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  She could not quite believe that he had returned, could not quite take in that he now stood in her mother’s drawing room, looking at her with those same brilliant blue eyes that had so often haunted her dreams.

  Her mother’s hand tightened gently on Eliza’s shoulder, helping her to remove herself from the strange reverie that seemed now to surround her.

  “Might I ask, Duke, why you have forced yourself into my drawing room?” Lady Whitehaven asked, her voice rather high and certainly sharp. “It is most untoward.”

  The Duke of Avondale bowed again, giving Eliza a moment to catch her breath as his eyes were lowered from hers. His voice was rich and warm, although Eliza was quite sure it held a slight strain.

  “I must apologize, Lady Whitehaven, but your butler stated that you were not taking visitors this afternoon and I could not allow myself to be so restrained,” he replied, with a slight lift of his chin. “I have had a good deal of trouble during the time I have been apart from your family and I could not hold with the idea of being held back again, not even for a moment.”

  Lady Whitehaven cleared her throat delicately, as though she did not quite understand what the Duke was saying but that she also did not care to understand either.

  “May I say that it is very good to see you both again,” the Duke said softly, his eyes lingering on Eliza again. “It has been some time, has it not?”

  Eliza somehow managed to find her voice, her anger beginning to flare as she looked at the man who had betrayed her so, who had broken her completely, and now, in the very same way he had disappeared from her life, had chosen to reappear, simply due to his own desires and wishes. Had he no understanding of the torment she had endured by his hand? Had he no knowledge of what he had inflicted upon her?

  “It has, Your Grace,” she replied, tautly. “And yet, it has not seemed prolonged to me.”

  She did not know what he would make of this remark, knowing that it was nothing more than a lie but not wanting to reveal the depth of her emotion to him. Her heart was raw and bleeding, anger and fury and discontent burning through her. She had only just set her mind and her heart against him and now here he stood, seeming to think that he could intrude upon her life again?

  How foolish she had been to believe that she loved him still! She did not, not when he was so hard and cruel as to simply reappear at her mother’s house, forcing his way into the drawing room instead of remaining outside as propriety dictated. Anger like she had never known before burned within her, her cheeks growing hot with fury as she regarded the duke, refusing to allow his unsettling gaze to affect her.

  The Duke of Avondale cleared his throat and shifted his feet a little, his discomfort evident.

  “I have returned to London, as you can see,” he stated, in a somewhat strangled voice. “I – I had hoped that you might allow me a few moments alone with Lady Wells, Lady Whitehaven.” His eyes turned towards Lady Whitehaven, filled with hope and expectation.

  Thankfully, Lady Whitehaven did not appear to be as unbending as the duke would have wished her to be.

  “You wish to speak to my daughter alone, Your Grace?” she repeated, sounding more than astonished. “I hardly think that is in any way proper.”

  The duke inclined his head, although Eliza noted that he did not look ashamed in any way. “Be that as it may, Lady Whitehaven, I had hoped that with the friendship that was once between us, you might permit me to do so regardless. I have nothing but good intentions for your daughter.”

  “As you once did?” Lady Whitehaven replied, icily, arching an eyebrow. “You can hardly believe that we have forgotten what occurred between yourself and Eliza now, can you?”

  Eliza smiled darkly as Avondale shook his head, his eyes lowering to the ground at his feet. Finally, it seemed, he felt a little shame over his actions towards her. At least there was some comfort in that.

  “I – I am aware that it is much too late to make amends, Lady Whitehaven, but I do wish to speak plainly to Lady Wells.”

  “Why are you here, Avondale?”

  The words ripped from Eliza’s throat before she could prevent them, finding her hands planted firmly on her hips, her back stiff with tension. She glared at Avondale as he looked back at her, seeing the way his jaw worked, his eyes fixed upon hers. He lifted his head, standing tall and strong, just as she remembered him.

  And yet she felt as though she had never truly known him at all. Even now, he was shrouded in secrecy and confusion, and Eliza discovered that she did not wish to know the truth about him any longer. She had made her mind up, had she not? She had decided to accept Lord Montrose’s offer of courtship and was not about to turn her back on him now, simply because Avondale had returned! The thought was quite preposterous.

  “I – I have come in search of you, Lady Eliza,” the duke said, spreading his arms out wide as though this gesture of truth might make her believe he was being honest. “There is a good deal that was left unsaid, a good deal that I did not clarify before and now the time has come for me to do so.”

  Before she could stop herself, Eliza let out a snort of derision, tossing her head. “You must believe, therefore, that I have spent these last two years desperately waiting for your return, Your Grace. You must believe that I am still in agony over your behavior, clinging to a hope that you will one day return to explain it all to me.” She poured scorn into her words, declaring it as much to herself as to the duke. Her own foolishness mocked her but she continued on regardless, seeing Avondale’s eyes lose the tiny spark of hope that had been held within. “I have quite forgotten you, Your Grace. I am already being courted by another.”

