Yes, he prized honour, loyalty and the sanctity of marriage. But, as Christopher and Giles had just reminded him, he was no longer a lowly orphan, alone and powerless. Without false modesty, he could agree with their assessment that he was now a man of substance and a politician of growing influence and authority.
So why, when it came to Faith, was he acting as if he were still that penniless farm urchin? Believing himself unworthy of her hand because he had been born so far beneath her station?
He wasn’t and never would be an aristocrat. But the steps they’d achieved with the passage of the bill today would provide the framework on which they would continue to build, towards an England where every man had a vote and every man’s vote mattered, where one’s birth meant less than what one made of the opportunities one was given. He didn’t truly believe himself inferior to the wretched Lord Randall, or even the admirable Marquess of Englemere, simply because he hadn’t been born with a title, did he?
If he, who was fighting to change society, didn’t think he was equal to the best of those who did have titles—Giles and Lord Witlow and Englemere—how could he hope to sway the opinions of other Englishmen?
The only Englishmen whose opinions mattered on this point now were the trustees for Faith’s children. If he were to claim her, would they consider her an unfit mother, for marrying too far beneath her?
He didn’t know. But Englemere, with his connections throughout society, would probably not only know who had been named as trustees, but also be well enough acquainted with them to give an accurate assessment of how those men would view Davie’s pretensions to the hand of a widowed duchess.
If Englemere should confirm that Davie could marry Faith without threatening her control over her sons, he could act. It wouldn’t change the fact that, in today’s England, marrying him would be seen by society as a big step down in the world. But as long as proposing to her wouldn’t compromise her control over the sons who meant so much to her, he would feel free to finally reveal to her his deepest desire, and let her make the choice.
Did she think him the equal of Englemere and Witlow?
She certainly could have no doubt about the strength of his affection. He knew she felt at least a fondness for him. And she certainly desired him, he recalled with a deep sense of satisfaction.
But she’d have to feel a good deal more than just ‘affection’ to be willing to jeopardise her position in society.
Ask, and he faced the serious risk that she might turn him down.
Did he dare do so now, if Englemere cleared the way?
Or was it better to hang on to friendship, rather than attempt to take the relationship in a new direction, be refused, and lose everything?
For if he proposed, there would be no going back to simple ‘friends’.
All, or nothing at all?
But he didn’t have to answer that yet. First, he needed to track down Lord Englemere and discover whether he could, in good conscience, dare to move forward.
A finger-snap right in front of his nose brought him suddenly back to the present. He turned to the owner of those fingers, who was looking at him quizzically.
‘So lost in contemplating our satisfying victory that you’ve forgotten where you are?’ Ben asked. ‘Or have the celebratory shouts left your throat too dry to speak? Let’s refill your mug and take care of that!’
‘No, don’t,’ he replied. After his spellbinding realisation, he was suddenly on fire to find Lord Englemere and discover whether he might hold the key to his future in his own hands. ‘As Christopher reminded, we still have much to do—and the first step is getting the bill passed in the Lords. I’m going to hunt up Englemere and get his estimation on where we now stand.’
‘Tonight?’ Giles asked, giving him a puzzled glance. ‘You don’t think you could spare one evening to celebrate with the Hellions, before we move on to the next battle?’
‘Englemere might be at Sir Edward’s, if he didn’t go back to Highgate Village.’ He managed to manufacture a smile, which he hoped would deflect any curiosity over this sudden urgency. ‘It shouldn’t take long to stop by, and I imagine you will be celebrating all evening.’
‘Can’t promise not to drink all the ale before you get back,’ Ben warned.
‘Guess I’ll have to take that risk,’ he replied. ‘I’ll look for you here, later.’
‘I may be off to Maggie before you get back, but I’ll be looking forward to hearing what you learn from Englemere,’ Giles said. But the assessing gaze he levelled on Davie told him his friend didn’t completely believe his impromptu excuse for leaving.
