by Alec, Joyce
“I--I do not know where my father is,” she stammered, her happiness suddenly dying away. “I–?”
“I do,” Lady Millington interrupted, a slightly abashed look on her face. “Forgive me for keeping this from you, my dear, but I have always known where your father has gone to. It was known to me since the day your father planned for such an event. He sent you to me and went to one of my late husband’s small holdings. A cottage near the coast. I have the address. In fact, we may go visit him if you would wish it, my dear. It might be best, given that there is so much to explain.”
Emily felt her lips curve into a smile of relief, slumping into her chair as Lord Pallson let go of her hand in order to allow the tea trays to be served. She did not feel any sort of anger towards Lady Millington for keeping such a thing from her, understanding at once why she had been required to do so. The thought of being back with her father, with having him at home and continuing their lives together made her happier than she had ever thought possible.
“And I do hope you will allow me to come and call on you, once you are happy and settled,” Lord Pallson murmured, as Lord Brighton began to talk in excited tones with Lady Millington. “I would very much like to be introduced to your father.”
The hope in his words had her breath catching. She knew very well what it was he wanted, what it was he wished to ask in meeting her father, and she knew all too well that she would never refuse Lord Pallson when the time came for him to ask.
“Thank you, Lord Pallson,” she replied softly. “I think that a wonderful idea.” A small frown captured some of her smile. “But what of Lord Franks? What is to occur with him?”
Miss Martin leaned forward. “Indeed, what is to become of him? What is to prevent him from pursuing the diamonds and Lady Emily again?”
Lord Pallson grimaced. “As he is nobility, the law will be loath to go after him. However, I ensured that his name is now thoroughly disgraced, for we deliberately walked him into the drawing room.” A small, angry smile tugged at his lips. “Lord Brighton made a very loud announcement that the rest of their guests, for their own safety, were to stay well away from Lord Franks. He will say more at breakfast tomorrow morning. Lord Franks will not have a reputation to speak of once he returns to London.”
“London?” Emily repeated, a little concerned. “Why would he return there?”
Lord Pallson’s expression was a little triumphant. “Lord Franks’ father currently resides in London for the Season. I believe he has a daughter that is currently out. I would wager that he knows nothing of this.”
Emily nodded slowly. “You intend to tell him, I presume?”
A small shrug lifted Lord Pallson’s shoulder, and he winced, rubbing at his arm for a moment. “It will be flying around London by the time I return there, I am quite sure, but I will of ensure that the facts are known. As you may not be aware, Lord Franks has not regained his full title, for he is only an earl—and then one day he will be a marquess. I am quite sure his father, the Marquess of Winton, will have a good deal to say about his son’s behavior. I know that the Marquess of Winton has holdings overseas. I intend to suggest that Lord Franks should be sent there for a duration.”
Feeling a good deal more settled at this news, Emily managed a small smile. “I see. That is a well-thought-out plan, Lord Pallson.”
“Of course, I intend to be a part of your life long after Lord Franks returns to take his title of Marquess of Winton,” he finished tenderly. “You will not be alone or without help, should anything untoward occur.”
Their eyes locked, and she felt her heart quickening in her chest.
“Whatever is wrong with your shoulder, Lord Pallson?” Helen asked, breaking the moment. “Did Lord Franks injure you?”
Lord Pallson gave her a wry smile. “His dagger caught me, I am afraid but–” He held up one hand, stemming the flow of expressions of concern from both Helen and Emily’s lips. “But I am quite at my ease, I assure you. It was a graze only. Thanks to Lady Emily’s quick thinking, Lord Franks was not in the least bit prepared.” Bowing low, he took her hand again and drew her to her feet. Quite uncaring about the others who were present, he led her away towards the darker part of the library, ensuring that they were as alone as they could be.
And then, he drew her into his arms, holding her tightly as she melted into him. The steady beat of his heart steadied her, feeling him just as strong and as reassuring as ever. Emily clung to him tightly, her arms around his neck as she let out her breath, feeling as though she were breathing out the last of her fears.
“You were marvelous, my love,” Lord Pallson murmured in her ear. “Truly marvelous. I should never have even suggested that you hide yourself away. I should never even have thought that you would be willing to do such a thing.” He looked down at her, lifting her chin with one gentle finger. “You have such strength in you, Lady Emily, that it quite takes my breath away.”
She could not speak, could not move. All she could do was look up into his face and see the love that was resting in his eyes. She felt it resound in her own heart, her lips parting of their own accord as he leaned down to kiss her softly. They stood there together, wrapped in the shadows and entirely lost in one another.
Epilogue
Three months later
“And how do you find my father?”
Emily looked up, her lips quirking as Lord Pallson let out a long breath, his eyes twinkling as he looked back at her. They were taking a small stroll around the gardens of the Rawson estate and leaving Miss Martin, Lady Millington, and the Marquess talking together in the drawing room.
“He is a somewhat fierce character, I think,” Lord Pallson replied with a slight lift of his brow. “But I am glad that he has not rejected me outright.”
