It was a potent fantasy. She could have all she wanted. All she had to do was trust him, turn herself over to him in the eyes of the law and the church and hope he would be as good as his word. Nothing would stop him if he wasn’t. In many ways he was above the law. Would any of it ever truly be hers again if she consented? He might mean to turn the mines over to her, but it would be his name on the deeds once they married. Should he, at any time, think to revoke her nominative ownership, he could take them from her.
Eaton would never do that.
She knew it in her gut and yet Detford’s doubting words haunted her still. Perhaps Eaton did want the mines for himself? What better way to acquire them than to woo them out of her, to make her promises and then not keep them?
* * *
He’d offered her the moon and the stars and the planets to boot and she was still going to refuse him. Not just refuse him, but leave him. The game hen lay like a leaden rock in his stomach. Had he misjudged his strategy? He’d thought Eliza would want a balance sheet for a proposal. She’d want to see the assets such an alliance brought her. She’d want to weigh it against the disadvantages, of which there was only one—albeit an enormous one. He’d known she would resist, but he’d never dreamed he would come out on the short end of her analysis. He’d thought he could overcome it.
Eliza moved from her seat, her peacock silk swishing as she crossed the garden. She’d been beautiful tonight at the table. He’d been so hopeful when the evening had begun, but he was less hopeful now. He’d never met a more stubborn, more independent woman than Eliza Blaxland. How awful that the two qualities he admired the most about her were the very ones keeping her from him. ‘Marriage is for ever, Eaton. It will last far longer than defeating Brenley.’
‘Need I remind you that marriage may be the only way to beat him?’ Eaton corrected. She was slipping away. If she wouldn’t do this for love, perhaps she’d see the sense in doing it for business, for her own safety. He needed to reason with her, not beg. Eliza responded to strength.
‘Eaton, I thank you for the offer. I wish it could be otherwise, but my definitive answer must be no.’ She was quiet and cool, the finality in her tone absolute, and his impatience slipped.
‘We are all that stands in his way, Eliza. Brenley will be dangerous if he thinks he’s cornered. Why can’t you see that?’ It was a growl, a yell. He was furious with her for not seeing the obvious and furious with himself for not being able to persuade her, for losing her despite his best efforts.
‘Why can’t you see that I don’t need another Miles Detford? You don’t need to sacrifice yourself by rescuing me. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll take my leave.’ Eliza’s tone was cold, her face blank as she picked up her skirts and walked out of the garden, taking all his hopes with her.
Eaton let her go. She’d all but slapped him in the face with her last remark, equating him with that snake. What was the point in chasing her down now? What would he say when he caught her that he hadn’t already said countless times over in so many different ways?
I love you.
He could not change what he could not give her nor could he change what she couldn’t give herself. He could not magically give her children. Tonight, he’d pushed her too far and this was the result. He could not erase her need for independence, her perception that marriage was about dependency, not love.
He did not know how long he stared at the doors leading inside, the very last space she’d occupied before she’d disappeared from his sight. It might have been hours or minutes. Time lost all meaning. What he did know was that he would see her everywhere, in everything. Every time he drank champagne he would see her as she was that night in the carriage. Every time he passed a mine, every time he stepped inside his school, his orangery. Every time a parakeet landed on his finger. No place would be safe. This was what happened when you let someone into the private parts of your life, into the corners of your soul.
He knew. This was what it had felt like to lose Richard Penlerick. Only that time, he’d been able to escape to the places that were his and take refuge. He couldn’t do that now. Eliza had been his refuge, someone he’d emotionally invested in in the absence of his mentor. He’d not meant to. In the beginning he’d not intended it to be that way. But Eliza wasn’t just any woman. She’d demanded more from him than a standard dalliance. Even then, it hadn’t been enough. She’d gone anyway and he was left with the torment of knowing she was still in the world. He might see her again by accident on the streets of Truro when he went there on business. He might meet her again at an event for the academy. There would be correspondence from her regarding her patronage. She would be with him in a hundred different ways, but she would always be apart. In this new, post-Eliza world, he could not touch her, could not draw her close for a kiss, could not spend an evening in her parlour, could not walk the beach with her. Tantalus in Hades reaching for his ever-elusive drink would have nothing on him. It was to be expected when one wagered one’s soul and lost.
