by Eva Devon
She choked on a sob. She would not break down in front of George. She would not.
Suddenly, George reached out and stroked a lock of her hair back from her face. “Marry me, damn it.”
That gentle gesture was nearly her undoing, made all the worse for knowing she could not let him proceed with his intent. “I cannot, George.”
“Even now?” he asked softly. “You’d rather throw your lot in with him, who you do not love, rather than me who you do not like?”
“I am a scandal,” she bit out. “I’m everything you despise.”
“The devil you are, Eglantine,” he replied, his voice rough. “You’re my friend and I’ll not see you used like this.” His chest rose and fell as if he were bracing himself. “I. . . I love you.”
Her heart broke then. He was so kind. It nearly killed her how kind he truly was. “You say it so well.”
He leaned forward. “I mean it.”
“I wish I could believe you.” She shook her head, forcing herself not to give in to the temptation to allow him to rescue her. “Your heart is too good. I won’t let you save me, George. Not when it would crush all that you’ve worked for. I know how important your honor is to you.”
A look of pure desperation crossed his face. “It is not more important than you, Eglantine.”
“Yes. Yes, it is,” she burst out, hating that it had come to this. “I have been very foolish, I think.”
“You’ve been determined and loyal to yourself,” he countered.
It was so tempting to give in and drag him down. But she wouldn’t let him do it. He would grow to hate her if she did. “And now I must be loyal to my friend and my family.”
“You can’t,” he urged.
“It is I who is saving you now, George.” She sought his gaze now, determined that he should understand. “I won’t let you throw yourself away.”
Gently, he took her hands in his. “You cannot mean this. I never meant to make you believe my dukedom was so important.”
“The Harley line has always been the most important thing to you,” she said softly. “It is very important. You? You change the world for the better every day because you make your power so unblemished.” She drew in a steadying breath, knowing she needed to send him away, but before she could stop herself she confessed, “And George, I love you for all you do.”
“You love me?” he echoed.
“How can I not?” she asked. She could not take it back. “I think I always have. It was why I could not marry you without mutual esteem. But you are the greatest man I know. An honorable man. A good man. I will not tear you down with this.”
“Eglantine—”
“No, George,” she cut in. If she allowed herself to listen too long, she would give in. “I know the price I have to pay now. I was a fool to think I could be different than all the ladies imprisoned by society.”
Despair creased his beautiful face. “Eglantine, don’t—”
Standing abruptly, she pulled her hands away. “Thank you, George. For being so good. And it is because of that, that I must say no to you.” She paused. “Promise me you will be the greatest duke England has ever known. Promise me that.”
Only, he did not promise, he merely stared, adrift as she rushed from the room. As she crushed all her own hopes and dreams, she prayed it would be worth it. For she could not crush him and all that he’d worked for, too. No. If she truly loved him, she would let him go to be the duke he was meant to be.
Chapter 25
“We could just kill him,” Richard Heath said casually.
George considered those words. He’d liked Richard Heath on first meeting the man. By God, now he liked him more. For he’d like nothing better than to skewer Haven in some back alley. Honor be damned.
He stared at the rough man who made murder sound so tempting.
Not just any man was admitted to the inner sanctuary of Number 79, but Heath had gained admittance. A commoner and former thief, he seemed the antithesis of the men sitting in the highest room of the house.
But Heath belonged. He’d done damned good work for George and his friends.
And Heath certainly had the murderous acquaintances to back up his dark suggestion.
Drake tilted his brandy glass, contemplating the hue. “Sounds like a damned good idea. I’ve never been involved in a conspiracy before. Surely, it’s time to try something new.”
George ground his teeth. They all knew what had befallen Eglantine now. There had been no reason to hide it and he’d needed the consolation of speaking the hellish words aloud.
He loved Eglantine Trewstowe and he was losing her.
“It would be fairly easy,” Heath mused. “No doubt, he’ll be back at my club as soon as he has funds. A walk down one of the darker alleys could easily see him gutted and left in the scum.”
“She’d make a grand widow,” Royland said.
“She’d still have married him,” replied George, the very idea coating him in horror.
“It does not seem we can stop her,” said Raventon from beside the fire. “You certainly tried.”
But now, sitting here, in his wealth, and ease and privilege, he did not feel as if he had tried at all. She had easily gotten rid of him, choosing martyrdom. And he’d just. . . sat there and let her leave the room, urging him to choose greatness.
Whilst she was left to rot in misery.
“Where the devil is Ardore now, in any case?” Raventon asked. “He’d have an excellent suggestion.”
George ground his teeth. The Scotsman did have a way of looking at the world that was vastly different than his English counterparts. No doubt, Ardore would suggest he simply kidnap Eglantine and hold her in a castle until everyone had their wits back. He could not imagine Eglantine suffering such a thing.
He pounded a fist against his chair arm. “Damnation. Why is the heart so stupid? Could I not have learned before tragedy struck?”
