by Kim Bowman
He couldn't just walk away from her. But he couldn't allow Delia's situation to languish a moment more either. He rubbed her cheek with his knuckles then touched his lips to her forehead. "Trust me."
Not waiting for an answer, he continued to the parlor. Definitely a room for the ladies. Pink-and-yellow flowered wallpaper decorated every wall, heavy draperies of the same pattern hung from floor to ceiling at the bay windows, an Oriental rug with a similar design covered most of the floor, and the two high-back chairs and sofa were covered in a pale blue silk.
His prey sat huddled together on the couch. McDaniel rose slowly, his hand resting on a sobbing Delia's shoulder. She lifted her blotchy, tear-stained cheeks, and Donovan's helpless fear nearly brought him to his knees.
That look. He'd seen that same pained look slashed across her face. Those eyes. The same loss and misery had clouded her eyes right before she'd run off to America, only to die.
He wouldn't make the same mistake again. If he did, Past Duke would probably curse him to repeat this blasted holiday over and over until he got it right.
The air shifted ever so slightly, and a warm prickling caressed the right side of his body. He glanced sideways. Tess smiled at him and squeezed his arm, giving him the reassurance he needed.
Did Delia love McDaniel as much as Donovan did Tess? She'd certainly gone to extreme lengths to be with the man, had even… died. His sister had been so devastated to learn the man had married another that she'd ended up on a ship that had sunk. The realization cut through him like a jagged knife. What if he agreed to let them marry and McDaniel again broke her heart?
"Sometimes the right decision isn't always the best decision."
He'd made what he'd thought had been the right choice the first time in 1812. The one his father would have made. It had caused him to lose his sister and the woman he loved. So had it been the best decision? One worth repeating? He'd been helpless to save Delia before. But now…
Donovan strode forward, not quite certain how to start or what to say. Not at all sure what he should do.
McDaniel's face blanched. His eye had swollen shut and had already turned a deep purple. "I'm completely to blame for what happened. I should have stayed away as you request—"
"Yes, you should have. I made myself quite clear." Donovan crossed his arms. "I'm of the same mind, and have no intention of letting the fact that you left the ball with her sway my decision."
McDaniel bent and retrieved his hat and gloves from the sofa. "I understa—"
Delia jumped to her feet. "No!" She glared at Donovan, contempt clear in her eyes. "I'll never forgive you for this. I hate you."
Tess let out a gasp. "Delia."
"And I'll spend the next eight years hating myself more than you ever could." Had he just said that out loud?
The room fell silent. Delia and McDaniel furrowed their brows. They exchanged a look that clearly said they thought he'd gone daft. I'm inclined to agree.
Donovan's heart stuck in his throat, making speech impossible. His tattered nerves had his whole body twitching. Would this blasted night never end? And what would he find when it did? He knew what he'd find if he didn't allow Delia to marry McDaniel. And that was a future he had no intention of returning to.
Still unable to speak, he closed the distance between him and his sister and pulled her into his arms. In the end, keeping her alive was all that mattered.
"Donovan, I can't breathe."
"Oh… sorry." He released her, a bit shocked at himself for such an emotional reaction. "Er… um… as I was saying, I'm of the same mind. But I find myself in an awkward predicament. I find I'm also no longer able to forbid you two from marrying."
Delia's hand went to her chest and she whipped her head back and forth between him and McDaniel. Hope danced in her eyes, lighting up her face. "W-we can marry?"
"I haven't agreed to that. Not yet. I'm just willing to withdraw my rejection of the marriage for now. I'll make my final decision after I speak with McDani—"
Delia squealed and flung her arms around his neck. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."
"Yes, your grace. Thank you," McDaniel said, a splitting grin covering his whole face.
"Don't be so quick to thank me. You haven't heard my conditions yet." He set Delia away from him and locked eyes with her. "And don't think you've gotten out of the tongue-lashing you deserve, young lady. It was very foolish of you to run off tonight." A part of him wanted to tell her that one day she ran off and never came back, but how? How could he tell her such a horrific thing? He prayed to God he never had to hear that news again. If that meant he had to let her marry McDaniel, then the choice was easy.