If it all turned out well, he would explain the whole to Giles later. But with the outcome so uncertain, he didn’t want to voice his hopes even to his closest friend. Giles would do anything to help him, he knew—but only Englemere, and Faith herself, could help with this.
Having to exercise all the willpower he possessed to stroll out at a leisurely pace, rather than in a tearing rush, Davie crossed the taproom and exited on to the street.
Once there, he jogged at double-time to the nearest hackney stand.
* * *
After the short transit from the Quill and Gavel near the Houses of Parliament to Sir Edward’s town house in Moulton Street, Davie ran up the steps, filled with both excitement and trepidation. What happened in the next few minutes might well determine whether he would live with heartache for the rest of his life—or have at least a chance to build a future with the woman he’d loved for almost a decade.
Nothing, not even the satisfaction of passing the reform legislation over which he’d toiled for that decade, could compare to the euphoria engendered by that prospect. The very idea was so intoxicating, he hardly dared think it.
One step at a time. First he needed to determine whether proposing to Faith was possible.
The butler, knowing him to be a frequent guest, told him that the family was in their private parlour, but despite the lateness of the hour, he would notify his master that Davie had called.
‘Is Lord Englemere with them, Shelborn?’ Davie asked, his stomach churning with anticipation and dread.
‘Yes, Lord Englemere will be spending the week, before he returns to Highgate. Political dinners, I gather,’ Shelborn confided before bowing Davie into the formal salon and going off to inform his master of Davie’s presence.
Too agitated to take the seat Shelborn had led him to, Davie paced the room. He was reasonably sure the butler would return with an invitation for him to join his mentor and Englemere, bringing closer the moment when he would discover whether his hopes could be realised or not.
A few minutes later, Shelborn returned to escort him to the private family parlour on the floor above. Anxiety and anticipation speeding his steps, Davie entered to find Sir Edward, his wife Lady Greaves, and Lord Englemere playing cards.
‘Welcome, Davie!’ Sir Edward said. ‘Will you join us in a hand? Or are you too energised after your victory in the Commons today to sit still that long?’
‘It was energising,’ Davie affirmed. ‘So much so, that I indeed find myself eager to move on to the next step. With that in mind, I stopped by on the hope that you would be here, Lord Englemere, and I might claim a few minutes of your time to get your estimation of the situation in the Lords, now that the chamber has learned of the bill’s passage by the Commons.’
‘If you gentlemen are going to talk politics, I shall go check on the children,’ Lady Greaves said with a smile. ‘There is no such thing as “a few minutes”, once you start on that!’
‘Please, don’t let me break up your game,’ Davie protested. ‘If you don’t mind chatting, my lord, I’m happy to wait on your convenience.’
‘Considering how wretched my hand is, I’m willing to end the game now, before these gentlemen complete their most unchivalrous rout
of me,’ Lady Greaves said, tossing down her cards. ‘Ned, dear, I’ll see you when you come up later. Englemere, I wish you a goodnight, and will see you at breakfast tomorrow.’
With that, Lady Greaves rose, gave her husband a kiss and Davie a shake of the hand before walking out.
‘Would my assessment be of any value, or would you rather be closeted with Englemere?’ Sir Edward asked.
‘No, please stay,’ Davie said. Before Englemere could begin to answer his query, he interrupted to confess, ‘With apologies, I didn’t really seek you out to talk about politics. My urgency concerns a much more personal matter.’
‘If it’s more personal to you than the politics you’ve lived and breathed these last ten years, it must be important indeed,’ Sir Edward said with a smile.
‘It is,’ Davie affirmed. ‘Will you withhold any comment until I’ve told you the whole, no matter how...presumptuous you may think me? At that point, I will be most grateful for your candid opinions.’
After exchanging a puzzled look with Sir Edward, Englemere said, ‘Agreed. So, tell us the whole.’
