An Affair in Autumn

by Jennifer Haymore

  Oh Lord. It was him. It was Nate, standing on the wharf with them.

  How was it possible?

  And then he took two steps toward them. He shoved at Mark’s shoulder until Mark was facing him. Mark opened his mouth to say something, but before a word could come out, Nate’s fist flew into the air, connecting with Mark’s cheek with a loud crack.

  Mark dropped to the ground. Caro lunged toward Nate, screaming, “No!”

  She grabbed his arm, and he spun on her, his eyes narrow. “After all the things he said about you,” he fumed. “He decides it’s acceptable to kiss a married woman. A married woman! In public! Bloody hypocrite.”

  “No,” she repeated. “You’re wrong, you don’t understand.”

  Mark rose to his feet, rubbing his face. “I don’t think you broke the bone,” he said mildly, though he spoke as if through a wad of cotton in his mouth, “but it’s going to be a hell of a bruise.”

  She couldn’t help it—she grinned at him. God, she loved that man.

  But Nate was already growling at him. “I’ll break it if you touch her again—”

  “Oh, goodness,” she interrupted crossly. “Don’t you know?”

  “Know what?”

  “Nate, George is dead. He died over a year ago. I’m not married. I’m a widow.”

  “What?” He turned his striking blue-green eyes onto her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I did. I wrote you,” she said.

  “I never received any such letter.”

  “It must have been lost, or… Oh heavens. I sent it to you in the Arkansas Territory, not New York. It probably never reached you.” She shook her head. “But don’t be angry with Mark.” She glanced at him. “He and I… we’re… we’ve been… er…”

  Because what were they, in the end? Lovers, she supposed. For some reason she couldn’t say the word.

  “We’re engaged,” Mark said bluntly.

  Both her and Nate’s heads whipped toward him, and he bowed his head, the tips of his ears turning pink.

  Slowly, with her and Nate watching in disbelief, Mark bent down on one knee and looked up at her, the skin already swelling and reddening over his cheekbone. “Caro, I have spent so long lying to myself, convincing myself that I wasn’t deeply in love with you. I convinced myself that you were someone who you weren’t, when all along, deep in my heart, I knew I loved you. That I’d always loved you, and that you were the only woman I ever truly loved. I have been a bastard to you, and for that, I will spend the rest of my life trying to make amends. All of it was a ruse, a way to convince myself that it wasn’t my own faults that kept us apart.

  “But it was my fault, Caro.”

  “Mark,” she whispered, but he raised his hand to stop her words.

  “I have always felt I wasn’t good enough for you. But in the past month, you have made me believe that I might be good enough for you someday. And I would be the happiest man alive if…” He gazed into her eyes. “If you’d give me a chance to try.”

  She gazed at him, feeling like she was about to burst with love for this man. “How could you?” she whispered.

  His eyes widened in surprise.

  “How could you say that? You don’t need to make amends. You don’t have to try to be good enough, because you already are. You’re the best man I’ve ever known. I’ve never been happier, more content, or more fulfilled than when I was on that ship with you.” She loosely gestured at the Liberty looming behind them.

  He gazed up at her, his dark eyes brimming with emotion. “Marry me, Caro,” he whispered roughly.

  “Yes, Mark. I’ll marry you. I’ve never wanted anything more.”

  He rose to his feet and swept her into his arms. She squeezed him tight, careful not to upset the still-healing wound on his back.

  “Blood,” Nate murmured.

  They turned to him, and he gestured toward Nate’s backside. “That looks like blood.”

  “Oh damn.” Caro narrowed her eyes at Nate. “His wound reopened, thanks to you.”

  “Wound?” Nate asked dumbly.

  He looked completely overwhelmed by all that had just happened. Feeling a sudden surge of sympathy for him, she reached out to take his hand. “It is so good to see you, my friend. We have so much to tell you, but not here. Is there somewhere else we can go to talk?”

  “We were going to head to an inn before it gets too dark,” Mark supplied.