‘Are you going to spend the whole night out here?’ Cassian stood in the doorway, blanket in hand. ‘I thought you might need this. It’s cold out.’
‘I hadn’t noticed.’ He noticed nothing but the pain that had taken up residence in his heart.
‘Where’s Mrs Blaxland?’ Cassian took a seat on the stone bench—Eliza’s bench, the place where he’d seen her watching the stars the night of the reception. Good lord, it was starting already.
‘She’s gone. I let her go.’ She would be at the dower house, getting ready for bed. He knew her ritual by heart. She would have tucked Sophie in and read her a story. Sophie would have asked for one more. They would have giggled together and blown out the lamp beside Sophie’s bed. He’d loved hearing that sound.
‘Did you...ask her?’ Cassian was trying to be subtle. It was not his strong suit.
‘Yes, damn it.’ Eaton’s temper flared, sorrow turning to anger. ‘I asked her to marry me. I gave her all the reasons, I made all the promises.’ He had to stop to keep his voice from breaking. He took a breath. ‘And it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough.’ He’d never felt more inadequate than he felt now, not even when the doctors had told him he would never sire children, never be able to carry out what was arguably a duke’s most important duty.
‘That’s not true,’ Cassian said resolutely. ‘You’ve always been enough for all of us, for your family, for me, for Ven, for Inigo, for the Trelevens, for Cade, for your tenants and for countless other people whose lives you’ve touched of which you’re not even aware.’
‘But not her, not the one woman I love, the woman I want to marry. I am not enough for her.’
‘That’s not true either. She just doesn’t see it.’ Cassian held his gaze. ‘Are you going to let her go? Or are you going to fight for her?’
‘I have been fighting for her.’
Cassian clapped him on the knee. ‘Then carry on. You’ve just made a minor miscalculation tonight, soldier. You thought this would be the end of the battle when it was really only the heart of the battle and the outcome could still go either way. You, my friend, need a flanking movement.’
‘No,’ Eaton countered. ‘I need to figure out how to go on without her. She has made her position clear.’ There had been life before Eliza, and there would be life after Eliza where nothing would be the same, not even him. He would be a shadow, a ghost of a man who’d once fallen in love.
Chapter Twenty-One
‘She means to divide us.’ Miles Detford scoffed at the letters lying open on the table. They’d each received one. ‘She has no proof. She just wants to scare us.’
‘Well, I’m scared,’ Isley Thorp replied honestly from his chair in Brenley’s study. ‘I could go to jail for this. It’s your fault, you know.’ He glared at Miles. ‘You’ve been paid well for your part in this, as I recall. You had three tasks in all of this: marry the widow, get the tunnel bu
ilt and take the fall if needed. You could at least manage to succeed at one of them.’
Miles sneered. ‘Why are we allowing her to get away with this? We keep talking about drastic measures, but we never take action.’
‘We distributed that pamphlet about her immoral character,’ Brenley reminded him. ‘No one will want to do business with her.’
Thorp laughed derisively. ‘A lot of good that did. Now we have the Duke of Bude in town.’ It was arguably the worst thing that could have happened, Miles acknowledged. He’d hoped the pamphlet would have caused Lynford to rethink his position as her champion, that Lynford would have chosen to distance himself. He hadn’t. He’d closed the distance instead. That was what worried Miles the most.
He, like Brenley, wasn’t afraid of the law. Bribes could work wondrous magic. But if they could not get hold of those mines, she would ruin Brenley’s monopoly and Miles could not afford that. He would lose a fortune. He’d made promises, taken out loans based on gambling on Brenley’s success. If he couldn’t pay, very soon his credit would be cut off. Invitations to certain circles would cease, opportunities to invest in lucrative ventures would become non-existent. Lynford would consign him to a slow death in a social hell. He’d worked too hard to get where he was to let that happen.