‘I’m sure it doesn’t come as any surprise to either of you that I developed a great admiration for Faith—the Duchess of Ashedon—that first summer I served as your secretary, Sir Edward. Over the years, my affection and admiration have remained undiminished, nor have I subsequently met any woman I consider her equal. As you may know, after the Duke’s death, we...rekindled the friendship we formed all those years ago. A renewed association with her has only strengthened the feelings I’ve held for so long. To the point that, I feel I must dare trying to move the relationship beyond mere friendship.’
Sir Edward and Englemere exchanged another glance. ‘You mean, you want to marry her?’ Englemere asked.
Relieved that the Marquess hadn’t immediately shown him the door for his effrontery, Davie said, ‘Yes, I would like to propose to her.’
‘Do you believe she returns your affection?’ Sir Edward asked.
‘I know she cares about me. Whether she cares enough to marry me, I won’t know until I ask. Although she cannot be unaware of my feelings, up to now, I have been very careful not to say anything that might hint I desire more than friendship. I’m now prepared to risk revealing my heart. However, I would not ask her to consider a marriage the trustees of her children would find so ill judged they would question her fitness to raise her sons, and decide to remove the boys from her care. What I’d like to learn from both of you, is how you feel the trustees would react, were she to marry me.’
He held up a hand, forestalling any comment. ‘I’m not so naïve that I don’t realise society would be shocked, even outraged, by such a marriage. But after years of work in Parliament, I believe I now occupy a position of sufficient authority and prestige that the trustees would find nothing objectionable in my character. Still, no amount of Parliamentary good works will turn me into a peer. I’m willing to let Faith decide whether or not she cares enough for me to face possible exile from society. But do you think my Parliamentary position good enough to satisfy the trustees?’
After a few minutes of shocked silence, during which Davie could hear his own heartbeat thudding in his ears, Sir Edward said slowly, ‘You cannot doubt that we both esteem you personally, Davie.’
‘I don’t doubt that. But you both came to know me through rather...unusual circumstances, and our long association colours your opinion of my worth. Are you acquainted with the Duke of Ashedon’s trustees? Enough to predict their assessment of my worth?’
‘Having no inkling that his demise was imminent—’ Englemere grimaced, doubtless remembering the tawdry circumstances of the accident ‘—Ashedon did not arrange for trustees before his death. At the time the estate was settled, Chancery appointed three men to serve in that role—his cousin, the Marquess of Trent, one of his maternal uncles, the Earl of Sandborn, and the family solicitor, Mr Campbell.’
‘Sandborn?’ Davie echoed, his anxiety ratcheting down a notch.
Englemere smiled. ‘Yes, Sandborn, one of your staunchest supporters in the Lords. There would certainly be no objection to your suit from that direction, or from the solicitor. Trent, however, is as starched-up as they come, and might well have reservations about the duchess’s remarriage to a commoner.’
‘Must the trustees be unanimous in their approval?’ Sir Edward asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Englemere admitted. ‘I have no expertise in matters of guardianship. However, Sandborn would offer strong support, and I’d be willing to put in a good word as well.’
‘As would I,’ Sir Edward said.
‘So,’ Davie began, trying to rein in his eagerness, ‘you think I could try my luck, without any harmful repercussions from the trustees, if she should accept my suit?’
After exchanging glances, the two men nodded. ‘We do,’ Englemere said.
Hope, buried so long and so deeply, rushed out in a flood of excitement that had him leaping to his feet with a whoop of joy. ‘Thank you!’ he cried, shaking Sir Edward’s and Englemere’s hands in turn. ‘She may send me away with my ears ringing for my presumption in asking for her, but at least now, I can dare to do so.’
‘Hardly presumptuous, Davie,’ Sir Edward said with a laugh. ‘You’re a landowner and a highly respected member of Parliament—not a factory labourer living in a garret, or some womanising fortune-hunter.’
‘I don’t care about her fortune at all—let it be tied up in her sons,’ Davie said. ‘My income doesn’t compare to a duke’s, but I can support her comfortably enough.’