  Nate shook his head, his expression regretful. “I’m sorry. I would like to spend the next few days catching up with you both, but I was just about to board a ship. I’m headed to the United Provinces of South America. We’re to sail with the tide tonight.”

  Mark laid a hand on Nate’s arm. “I’m sorry, but there’s no way we’re allowing you to board that ship.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You cannot go to South America,” Caro said.

  “Why not?”

  Caro and Mark exchanged a look. Then Caro said softly, “We came here for you, Nate.”

  “Why?” Now he looked concerned. “Has something happened?”

  “Yes,” Mark said. “Something did happen. And it’s going to change your life.”

  “I have no idea what you mean.”

  Caro took a deep breath, not wanting to bombard him with all this but seeing no alternative. “You see, it appears as though you’ve come into quite an inheritance.”

  “An inheritance? That’s impossible.” Nate looked skeptical, and Caro couldn’t blame him. His mother—the only relative that he was close to—had died several years ago.

  “Evidently, you’re a distant relative of the Duke of Beckworth.”

  Nate snorted. “No I’m not.”

  “Oh, but you are,” Mark said softly.

  Nate threw up his hands. “Very well then. I’m a relation of the Duke of Beckworth. What has this to do with anything?”

  “Nate, you don’t understand,” Caro said. “You see, you’re his heir.”

  Nate went still.

  Mark nodded. “Yes. It’s been confirmed. Beckworth died over a year ago. His title and lands have been held for months. Half of England has been engaged in a frantic search for the new duke.”

  Nate shook his head slowly.

  “That’s you, Nate,” Caro said. “You’re the new Duke of Beckworth.”

  Nate opened his mouth but no words emerged.

  “And it’s time for you to go home,” Mark said, “Your Grace.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Ten days went by so quickly Caro could hardly believe it. New York City was filled with sights and sounds the likes of which Caro had never seen. Everything was so new, so fresh, the Americans so open and outgoing, so different from the stiff-upper-lip society she was accustomed to.

  Nobody cared one jot who she and Mark were. When they’d registered at the hotel under the names Mr. and Mrs. Markus Hawkins—only slightly premature, as Caro and Mark had decided to obtain a special license and marry as soon as they returned to England—the proprietress didn’t bat an eye. Caro loved the freedom the anonymity brought with it, and Mark told her that was one of his favorite things about traveling—his “false” position, and his relationship with the Duke of Trent, weighed down upon him so much less than when he was in England.

  But tonight was their last night in this new world. Nate’s dukedom needed him, so they’d all booked passage on a ship for London that was due to leave late tomorrow morning.

  Mark and Caro walked hand in hand up the Broadway—the wide, poplar-lined central street of New York City. Earlier, they’d passed the large redbrick houses of the wealthiest inhabitants of the city, with their manicured gardens and wrought iron fences, but now they passed dozens of shops—from bakeries to haberdashers—their doors locked tight for the evening. The night was still and cool, with thousands of stars twinkling overhead.

  Nate had spent the greater part of the past week with them. It had been a happy time, once the awkwardness of their reuni
on had passed and they cleared the air of the misunderstandings and hurts that had drawn them apart. Caro had just begun to feel as if their childhood friendships had been reestablished.

  Still, this was their last night in New York, and she was feeling melancholy about it. “I wish Nate could be with us tonight,” she murmured.

  Mark nodded. “He’s a busy man.”

  “He’s done so well for himself.” Nate was now a rich man, with a fortune built in copper mines. But he’d retained his essential goodness. “He’s going to make an excellent duke.”

  “The very best.”

  “As good as your brother?” Caro asked with a smirk.

  “Well, Nate’s human. I have my doubts about Trent.”

  They both laughed, and Caro squeezed his hand.

  They entered the hotel and walked up the wide marble stairs to their second-floor room overlooking the Broadway. They performed their evening ablutions in amicable silence, and finally Caro crawled into the comfortable space beside Mark and tucked herself in his arms.