“You’re stubborn as an ox,” Drake drawled. “It’s endearing but you were never going to understand what she meant to you until you’d truly lost her.”
George stared at his friend, appalled by the accurate summation of his character. “I’m an utter arse.”
“An ox,” corrected Drake.
He gave his friend a ball-crushing stare. “I’ve let her down,” he rasped.
Heath nodded. “It seems there’s nothing for it. She’s determined to marry him?”
“Why doesn’t she just go to Italy?” Raventon asked. “Lots of marvelously scandalous people there.”
“For that reason,” George bit out, wishing he could hit something to dispel the rage inside him. “She’s trying not to ruin her family.”
“God, it’s difficult to be a woman,” Royland growled.
George nodded. He’d only recently truly come to understand that and it made him wish to smash all the rules that made life intolerable for women. The world was riddled with injustice but women seemed to bear the brunt.
“I cannot resign myself to this,” George spat out. “She is the most glorious person I have ever known. She’s kind, so kind, and full of wit, and love for the world. And I. . .”
All his friends waited, silently.
“I have thrown all of that away for a vow.”
Royland leaned forward, bridging his fingers “And what was that, old boy?”
“To be a great duke,” George said tightly, the pain of his father’s death never really far away. “To make my father proud.”
Drake nodded.
But then Heath, who was calmly sipping his brandy, asked, “And what do you think would make your father proud?”
George frowned and turned to the club owner. “I beg your pardon?”
Heath cocked his head to the side. “I never knew my father but you seem to think very highly of yours. Was he a cold man?”
George rankled at the close questioning, but he doubted Heath was asking without reason. So, he allowed it. “He was not.”
“W
ell,” Heath gestured around the room. “Would this make him proud? The lot of us sitting about, bemoaning fate, drinking, and letting the lady sacrifice herself?”
“It would not,” George bit out, shame washing over him. “Devil take it.”
Once again, he felt his father cradled in his arms. His father had believed he was a good man, with a good heart. “He’d be appalled,” George whispered.
Heath leveled him with a hard look. “There you go then, Your Grace.”
George shook his head. “Heath, be plain. My mind is not in a state to make sense of vague proclamations.”
A wicked smile tilted Heath’s lips. “Do something to make your father proud.”
Those words seemed to penetrate the fog of his despair and, as it did, an idea came to him. It was wild. It was scandalous. And it was exactly the sort of thing that the great dukes of old, the men his father most admired, would have done.
Yes, he would do his father proud, come rack or ruin. And nothing would stand in his way.
Chapter 26
The coach rolled to a halt before the small church close to the city. Its spire, indicating it had been built by Wren after the Great Fire, pierced the late summer sky.
Autumn was coming. Soon, all the warmth would be swept away, replaced by cold winds and frigid rain.
Eglantine sat rigid. Alone.
She had not let her mother ride with her. She’d proclaimed that she’d needed this time to prepare herself for what they were about to do.
Because after a long conversation with her father and a sleepless night, it had become clear to her what had to transpire.
Resignation left her as emotionless as stone.
The footman opened the door and she drew in a steadying breath. She stared at the pavement. This would be the most terrifying moment of her life.
She lifted her gaze.
Her mother and father had departed just before her and they were waiting for her before the church. They looked stalwart, proud and determined. None of them had slept.
In all her life, she’d never felt more fortunate to have such unique and remarkable parents who loved and supported her so entirely.
Against tradition, Haven was standing outside, too, his face one of triumph. Which would make this simpler at the very least.
Good Lord, he was a villain.
If she could have, she would have spat upon him.
A small, curious crowd had gathered. Though they had tried to keep the service quiet, somehow word had gotten out about the small wedding. No doubt, it had been Haven, ensuring she behaved.
If he thought she was going to behave, he was going to be a very shocked man, indeed.
She descended from the coach and walked towards her father.
The events of the last days had aged him but he gave her an encouraging nod, and she felt bolstered.
This was the moment. The moment she and her mother and father had been waiting for. They’d discussed it. Planned it, and were ready. It had been a long, difficult night, making this decision. But it was the right one.
Head held high, she strode to meet the small party.
Haven held out his arm.
Fighting a wince of disgust, she took it. She hated the feel of her hand on his black morning coat. But it would be worth it.
“So good of you to do the honorable thing,” her father said tightly to the man who had ruined his daughter.
“Of course, my lord,” Haven said, his face no longer riddled with anger and poison. He looked positively confident. “I do so care for Eglantine.”
“As you must,” her father replied gravely, “given she comes to you with no money.”
Haven stopped.
His arm tightened beneath her touch and she held her breath.
“I beg your pardon?” Haven demanded.
Her father stood firm. “You will not receive a penny of mine for your nefarious deeds.”
“I?” Haven choked. “Need I remind you, your daughter is a scandal? Surely, you know we must wed.”
“So wed,” her father bit out. “But you will get nothing.”
Haven paled, his confidence wavering. “You cannot be serious.”
She stood still, waiting for the devil inside Haven to break. The devil she’d seen the night he’d attacked her.