Emily laughed aloud. “How could he, now that he knows what you have done for me? Truly, Lord Pallson, you are being quite foolish.”
Lord Pallson chuckled and offered her his arm, which she took at once. They smiled at one another for a moment, their mirth suddenly changing to something a good deal more intense.
“It is very good to be back with you again,” Lord Pallson murmured gently. “I have missed your company.”
“And I yours,” she replied truthfully. “It has been very pleasant to be able to return home safely with my father, but I have thought of you very often.” She caught his gaze for a moment, before turning her eyes back to the path ahead. “Everything is quite settled with Lord Franks?”
Lord Pallson’s eyes darkened for a moment. “Yes, quite settled. He is gone abroad, with his father’s blessing.” He lifted his brows so that she could not mistake his meaning. “I believe he was to write to you. The Marquess of Winton, I mean.”
Emily nodded slowly, remembering the note she had received from the marquess begging her forgiveness for the sins of his son, Lord Franks. “Yes, I have received it. It was very much appreciated by both myself and my father, although both of us believe that Lord Winton is not to blame in any way.”
“He is a father wishing to do what he can to make amends for his son,” Lord Pallson said sadly. “It will be some years before Lord Franks can return home. You have nothing to fear any longer, my love.” He tipped his head. “What of your maid, Sarah? Last I heard, she was nowhere to be found.”
Emily’s lips curved down. “Indeed. When we were residing with Lord Brighton, she must have overheard the news that Lord Franks had been captured. I have not seen her since.” Part of her was angry that her maid had managed to escape without any consequence, but she had been attempting to push such anger away over the last few months. There was nothing she could do in order to try and find Sarah, and she was certain that the maid could not harm her in any way.
“You have such a strength about you, Lady Emily,” Lord Pallson murmured, shaking his head in astonishment. “You quite overwhelm me.”
The tender expression had her heart quickening. “Thank you for all you have done, Lord Pallson.”
&nbs
p; “And for what you have done with Helen,” he said grandly. “You have heard, I am sure, that she is to be Lady Winchester within a few months.”
Emily chuckled, recalling the letter she had received from Helen that had been filled with wondrous delight at the fact that she had found herself so wonderful a suitor. “Yes, I was aware and am very glad for her. Lady Millington is to wed Lord Brighton, although that is not as well known amongst the ton.” She laughed at Lord Pallson’s astonished expression, seeing that he had not been aware of it at all.
“Then I wish them every happiness in the world,” he murmured, stopping for a moment and catching her hands so that she had to turn to face him. “And you, Lady Emily? What of your own happiness?”
Her heart was beating so quickly she was sure he could not be unaware of it. Her hands were warm in his, her eyes filled with nothing but him. “I am happy, my lord, now that you are here.” Her voice was soft, her lips trembling just a little at the intensity in his eyes.
“But I am not,” Lord Pallson said gently, his hands pressing hers for a moment. “I cannot be happy unless I am with you, Lady Emily. I have missed you terribly these last few months. The absence has been almost unbearable. My every waking moment has been filled with thoughts of you.” Drawing in a breath, he closed his eyes for a moment before looking down at her again, hope blazing in his eyes. “Will you marry me, my love? I love none but you. I desire none but you. Will you be my wife? Will you allow me to cherish you, to love you, to show you just how much you have come to mean to me?”
She laughed softly, resting her hand gently against his cheek and marveling at the warmth in his eyes. “I have been waiting for you to ask me, Lord Pallson. Yes, of course, I will marry you. I confess to you now that I have loved you ever long, and that my love continues to burn each and every day.”
He sighed with happiness, closing his eyes as he crushed her to him. She went willingly, letting him hold her close just as he had done so many times before. His lips met hers in a fierce kiss, and she gave herself up to it, feeling the hints of passion and knowing that this man, this wonderful, courageous man, loved her with all of his heart. She was free now, free of the fear and the terror that had held her for so long. Free to give him her heart, bursting with love and tenderness that was all for him.
“I love you, Lady Emily,” he murmured, his breath whispering across her cheek.
“And I you, Lord Pallson,” she replied, before reaching to kiss him again.
* * *
THE END
Preview: A Duke’s Promise
Secrets of London
1
London 1814
“I am afraid it is a very serious illness, my lord.”
Matthew Arthur, the Duke of Harrogate, ran one hand through his carefully styled chestnut-colored hair, sighing heavily.
“I am sorry, your grace,” the doctor continued with a shake of his head. “It appears the duchess has contracted an illness after the birth of your daughter.”
A heavy weight settled in Matthew’s stomach. He barely knew the duchess, and now it appeared that she was to be gone from this world in a very short time.
“I should send for her parents,” he muttered to himself, passing one hand over his eyes before blinking at the doctor in an attempt to order his thoughts. “They should be here, should they not?”
It was a question meant to ascertain just how ill the duchess was, and with only a momentary hesitation, the doctor nodded slowly.
“Yes, your grace, I think that would be wise,” he said softly. “I am sorry I cannot do more.”
Matthew nodded mutely.