  “How is your back feeling?”

  “Perfect,” he murmured. “If a bit itchy.” His back had healed quickly, and his stitches had come out yesterday.

  “The itch is good,” Caro said with a smile. “That means it’s healing. But I forbid you to scratch it.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  They made love slowly, taking their time to explore each other’s bodies. Caro would never tire of touching Mark. He was strong and masculine from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. Every part of him fascinated her… and aroused her endlessly.

  He kissed her deeply, and she held him, love flowing through her and between them.

  It had always been Mark for her—she’d just been too blind to see it. She felt like she’d been reborn into the truth of it, and nothing had ever felt so good.

  She wouldn’t mourn all the time they’d lost. She’d simply rejoice in what they had. Which was so very much.

  He pressed into her, and they both sighed in pleasure. He bent down and closed his teeth over her earlobe, biting gently as he led her hand between her legs. “Touch yourself, Caro.”

  She pressed her fingertips to the sensitive area just above where he glided into her in a smooth but relentless rhythm.

  Using her fingertips, she circled around the spot, gasping as her body constricted around Mark. At the same time, she was certain he was growing larger inside her, their connection growing tighter with every thrust.

  Soon she exploded in a burst of color and light, wrapped tightly around him, her body fused to his as pleasure pulsed through her. Moments later, he found his own pleasure deep inside her.

  They lay for a long time, arms wrapped around each other, Mark’s body still wedged within Caro’s. Finally Mark sighed and slipped out of her. He slid off the bed and came back with a damp towel, which he used to gently clean her off. He tossed the towel aside and lay beside her and gathered her into his arms, whispering words of love into her ear.

  “Mmm,” she murmured, burying her face into his chest. This had become her favorite place to fall asleep every night, tucked up against him like this, both of them completely naked, with the feel of his warm skin all over her body.

  He sifted his fingers through her hair.

  “I adore this place,” she murmured. “America is so freeing.”

  “It is,” Mark agreed. “It’s a beautiful place. There is so much openness and so much opportunity here.”

  “I wish we didn’t have to go home.”

  Mark was quiet for a long moment. Then he whispered, “Do we?”

  The next day dawned bright and cool, with a brisk autumn breeze. As planned, Mark and Caro met Nate at the wharf at ten o’clock. Caro squeezed Mark’s arm as they approached, navigating around dozens of people scurrying this way and that, and Nate waved at them. “There you are,” he called, grinning.

  When they finally were close to him, he asked, “Are you ready for another long sea voyage? This one should be shorter though. The wind will be on our side, and—”

  “We’re not going,” Mark said abruptly. Caro shot him a sidelong glance. He could have broken the news a bit more gently, but this seemed to be Mark’s modus operandi with Nate since they’d reunited.

  Nate frowned at him. “What?”

  “We’ve decided to stay on here in New York,” Caro said.

  Nate’s hands flew up in the air in frustration. Again, Caro couldn’t blame him. They’d twisted the poor man around in about a hundred different knots since the moment he’d seen them kissing on this very dock. “Why?” he demanded.

  “We like it here,” Mark said.

  “The truth is,” Caro added softly, “neither of us has ever really been happy in England. We want to make a new life here.”

  “And yet you send me back to the place I have also never been happy,” Nate grumbled. “Alone.”

  “Things will be different for you now,” Mark said. “I guarantee they will.”

  “Different,” was perhaps an understatement. Nate would never again be looked down upon for being poor or unworthy. He possessed the innate qualities of a strong leader. As Mark and Caro had agreed earlier, he’d make an excellent duke. And people would love him for it.

  “In any case,” Mark added, “the lovely Miss Smith will be accompanying you. You hardly need us.”

  Miss Smith was Nate’s secretary, who was accompanying him on the voyage, along with her half brother. There was something between Nate and the young American, though Caro wasn’t sure if Nate had recognized it yet.

