and eager to read its contents. When at last she opened it, the sound of the thick paper tearing was deafening.
She scooped Bliss into her lap and held on to the dog for moral support as she unfolded a single page. It was dated from Chadwicke, at two o’clock in the morning.
My dearest Elizabeth,
You’ve only been gone from Chadwicke a matter of hours and already the magic that swept over this old estate with your arrival has vanished, leaving me alone with nothing but my thoughts.
I’m sorry I hurt you, Elizabeth. More sorry than I can say. And I apologize for the pain inflicted on you by Helena. I want you to know that I will never allow her to be in a position to hurt you again. And as for Grant Markham...let’s just say he’s tending to more than a bruised ego.
As much as the actions of Helena and Markham added to your distress, I realize the bulk of the blame for your hasty departure rests squarely on my shoulders.
I went about the proposal entirely the wrong way. What I should have said from the beginning, and what I mean with all my heart, is that I love you. Quite ardently so. Yes, we come from different backgrounds. And yes, the thought of Grant Markham taking anything from you sent my head spinning. But the truth is my head started spinning the moment I first laid eyes on you back in America. I’ve loved you from the moment I met you.