“Oh, yes,” her father said. “I’ve always fancied living on the Continent. The whole family could use the change. The stench of scandal will be far away from us. And the views alone will be worth defeating the likes of you.”
Haven’s gaze darted to each one of them. “But—you would leave your daughter impoverished. Eglantine, speak to your father.”
Eglantine narrowed her gaze. “Oh, I have. He and I are agreed.” She smiled coldly. “It turns out, I am a clever girl, after all, Lord Haven.”
She took a step towards the church. “Now shall we?” She paused. “Or do you suddenly feel not up to the task?”
“You know I can’t beg off,” he hissed, his body shaking.
“Breach of promise,” her father said, nodding sagely.
The tension about them increased and the crowd began to titter at the drama unfolding.
“Terrible for you,” her mother drawled coldly. “Whatever will you do?”
“You’ve done this to humiliate me,” Haven sneered. “You know I can’t marry without money.”
“Yes,” agreed Eglantine. “I want you to know you can never do this to another lady again.”
Haven wrenched his arm away. “Release me then and live with the scandal.”
She smiled icily. “With all my heart.”
Just as Haven began to back away from her and her parents, the sound of horse hooves pounded down the cobbled road.
Not one horse, but several, at breakneck pace.
Unbidden, she faced the noise and her heart bolted into her heart.
George Cornwall, Duke of Harley, rode at the head of a group of horsemen, his face as dark as thunder.
People quickly made way for the men and as soon as they were within a few feet, George pulled up the reins of his stallion. It reared onto its hind legs, its fore legs pawing the air.
He jumped down easily and passed the reins to the Duke of Drake who, like the other men behind George, had pulled up his stallion.
George strode forward. His long, dark riding coat flying behind him.
“Lady Eglantine Trewstowe,” he declared loudly for all to hear. “I love you and I call upon you to reject this man and choose happiness.”
Her mouth dropped. The world vanished at the sight of him and the sound of his wild words.
She had done everything in her power to protect George from her scandal but he was throwing himself headlong into it now.
“This is all your doing, isn’t it?” Haven snapped at George. “You already have everything you bas—”
George’s fist shot out and cracked into Haven’s jaw. The man stumbled backward.
Haven glanced at the group of men, panic whitening his face.
A tall, hard man came forward. His handsomeness was undeniable but there was something frightening about his dark features. “Haven, I’m calling in your markers.”
“I don’t have the blunt, Heath,” Lord Haven spat out. “Her father’s left her penniless.”
Her father took a step forward. “Do you truly believe I could give my child to the likes of you?”
“You really thought me helpless, did you not?” Eglantine said, stunned at the man’s audacity and selfishness.
“And yes,” George replied, “I have everything. Everything but the woman I love. You didn’t really think I’d let you ruin her life did you?” George said in a voice so low, it positively rumbled. “No one is ruining Eglantine’s life. But I am ruining yours.”
“We’ll arrange a particularly nasty room for you in The Fleet,” Heath drawled.
“You c-can’t!” Haven yelled, backing away like a cornered rat.
It was astounding, the difference in the ma
n. Gone was the cool, confident man quoting Byron. He’d been replaced by a quivering coward. A vicious, selfish fool.
Suddenly, George turned to her as if Haven did not exist at all.
“You said, you might marry me if I loved you,” George began, his entire focus on her, ignoring the crowd about them. “You didn’t believe me when I finally said it. So, I knew I had to show it. I want the world to know,” he gestured to the people who were watching, riveted.
Then, much to her amazement, he knelt on the pavement. “Eglantine Trewstowe, I couldn’t give a devil’s damn about a scandal. I’m a duke. My family has had a dukedom for two hundred years. If we can weather a revolution, a little scandal is nothing. Now, you listen to me. I’ve been an arse. A blockheaded fool who thought perfection was what my father wanted on his deathbed. But he told me that I had a good heart and that I would be a good duke. And having a good heart, and being a good duke means being a man who believes in something. . . and Eglantine, I believe in you. I believe in the happiness that we can make together.”
Tears stung her eyes as his words flowed over her. It was almost impossible to believe but there was no denying what he was doing. He was showing the world that he loved her more than any imagined propriety, any distant lineage, any puffed up ideas about what it meant to be a duke. “Oh, George. . . you have always been perfect to me.”
“Is that a yes?” he all but whispered.
She nodded, barely able to believe how quickly things had turned. “Yes. If you’ll have someone as stubborn as me.”
“I wouldn’t want you any other way,” he said, a relieved smile transforming his face. “If you were different than you are, I would have learned nothing about myself.”
George turned to her parents. “Do you consent?”
Both her mother and father were standing awestruck. Their entire lives had transformed again in a moment.
But her father, who was beginning to understand that the tragedy was lifting from them, finally said, “Eglantine has said yes, and she seems most happy about it. There is nothing else to say.”
“Of course we consent, dear boy,” her mother said, tears of relief and happiness in her eyes.