Her face turned as red as her dress, and she lowered her head. "I-I know. I'm sorry."
"I don't want you to get the notion that you've somehow forced my hand and that's why I'm willing to reconsider." I'm doing this to save your life.
Delia's only answer was to nod.
"McDaniel, I'll have a word in private in my study." Donovan gestured for the young man to follow him from the room.
McDaniel bowed. "Of course, your grace." He touched Delia's arm. A deep affection swam in the man's eyes. In that moment, nothing else mattered. McDaniel was offering his sister something worth more than all the riches in the world. He truly loved her.
Donovan finally understood. This fourth son of an earl, with nothing more to offer Delia than the salary of a navy lieutenant, would provide a more secure future for her than Daphne and Diana had in loveless marriages.
Because that's what they had… he knew that now, saw it for what it was.
He turned to escorted McDaniel to his study, and his gaze landed on Tess. Her eyes tugged his heart into a tender embrace, and warmth enveloped him. He'd never experienced such a comforting assurance with anyone but her. Could that be why he'd never married?
Donovan stopped in front of her and took her hands in his. "Thank you."
She furrowed her brow and tilted her head sideways. The tiny smile on her lips was enough to bring out the dimples in her cheeks. "I-I don't understand…"
He smiled and brought her hand to his lips for a kiss. "When I'm finished speaking with McDaniel, there are some things I need to say to you…" He broke off, unable to get past the emotion in his throat.
She touched his face with her other hand. Liquid heat pooled in the pit of his stomach. "Of course," she whispered softly.
Reluctantly, he released her, but didn't break contact until he had to. Never wanted to let her go again. He knew that now.
Once inside the study, Donovan sat behind his desk and motioned to the chair beside it.
"Sit."
McDaniel sank slowly into the chair. "I want you to know I only followed Delia because I felt I had no choice. My only intention was to see her home safely; I never touched her."
Donovan stared at him in silence, enjoying, just a bit, how the uncomfortable quiet caused McDaniel to squirm. After a few moments — probably what seemed an eternity to the young man — he leaned back and crossed his arms.
"Do you love my sister?"
McDaniel sat up straighter and looked Donovan in the eyes. "Yes, with all my heart."
"Enough to give up your naval career?"
Obviously taken aback, McDaniel blinked several times and furrowed his brow. "O-of course, if that's what you require. But I won't marry her if I can't give her a secure future. I love her too much to give her anything but stability."
Donovan gave him a curt nod. "That brings me to my next question. Do you agree to never touch Delia's inheritance?"
"Yes. You have my word. Her money will be her own."
Donovan opened the desk draw and retrieved a sheet of folded foolscap, a pen knife, and a stick of sealing wax. Using the knife, he slit the paper in two. "I'm going to write my friend Captain Alexander Fleming. He has connections with the port admiral in Devonport, and I'm going to request that he help secure you a position there." Donovan blew on the missive t
o ensure the ink was dry and then folded it. With care, he warmed the wax over the candle then sealed the letter with his ducal stamp.
"Th-thank you, your grace."
"I'm also going to write you a personal letter of recommendation." When finished, he sealed the second letter and then handed it to McDaniel. "I believe Captain Fleming is in port, so I'll have a messenger deliver his letter immediately. Once I receive his response, I'll send you word to report to the port admiral with my reference."
A smile spread across McDaniel's face as he took the missive with a shaky hand. A comical expression, considering his swollen, bruised eye. But the happiness was unmistakable. "I can't begin to repay you for such a gesture, your grace."
"You can repay me by taking care of my sister and never making me regret I went against my better judgment." Please let this be the right decision. Please let Delia stay safe and happy.
"I swear it." McDaniel's tone said he meant it with all his heart.