“You have a wet nurse for the child?”
That brought Matthew’s head up sharply. He had almost forgotten his newborn daughter, the one who was now being held tightly in the nurse’s arms in the corner of the room.
“I do,” he replied, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat, as he thought of his daughter growing up without a mother. “She has taken good care of my daughter thus far.”
“I do not mean to question you, of course,” the doctor murmured, glancing behind him. “But so often these things can be forgotten in the wake of tragedy.”
A sudden terror clutched at Matthew’s throat, making him lunge for the doctor’s shoulder as he turned away.
“She is not ill?”
Lifting his grey, bushy brows, the doctor looked back at Matthew inquiringly.
“My daughter, I mean.”
“Oh,” the doctor replied with a sad smile. “No, she is not ill. She is as hale and hearty as I have ever seen a babe, and one of the female persuasion at that! Ensure she has a good nurse, plenty of milk, and she will remain just as vigorous, I am sure of it. Send for me again if you require me, your grace. I am at your disposal.”
“Thank you, doctor,” Matthew murmured, as the man turned away again and headed for the door. “I will ensure that you are paid for your work here.”
There was no reply, and as Matthew turned his gaze back to the small, frail figure in the corner of the room, he felt his breath escape him in a long, painful sigh.
This was his wife, the Lady Elizabeth Donnington, who had been placed on his arm only a few days before their wedding was due to take place. He had never laid eyes on her until that day, and it had been a disappointment to realize that there would never be any kind of love between them. Not that he expected that, of course, for a gentleman such as he was, had to marry responsibly and that meant a marriage of convenience and practicality. Lady Elizabeth Donnington had been his chosen bride. She was not chosen by him, of course, but by his father when he had been in infancy. Mathew’s father was quite happy to see Matthew wed, and relieved to know that Matthew’s wife was with child. Apparently awash with relief, the duke had taken to his bed and succumbed to his weak heart. That had only been a few months ago, and now, it seemed, Matthew was to stare death in the face all over again.
Walking toward the bed, Matthew looked down at the pale figure lying there, his heart sore for her. It was not as though he had ever loved her, nor had she ever loved him, and since the very day of their marriage, they had lived very separate lives. It had brought about a degree of loneliness, which he had never quite been able to remove from himself, and now that loneliness was to deepen only further.
A slight murmur came from the corner of the room, and glancing over at the nurse, Matthew saw her throw him a slightly terrified look before shushing the baby quietly.
“Do not worry,” he murmured, not wanting the wet nurse to think him cruel. “She is a baby, I suppose.” He held his arm out to her, his heart thundering with a sudden, furious tension. “Bring her to me.”
He had not held his daughter yet, since his wife’s condition had worsened with almost every passing hour these last three days. Now, however, he wanted to hold his child in his arms, to look into her tiny face and see if there was anything of himself there.
Not quite sure how he was meant to hold her, he glanced at the wet nurse, who gave him a small smile, clearly less afraid of him now.
“There, your grace,” she said quietly, lifting the baby from the crook of her arm. “Just like that. Put her head in your elbow and hold her close to your body with this arm.” She smiled again as Matthew took the tiny baby from her, doing exactly as she said and felt as though he might break his child were he to hold her too closely.
“Perfect,” the nurse whispered, tugging the blanket a little more snugly around the child’s neck before stepping away to sit back amongst the shadows.
Drawing in a long breath, Matthew looked down at the baby in his arms. She was sound asleep, her cheeks pink and tiny, rosebud mouth half open. She was the most delicate, most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and deep within him, Matthew felt his heartbreak open with a love he had never experienced before.
How he could love someone he had only just met, only just seen, was quite beyond him, and yet, from a well of love springing into life within him, Matthew knew that h
e would never let this child go. He would do everything he could for her, showing her the love and affection a father ought to show to his daughter. A love he had not experienced from his own father.
“If you will forgive me, your grace,” the wet nurse said quietly. “Do you have a name for the child? I was not told.”
Blinking, Matthew lifted his head and looked at the nurse, who was sitting with a patient expression on her face. Had he truly never given his daughter a name?
“Of course,” he mumbled, his gaze dragged back down to the child in his arms. “She should be called after her mother.” But even as he said those words, Matthew felt his eyebrows draw down into a dark frown. Yes, the girl should be called after her mother, but there was something in him that did not want to remember the pain of his arranged wedding, and the loneliness that had grown between them. “She will be Sarah Elizabeth,” he said, firmly, taking his mother’s name and setting it before his wife’s name. “Sarah Elizabeth. Yes, that will do.”
“A lovely name, to be sure,” the wet nurse murmured, coming over to him and holding out her hands as Sarah Elizabeth began to fuss. “I should feed her now and put her to sleep.”
It was as though he were the servant and she the master, for Matthew found himself doing exactly as the wet nurse said. Handing over the child, he paused for a moment, as her tiny hand wrapped around one of his fingers, making him catch his breath.
She was utterly perfect. The only good thing to come out of what had been a difficult and lonely marriage between two people who did not care for one another very much at all.
