“And what has that meant to you? Yes, you have a small bit of power and riches beyond imagination, but I have done nothing except lay heartache at your door. I forced you into a marriage you did not want, and when I should have been a better man, I slew your one true love.” He spat out the last part as though he had eaten a rotten egg.
He turned his gaze away from her, and Elizabeth’s stomach dropped. She put a hand over it, rubbing gently. She swallowed hard, blinking back tears. The answer was clear even as she asked the question.
“What do you mean?”
“George is dead. I killed him myself.”
Tears fell for her childhood sweetheart, the boy she had loved.Had loved,but no longer. The tears were for the friend she used to have, not the creature of obsession and vengeance that he had become. “I had no illusions that George might not survive an encounter with you. I am sorry for that, I truly am, but you did what you needed to do to protect our family.”
“You loved him.”
“Is that what you believe?”
“It is what I know.”
“I see.” She rubbed her hands over the tiny bump beneath her gown again. “William, why have you not looked at me since you arrived?”
“I cannot. I shall not have the strength to release you from your contract if I look upon what I am trying to give up.”
“Look at me.”
“No.”
“Damn you!” she wailed, her voice breaking like a wave on a beach. “Look at me!”
* * *
He did then, knowing his resolve to do the right thing would be lost in that moment. Her beautiful face was plumper and her breasts a little fuller. A person who might have first met her would never have guessed the reasons, but Darcy, having such an intimate knowledge of her form, comprehended the change instantly. His hand reached for her, and when she stepped forward, he caressed the small swell beneath the silk. Touching her again was the salve his wounded soul needed, and before he could check himself, his lips were pressed to hers and the salt of her tears was on his tongue. He embraced her with all his strength, fearing she might disappear if he let go.
“Ours?” he asked as if he could not believe his own eyes.
“Of course,” she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks. “To mark the occasion when I first said my husband's name.”
That day seemed like a lifetime ago, and he fought to make the memory clear within his head once again. Her face had kept him alive on the battlefield, but every touch, every smile, every word had folded together into a collective feeling of need and warmth that had seen him through the long nights of his self-imposed exile.
“Rumours reached me that my lover had died. Jane tried so hard to protect me, so I did not hint that I had heard. Nobody seemed sure which lover that might have been, and I have lived in agony these last weeks.”
“He did die. I killed him myself.”
Elizabeth shook her head, her tears squeezing through her closed eyes.
“I did not want to. You must believe me. I knew the pain it would give you, but he gave me no choice. He attacked me after I offered a truce.Heattackedme.”
“I am sorry George is dead, truly, but you misunderstand. I was a fool not to say anything before. This is the sole truth I have ever concealed, and yet it is simply the most important truth of my life. I did not think you would believe me, but I must say it now.
“I love you. I have loved you. I do love you. I will love you.”
He sat down so hard in the closest chair that it groaned beneath his weight. All he could do then was to stare at his beautiful wife. “How?”
“I do not know! How does the sun rise? How does a dog know that the earth will shake? How did I fall in love with a brute? Why is that important? Can it not be enough that it is? Must I explain myself?” She sat in the chair opposite him.
“No, no. How can you love me after everything I have done to you?”
“What do you mean?”
“He means how can you love him after he came to me, begging me to ruin George and your Papa in order to secure your hand.”
* * *
