Lily Dalton - Never Desire a Duke

With difficulty, he again stood, pushing up on his cane. Slowly he made his way to a side table, where he poured two brandies and a sherry, which he distributed among them.

“When I was recovered enough from my wounds to return to England, Elizabeth visited me here, only to wish me well and to explain in person what had happened with our child and why she had married another.” Mr. Garswood emptied his glass. “The servants talked, and the duke immediately believed we’d resumed our affair. You, meanwhile, had already been conceived within the honorable bonds of their marriage. They reconciled to whatever extent, long enough for you and Haden to be born, but he never forgave her for her alleged betrayal. Their relationship was always stormy and he eventually set her aside. But almost as if to torture himself, he placed her there, in Camellia House, in close proximity to my home.”

They spoke a while longer, talking over smaller details of those stories and lives forever entwined. At last Vane stood, raising Sophia by her hand.

To Mr. Garswood he said, “I cannot thank you enough. All these years I lived with that grain of doubt, one I carried with me always, believing in my darkest moments that I had no right to bear my ancestors’ name. And knowing of this injury my father sustained…it gives me peace that he was not purely evil, but somehow changed forever quite against his will.”

“I am glad to have set things right.” Mr. Garswood’s eyebrows shot up. “But this old man and his stories are not your reward. At least, not the best part of it.”

From his desk he withdrew a small wooden chest and handed it to Vane.

“This was delivered along with the instructions for that game of lookabout. Among other things, there’s a letter inside she wrote to you, just before her death, and one intended for your brother, Lord Haden, as well. I was only to give them to you if you completed the final quest.”

Their return to Camellia House took nearly twice as long as the initial trip to the Garswood estate. The blades that had conveyed them so swiftly from place to place for the last several days now sank deep into the melting snow, even touching the earth beneath, requiring the draft horse to exert more effort than before. As Vane held the reins and urged the animal to continue, his gaze continually fell to Sophia’s lap, where she held the precious box containing his mother’s letters and mementoes of his past. In a matter of moments he’d be able to examine everything. He looked forward to sharing the moment of first discoveries with Sophia. How strange and wonderful it had been to realize, as Mr. Garswood had revealed one secret after another, that no matter what the man had said—no matter how it might have shocked Vane or shaken his foundations—as long as Sophia was there standing beside him, everything would be all right.

Once returned to the house, he rekindled the fire and they spread a large blanket before it and reclined there with the box between them.

Hours before, Lord and Lady Meltenbourne had returned to the village to await the first possible ferry passage to London. Mr. and Mrs. Branigan and the baby were comfortably settled into their new quarters over the stable. As for Mr. and Mrs. Kettle, the excitement of the previous days had resulted in considerable fatigue for them. At Sophia’s urging, they rested in their old quarters adjacent to the kitchen, refusing to leave Camellia House until the Duke and Duchess of Claxton made their departure the next day.

Sophia removed the lid of the box and peered down at the envelope resting on top. “Don’t wait another moment, Vane. Read your mother’s letter.”

Dearest Vane,

When was your mother ever predictable? Can you believe I myself undertook to have that awful portrait hung on my very own wall? When I am gone, he will destroy any remnant of me. But never a portrait of himself hanging on my wall. He is too prideful for that.

I am just as certain one day you will remove the painting, as only you would understand its offensiveness to me. In that way, acting as my champion, I feel certain you will discover the first quest that after all this time spent apart will lead you back to me.

This simple game is the only way I could think to prove to you that no matter what has happened, you’re still my Vane. My gentle, loving boy and the honorable man I knew he would become.

I know that to be true, because that honorable man is holding this letter now and reading my words. Only the Vane I know would fulfill a silly game of lookabout for the purpose of honoring his dead mother’s memory. Set your spirit free of the past, and live your future with all the hopes I had for you.

Your loving mother, always and forever,

Elizabeth

Vane stared at the letter, and at last returned it to the wooden box filled with old diaries, miniatures, and letters he had yet to examine but appeared to represent the history of her family, which had ended with her death. In his head, it was almost as if he could hear his mother’s voice.