  “Lizzie has no idea how to negotiate the dictates of London society.”

  “But you do,” Caro reminded him.

  Nate groaned.

  “Trent will watch over you,” Mark said. “He’s always admired you, you know, and he’ll help in whatever way he can. And you know very well that he’ll be a far better guide than I ever could be.”

  Nate couldn’t argue with that. He sighed.

  “As soon as you arrive, go see Mr. Reginald Tompkins of Richards, Thistlewaite, and Tompkins, Solicitors, based at Temple in London,” Mark continued. “He has managed the estate since Beckworth died and has been hunting assiduously for the heir… for you, I should say.”

  Nate nodded. “You’re staying, then? Are you certain of this?”

  “We’re certain,” Caro said.

  “Yes. And if we change our minds—” Mark gestured at the adjacent docked ship bustling with activity in the hour before setting off on the long voyage to London. “There’s always a way home.”

  “We’ll write to you,” Caro said. “Often. I want to know everything there is to know about your new life.”

  “I might not need to write,” Nate said. “I might decide to turn around and come straight back to America.”

  “I doubt that,” Mark said with a smile. “Give yourself more credit, man. You’re going to be the best—well, the second-best—duke in England. And you’re going to enjoy the hell out of it.”

  Nate’s lips twisted, but his blue-green eyes sparkled. “I wish I possessed your confidence.”

  “You will,” Mark assured him. “Soon enough.”

  Nate nodded at him. “I’m sorry I didn’t write you for so long. I was just… angry. I couldn’t let it go.”

  “I deserved it,” Mark told him.

  Nate, Caro had learned, had stopped writing to Mark after Mark had sent him a letter railing on Caro for her seemingly selfish actions. Their argument about Caro had caused a rift between them for far too long, and Caro was so glad they’d finally mended things.

  The men embraced, then Caro wrapped her arms around Nate and kissed his cheek. “I’m going to miss you.”

  “I’ll miss you, too.”

  “I’m glad we had this time together, at least.”

  “Me, too. Goodbye, Caro.”

  “Goodbye.” She pulled back and gazed at the man that, as a child, she’d been sure she’d marry someday. The truth w
as, she had never felt anything beyond a sisterly affection for him and a deep respect. He was a handsome man, a good man. But the man behind her was the one who’d showed her what being in love felt like.

  She turned back to Mark, and he slipped her arm around her back as they watched Nate walk the gangway. When he was on the deck of the ship, he turned back to them and waved. They both waved back, smiling, before he turned and disappeared, probably on the hunt for Miss Smith and her brother.

  Caro sighed. “I really will miss him.”

  “I have a feeling we’ll be hearing from him often.”

  “I hope so.”

  Mark looked down at her. “Are you ready?”

  “For what?”

  “Well, first of all, I don’t want to stay in a hotel forever. Let’s find a place to live.”

  A place to live. It sounded wonderfully, blissfully permanent.

  He kissed the top of her head. “But there are a few things we must do before that,” he murmured.

  “What?” she asked innocently. She could feel the need beginning to radiate from him, and her own body instantly answered his call, growing warm and flushed, that sweet ache already blooming between her legs.

  “First,” he said, nuzzling her hair, “I’m going to take you back the hotel and give you the thorough bedding you deserve.”

  She shuddered. “Mm. That sounds nice.”

  “Then we need to find out how one goes about getting married in this country.”

  “A marriage license to start, I expect,” Caro said.

  “I expect so. But do the banns need to be called? Will we need a special license? What about witnesses?”

  “Details, details,” Caro murmured. “We can worry about those later. For now, I suggest we take care of that first item of business on your list.”

  “Excellent plan,” Mark agreed, pressing another kiss to the top of her head.

  Hand in hand, they walked away from the wharf and down the Broadway to their hotel, where they loved each other with the knowledge that this was the beginning of a new adventure, a new, happy life for them both.

  Together.

  A Year Without a Duke

  Jilted in January by Kate Pearce