‘Lynford can’t support a woman who isn’t there to be supported,’ Detford growled. Enough with talk. It was time for action. ‘She marries me, or she...disappears. Perhaps I’ll take her down to assess progress on the new tunnel and put the proposal to her there. Anything can happen in a mine. Not everyone who goes in comes out again.’
Brenley nodded. Miles hadn’t worried about him liking the idea. Brenley liked anything that meant someone else was willing to do his dirty work, one more person to stand between him and the law. But Brenley wasn’t stupid. A dead Eliza had implications, too. ‘If she says yes, you’ll control the mines, Detford.’ He voiced the concern out loud, making it clear he wasn’t terribly interested in someone else having all that coveted stock. Miles had to go carefully here. Brenley might be an enemy in the making.
‘That is to your advantage. I want what you want,’ Miles assured him. It was true, for now. But this was a dog-eat-dog world. How long would that last? He’d cross that bridge later if Eliza Blaxland came out of the tunnel alive and ready to be a bride.
Brenley offered his approval. ‘Just be sure you get the job done if she says no. There can be no room for sentiment and it must be done soon.’ Yes, speed was of the essence. He and Brenley could agree on that. They needed to act before the new shareholders were in place.
Miles gave a grim, satisfied nod. ‘I’ll go tonight.’ One way or another, everything would be settled at last. This time he would make Eliza Blaxland a proposal she couldn’t refuse.
* * *
She’d refused Eaton. It was the only thought that had claimed her attention since the moment she’d left the garden. Eliza sat in the front parlour, half-heartedly listening to Sophie practise her piano as the afternoon faded into evening. A whole day gone and nothing accomplished, no decisions made. She hadn’t just refused Eaton. She’d hurt him. He’d told her he loved her. He’d been devastated last night despite his stoic show of strength to the contrary. When she’d not said the words in return, he’d not stopped fighting. Another man would have walked away and licked his wounds. But Eaton had come back for more. He’d opted to reason with her, to appeal to her pragmatic side. And she had wounded him twice. She’d equated him with Miles Detford.
She’d made a mess of something beautiful and well intentioned. His offer was nothing like Detford’s. She’d not seen it at the time. She’d been too busy protecting her independence. It had not been her intention to set him up for failure or to demean his offer. Quite the opposite. She’d wanted him to see that she loved him, too, enough to give him up, enough not to trap him into a marriage that would ultimately disappoint him. She’d wanted him to see reason as well, that two people should not marry because one of them relied on the other. It created a toxic cycle of dependency. Her mother had never been more helpless than when she was married. For all her independence, Eliza feared marriage would strip her freedom away, wear it down over time until she, too, was entirely dependent on a husband. It was a solid reason. She had no real protection of her independence under the law. So, why did she feel as if she’d made a terrible mistake? Why did she feel as though she’d thrown happiness off the cliffs of Porth Karrek and it was drowning in the sea while she dithered?
‘Shall I play another song, Mama? I have a new one from Eaton.’ Sophie turned on the bench to face her.
Eliza nodded patiently. ‘Please, play another.’ Sophie started on the lullaby, encouraged by the praise, and Eliza smiled regretfully to no one in particular. How would she ever forget Eaton? Was that even possible? Eaton, whose presence was stamped all over the dower house and not because the house was his property to begin with, but because he’d tried so very hard to make them feel at home. Over the weeks, he’d brought dolls for Sophie from the nursery at Falmage Hill, sheet music looted from Cade Kitto’s stores at the school, flowers sent down from the main house to decorate the tables and consoles.
It had worked. The place had taken on a comfortable, lived-in feeling. At some point they’d stopped becoming tenants and become residents.