Donovan pulled the cord behind his desk. Almost before his hand released it, Lawrence opened the door.
"Give me a few moments and then show Miss Warren in. Make sure the carriage is ready for me to see her home once I've spoken with her," Donovan said, subtly dismissing the young man.
"Thank you again, your grace." McDaniel stood, bowed, and headed for the door.
"McDaniel!"
He froze and turned slowly.
"There is one more thing. I'll have your word that you will never take Delia anywhere that requires travelling by water."
His features contorted in confusion. "I-I beg your pardon?"
"Your word. Or I won't permit you to marry her."
Without hesitation, and without losing the joy in his face, McDaniel nodded. "You have my word. Thank you."
Lawrence opened the door wider ahead of McDaniel. Delia and Tess stood in the hall, holding each other. His sister straightened and glanced first at McDaniel then at him. A mixture of anticipation and wishfulness filled her beautiful face with the slightest glimmer of light. But when he nodded at her, the faint glow burst into a sun-bright shine.
Delia squealed and threw her arms around McDaniel. She smiled at Donovan and mouthed, "Thank you."
His heart fluttered as if to say, No, thank you.
Whole-hearted approval lit Tess's smile. A soft, almost affectionate radiance filled her sapphire eyes, sending a jolt of love through his body.
An ecstatic Delia hauled Tess into a hug, breaking their moment. Then Lawrence finished closing the door.
Donovan let out a sigh of relief. He covered his face with his hands. The heavy burden that had pressed against his heart for the past eight years had all but diminished. He breathed easier than he had in a long time. More amazing, the worry, the brutal terror that he'd wake to find his sister was still dead had all but disappeared.
What an amazing feeling! His heart was so light he seemed to almost float with the giddy sensation.
"Why the softening of your heart?"
Donovan started and whipped around, sending a sharp pain through his head. He winced and touched the spot where the chair had made contact. "I'm still of a mind that McDaniel isn't good enough for Delia. But I've ensured she won't be getting on ships bound for America. I pray that's enough to spare her life."
Past Duke walked up beside him. "Ah, so your hope is that she'll come to her senses and break her engagement to the young man. That's a nasty bump. Allow me to fix it for you."
Before Donovan could object, Past Duke covered the injury with his hands. A warm tingle pricked at his head, relieving some of the throbbing pressure. After a few seconds, the pain had completely subsided.
"How did you do that?"
The other him chuckled. "I've made it possible for you to return eight years into the past and you're astounded I can heal a little bump."
Donovan smiled and stood. The heavy bonds that had held his heart captive for so long had loosened, and he knew a moment of peace he hadn't for years. "I see your point. Now do go away. Tess will be joining me any moment, and I really don't think I can explain how there are two of me here."
The laughter vanished from Past Duke's face. "The time to depart is at hand. We must make haste and return you to Christmas Eve 1820 before midnight."
Donovan bristled. "Not until I speak with Tess. I have to tell her how much I love her."
Past Duke shook his head. Remorse darkened his eyes. "I'm sorry, but you cannot. It's not your place. You cannot cause the course of the future to be departed from."
What the deuce did that mean? That he wouldn't marry Tess? That he couldn't, or he'd ruin everything? Well, devil take him if he'd stand for that.
Past Duke reached for him. Donovan recoiled and backed away. "Curse you! You're the one who forced me to come back here. You can't make me leave. I haven't fixed everything yet. I need more time."
The clock began chiming, and his heartbeat quickened. How many rings did that make? Three? Four?
Tears glistened in the other duke's eyes. "If you change even an instance of the future that was not meant to be, then all of this will have been for naught."
Ding.
"I can't leave. Not now. I have to speak with Tess."
Dong.
Past Duke advanced on him so fast Donovan didn't have time to react. The squeezing sensation on his heart pitched him forward and he clutched his chest. The room spun around him, and in his agony — from being refused the chance to see Tess one last time or from the apparition's tight grip, he wasn't sure — he could no longer suck air into his lungs.