Sophia touched his hand. “This is all so wonderful. I couldn’t be more happy for you.”

Vane stood from the floor, eyes wide and amazed.

Sophia peered up at him. “How do you feel now after reading her letter?”

“Broken.” He exhaled and straightened his shoulders. “Healed.”

He pulled her up to stand beside him.

“Then it was all worth it. The ruined cakes.” She beamed. “Lady Meltenbourne. The duel and the surprise Branigan baby.”

He rubbed his hands down her arms. It wasn’t a seductive touch, but one that spoke of affection. “Tomorrow we return to London.”

“Yes. Just in time for Christmas.”

“Before we go, I need to tell you something.”

“What’s that?”

Touching her chin, he lifted her gaze to his. He felt freed. Somehow the words that had seemed so difficult before weren’t any longer.

“I never wanted anything more than I wanted you,” he said quietly. “From the first moment I saw you.”

She said nothing, but her eyes softened and she let out a little breath.

He continued, having so much more to say. “On paper, I had everything, a title and wealth, to be a worthy husband to you. But on the inside, here in my heart and inside my head, I felt like a fraud. For living the life I’d lived and for doubting who I was. I believed myself wholly unworthy of someone as lovely as you. I know it sounds strange to say, but the happier we were, the more fearful I became that one day you would see me for what I was.”

She stared up into his eyes. “What you are is a good man.”

“But not then. That day, everything came crashing down. We lost the baby, and I believed I’d lost you too. When I should have stayed beside you and held you and proved to you I was someone else…I didn’t. I was wrong.” He touched her face and looked down into the green eyes that had always enchanted him. “I can’t take those memories and those hurts away, but I can tell you I love you. I have always loved you.”

I love you too. The words hovered at the back of her tongue. She did love him. Desperately. She always had. But she hesitated. Why? When she wanted to throw her arms around him and kiss him and cry yes to happiness. Yes, to forever.

“It’s all right,” he said. “I don’t expect you to say you love me too. Not after these few days. I just wanted you to know before we left Lacenfleet how I felt, now more than ever. Sophia, I wouldn’t have been the honorable man my mother describes in the letter if not for you.” He pointed at the wooden chest.

“That’s not true.”

I love you too. Still, the words wouldn’t come.

She wanted to cry because it hurt her to be so begrudging, that she couldn’t simply let go of the fear that had consumed her for so long.

She’d forgiven him, but why couldn’t she forget?

“It is true.” He took her in his arms, embracing her tight, the naked admiration in his eyes almost more than she could bear, because she craved it so deeply, but feared once they left this magical place, that light would fade. She wouldn’t be able to survive losing him a second time. She needed more days like this one with Claxton before she could at last say good-bye to her doubts. A history. Then she could finally surrender everything. She could again give him her heart. “If you’d not been here, goose, I would have thrown that first quest on the fire with his portrait without ever having read it, a coward from my pain.”

She shook her head. “You’re the furthest thing from a coward. To hear what you have suffered at the hands of your own father, a man who should have treasured you. I can hardly bear it.”

“No pity.” He mouth found hers, breathtakingly ardent.

“Vane.” She sighed. “No, never pity.”

He had fought his battle and won.

“I need you now,” he murmured. His mouth burned a hot path down her neck to her breasts.

Sophia stared into his eyes, her heart swollen with a love she couldn’t express in words, so strong and consuming she felt terrified from the immensity of it. “Claxton, I—”

He touched his fingertips to her lips. “I told you. You don’t have to say anything. Not until you’re ready.”

Sophia melted in his arms, lost to his touch. He scattered kisses along her temple and cheek. Down her throat.

“Let me make love to you now,” he rasped against her skin. “One last time before we go…then again in our bed in London.”

“Please,” she begged, grasping fistfuls of his shirt and tugging the linen free from his breeches.