‘Far more important to me than you supporting her,’ Englemere said quietly, ‘is that you will love her. Something that bastard Ashedon never did. After all the misery he caused her, she deserves some happiness. If she believes she will find it with you, you’ll both have my blessing, and Sarah’s.’
‘Mine and Joanna’s, too,’ Sir Edward said. ‘We’ve grieved for her over the years, and would love to see her happy at last. Both of you happy at last,’ he amended.
‘Don’t worry about the trustees,’ Englemere said. ‘If necessary, Ned and I will bring them around.’
Such a rush of joy and enthusiasm filled him, he might be one of those Montgolfier hot-air balloons, released from the tethers binding it to earth to soar up, up, up into the sweet, pure air.
‘Thank you both,’ he said, shaking their hands again. He knew he was grinning like a village idiot, but he couldn’t help it. He could barely restrain himself from turning cartwheels across the parlour rug.
‘You’re not going to try your luck at once, are you?’ Sir Edward said as they walked him to the door.
‘I would like to—but it’s probably too late,’ Davie said, trying to throttle back the compulsion to seek her out at once. ‘I don’t want to ride out to Brookhollow Lodge and wake them all up in the middle of the night. That is, I assume Faith and the boys are with Lady Englemere?’
The Marquess shook his head. ‘Not that I know of. Were they supposed to be?’
This wasn’t the time to reveal the machinations of the despicable Lord Randall—and Faith might well wish them never to be revealed. ‘She mentioned she would like to take the boys out for a longer visit some time soon. I haven’t seen her for several days, and thought she might have already left London.’
‘As far as I know, they are still in town,’ Englemere replied. ‘But although the trip from here to Berkeley Square is short, it would probably be better not to invade that house at this late hour, either.’
‘If you’re going a-wooing, better to send a note and flowers ahead, with a request that she designate a convenient time to call on her,’ Sir Edward said. ‘Give you a chance to work out a pretty speech, too, so you don’t just blurt out a proposal. Ladies do like pretty words.’
‘Faith likes honest ones. Say what’s in your heart—that
will be enough,’ Englemere advised.
‘Good luck, Davie,’ Sir Edward said. ‘I hope Faith does accept you. She couldn’t choose a finer man. Whatever you do, you do with your whole heart and soul.’
‘If she does me the honour of becoming my wife, she’ll have both in her keeping for the rest of my life,’ Davie affirmed. Nearly bursting with hope, pride, urgency and impatience, he bowed to them both and strode out of the room.
Chapter Sixteen
Well aware that he was too agitated to return to the Quill and Gavel without the other Hellions immediately demanding to know what was wrong, Davie took himself back to his rooms at Albany. Sleep being equally impossible, he passed the rest of the night alternately pacing and rehearsing his proposal to Faith.
‘Work out a pretty speech,’ Sir Edward had advised. Though Davie had thought out carefully what he wanted to tell her, he suspected that, driven by the love he’d finally allowed to escape the shackles with which he normally confined it, once he gazed upon her face and knew that his whole lifetime’s happiness would depend on how she answered him, he would probably forget every word.
So calamitous was the possibility of her refusing him, he almost decided not to visit her at all—yet. Should he indulge in the delight of her presence—as a friend—a few more times before he risked everything on the possibility of her accepting him?
But if she did, why delay that joy and live in an agony of uncertainty any longer than he must? If she were going to refuse him, better to know straight away, and start figuring out how he would salvage the shattered remnants of a life that stretched in a frighteningly long void ahead of him, if he contemplated a future without her.
How had he progressed so quickly, he marvelled, from feeling blessed just to share a few outings with her before she was caught up in her life again, to knowing that the rest of his life would be blighted if she wouldn’t share hers with him?
Whenever that drastic transition had occurred, it was far too late to try to retreat into the safety of friendship.
Stolen Encounters with the Duchess Page 19