More than residents, a dangerous wisp of thought curled in her mind. You became a family here. Eaton gave you a family and you gave him one. You had a child with no father and he was a man thirsting to be one to your daughter and a husband to you. Together, you both were enough, you both had enough. She’d taken that hope from him when she’d refused him.
Eliza made impotent fists of her hands. How could she not have seen it? His proposal wasn’t only about Detford and Brenley and the mines. It was so much bigger than that. There’d been a chance to have more than a marriage of convenience. She’d thrown more away than just a business deal when she’d refused Eaton. She could have given him the family he wanted and he could have given her a family, too, although smaller than the one she’d imagined for herself. That would have been enough if she had Eaton beside her.
Eliza stilled, shame filling her. Eaton didn’t know that. Did Eaton think he wasn’t enough for her? That she’d refused him, using the business as a smokescreen for the issue of his infertility? Did he think she didn’t want him? That he could never be man enough for her? Just the opposite was true. She’d never known a man like Eaton, a man who was so thoroughly enough in every way. But there was no going back now. She’d made her position clear and he would not come for her again. She’d hurt, humiliated and walked away from the man she loved. It was enough to make her want to break down and sob, but if she started, Eliza feared she might never stop. She had lost Eaton. Now she was truly alone in a way she’d never been before and it was all her own stubborn fault.
Eliza swallowed hard. She would not give in to despair. She would move on from this and bury the hurt a little deeper every day until she could feel nothing at all. She’d done it before when Huntingdon died. She would do it again. She needed action, plans. She was not unlike Eaton in that regard. What did she do now? Her mind was occupied forming scenarios and options. Should she pack up Sophie and return to Truro and her comfortable town house, to the routine of her days? Life in Truro might not be exciting and it might be lonely, but at least she understood it and who she was in that life. She’d been gone too long. She was missing her bed, her office, her own things. But simply going back couldn’t make things the way they’d been before. There would still be the business of the shareholders to deal with. But, to do so from the luxury of her own home, surrounded by her own things, might bring some balance. The sooner she got back to her routine, the sooner she could forget Eaton.
Sophie would miss the house when they left, but not as much as she’d miss Eaton. Her daughter adored him, not just his adventures, but him. Children had an innate sense of a person�
��s inner character, they knew when they were sincere and when they were just attempting to flatter and win affection. Perhaps she should take her cue from Sophie? What could be so wrong with a man who was adored by his dog and her daughter? A man who had done nothing but empower her with the gift of his time, his home, his resources, even the resources of his friends? He’d not hesitated to introduce her to his parents. She could only imagine what the Duke had had to say about her.
It seemed unfair that Eaton had to defend her to his own father after having already had to defend her to so many others. Another reason why she should pack her trunks for Truro. Soon, Eaton would realise how much trouble she was for him. He’d realise, too, that she would always be trouble. His kind would never accept her. His beloved family would never accept her and she wouldn’t allow him to give up his family for hers. Eaton deserved so much more than she’d bring him. Yet, there would be moments of wonder: picnics on the beach, rambles in the woods, suppers in the orangery, Sophie laughing as he cavorted with her, priceless moments. There’d be pleasurable moments, too, intimate moments just between them: lying abed in the mornings spooned against his hard body, endless nights of lovemaking, days of watching him flash that smile of his. Those moments would be worth the sacrifice. No. She could not be tempted and she would be if she stayed.
Sophie finished playing the lullaby and Eliza called her over. ‘I have something to tell you, my darling.’ She pasted on a smile. ‘We are going home to Truro. We will leave in the morning. Isn’t that great news? Tomorrow night we’ll sleep in our own beds and you’ll have your own toys.’ She hoped she sounded excited. If she was excited, perhaps Sophie would be excited, too.
Sophie looked crestfallen. ‘But I don’t want to leave. I want to stay with Eaton. We haven’t found the treasure yet.’
‘It will be winter soon and far too cold for treasure hunting. Besides, Lord Lynford can’t always be on hand for adventures.’
The Secrets of Lord Lynford Page 19