Ding.
Dong.
Ding.
Dong.
The swirling grew faster, and then he ceased to know anything.
Chapter Ten
December 24, 1820
Donovan jerked to alertness. His breath came in shallow gasps and he had to force the air down his throat. He was afraid to speak, afraid to move for fear time would resume and he'd find it had all been a dream and that the warm joyful feelings he'd experienced had been but an illusion.
He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them and gazed around the study cautiously. The bright light from the oil lamps and candles made his eyes ache, and it took several seconds before he could see the room clearly.
The chair opposite now had a rose and white flowery pattern. The black leather was gone from his as well. A sitting chair with the same design, along with a small table, sat in front of the bay window. Greenery lined the mantel, the smell of evergreen and pine heavy in the air.
Frantically, he searched his memory but remembered nothing. It was as if his thoughts had been wiped away. The only thing in his mind was darkness.
I've no control of my mind. This cannot be.
He stood to better survey the room. A flash of burgundy caught his attention. Past Duke sat on the edge of the desk, an amused light gleaming in his eyes.
The apparition chuckled. "Give it a few moments and it will all come back to you."
Donovan clenched his fist and let out a curse. "You!" In three strides he was on the past duke, grabbing the lapels of his tailcoat and shaking the man so violently the desk creaked. "Tess. What happened to her? Why did you take me away before I could apologize? Before I could see her one last time?"
The candle on the desk rocked, sending wax flying onto some of the papers. Past Duke alternated between grabbing the edge of the desk and trying to break Donovan's hold on him.
"If — you — look — your hand… see?" The specter fumbled off the side of the desk. The momentum was enough to break Donovan's hold. Past Duke straightened and smoothed down his tailcoat front.
Donovan advanced on him, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up. When he managed to grab his other self by the neck, he'd snap it like sealing wax on an envelope. "I intend to enjoy pushing your teeth to the back of your throat."
Past him sidled around the desk, out of reach. "If you would just listen to me for a moment, I can explain. You're just overwrought fro
m the time travel. I assure you, beating yourself to a pulp will not make you feel better. Being your own adversary will serve no purpose."
"I'm willing to take that chance." Donovan lunged for Past Duke, grabbing nothing but air. "Blasted apparition."
"I could say the same. Why do you insist on making things more difficult than necessary?" Past Duke propped his right arm on the back of one of the high-back chairs. He let out an exaggerated sigh, lifted his left hand, and wiggled his ring finger.
A gold band glistened in the firelight.
Instinctively, Donovan glanced at his own hand. He, too, wore a ring on his left hand… a wedding band.
"I-I-I don't understand." Dare he hope…
"Perhaps if you stopped trying to cause me bodily harm and let me explain—"
"I thought you said I couldn't change the future."
"Well… you didn't change it. You fixed it. There is a difference, you know."
Shock and amazement washed over him. Had he truly changed things? "How do I explain this to everyone?"
Past Duke shrugged. "Explain what? There's nothing to explain. You set things right, and now the future is as it should be. A pity though… living such an amazing adventure yet having no one to share it with. John and Elizabeth Dickens' son Charles loves a good tale. His imagination is remarkable. He could turn this into quite a parody."
Donovan harrumphed. "If I start babbling nonsense about returning to the past, everyone will think I've gone daft. I'm still not certain I haven't." But he wanted to talk about it — needed to talk about it. Yet finding the words to explain it seemed an impossibility. Perhaps he would share the story with young Charles.
The other him rubbed his chin. "True. True. Best to keep it to yourself." He dropped his hands and bowed. "Well, it wasn't easy, but my work here is done. Have a care with our future, Donovan Ellis. I'm sure you have about as much interest in seeing me again as I have in seeing you."
The glow around Past Duke intensified, and he floated toward the bay window. "Wait!" Donovan yelled.
The beam of illumination grew brighter and the figure within it became dull, indiscernible. Then nothing.