  She saw him stiffen, as though her words had truly pierced him.

  “I think, Your Grace, that my daughter has made herself quite clear on the matter,” Lady Whitehaven said, softly, dropping her hand from Eliza’s arm as though she recognized that Eliza no longer required her support. “You may leave us.”

  The duke shook his head, looking down at the floor and making no attempt to do as Lady Whitehaven had asked. Eliza felt herself grow even more frustrated, horrified that tears were pricking at her eyes. She did not wish him to see anything but anger and disfavor in her eyes, knowing that to allow him to see her tears would do her more harm than good. It might allow him to see just how truly hurt she was by his rejection of her, how much of a burden she still carried – and she could not allow that to occur.

  “You may return to your wife, Your Grace,” she said, bluntly, waving him away with one hand. “I am sure that she will be missing your presence already.”

  Something began to crackle in the air between them. A deep, unsettling tension began to wash over them both, making Eliza’s stomach churn uncomfortably, as though she knew that something was wrong in what she had said.

  Avondale’s expression grew haunted, his face appearing to pale as he regarded her. Eliza pressed one hand lightly against her stomach, forcing herself to take deep, even breaths.

  “My wife is gone,” Avondale replied, heavily, his voice dropping low. “I have been in mourning for some time. It has come to an end now, of course, but…..” He trailed off, looking away from them both, his jaw working furiously.

  “I am very sorry for the loss of your Duchess,” Lady Whitehaven replied, her voice holding a good deal more sympathy than Eliza had expected. “We too have experienced such a loss.”

  The Duke of Avondale nodded, turning his head back towards them both. “Of course,” he said, shaking his head. “Do forgive me for not expressing my condolences to you earlier.” He inclined his head. “Lord Whitehaven was a great man and a most respectable gentleman. I am certain that you must feel his loss most keenly.”

  There was a heavy silence for a moment and Eliza glanced up at her mother, seeing the lines of pain forming around her eyes.

  “We do,” Lady Whitehaven replied, thickly. “It is with me every day.”

  Eliza reached out and pressed her mother’s hand gently, wanting to comfort
her as best she could. This was, perhaps, the reason for her mother’s gentle compassion towards his grace upon hearing that his wife had passed away, for their grief could be shared and understood, even though their marriages had been of differing durations.

  “May I ask when you lost your wife?” Lady Whitehaven questioned, letting go of Eliza’s hand as her voice grew a little stronger.

  Avondale’s expression tightened. “It was seven months after our wedding, Lady Whitehaven,” he said, surprising Eliza with the short time he had been wed. “Most unexpected and deeply saddening also.”

  Lady Whitehaven nodded, whilst Eliza trained her eyes onto the duke, trying to make out his expression. There was a deep sadness in his face, his voice betraying the pain of the loss he felt, but there was something more there. An anger, mayhap? An anger that could not be truly expressed, an anger that he was doing his utmost to hide.

  For a moment, Eliza was caught up in a cloud of questions, wondering why Avondale appeared so and questioning what it was he wished to say to her in light of his wife’s death, but then she recalled her own fury and turned away from all thoughts of speaking to him further.

  “We have completed our mourning, as you can see,” Lady Whitehaven finished, gesturing towards Eliza. “We have come to London for the Season and, thus far, my daughters are doing rather well. Dinah, of course, is the exception.”

  This was spoken with a good deal more friendliness than before, sending Eliza’s stomach twisting with frustration. She did not want her mother to allow the sympathy and understanding that she felt over the duke’s loss to begin to encourage the friendship that had once been between their families.

  The Duke of Avondale nodded, although he did not appear particularly interested in hearing about Dinah. His gaze returned to settle on Eliza, his expression fixed as though he were preparing himself for her complete and thorough rejection.

  “You will not allow me to speak with you then, Lady Wells?” he asked, no longer addressing her as ‘Lady Eliza’, as he once had. “Not even to allow me to explain what has gone before?”

  She looked at him steadily, her answer already certain. “I fear, Your Grace, that it is much too late for explanations. I have no need of them, and you have no requirement to give them to me.”

  He shuffled his feet, his head low. “I have never forgotten you, Lady Wells. I have been quite unable to do so.”

  Shocked at his free way of speaking, particularly in front of her mother, Eliza caught her breath and looked away, hating the climbing heat that was already making its way into her face.

  “Your Grace.” Her mother’s reproach was soft yet determined.

  “You must forgive me,” Avondale replied at once, although he did not sound in the least bit apologetic. “I have been quite tormented ever since my parting from your daughter, Lady Whitehaven, and now that there is the opportunity to explain myself to her completely, I find myself longing to do so, even if it is only for the most selfish of motives.”

  Lady Whitehaven arched an eyebrow, throwing a glance at Eliza. Eliza shook her head sharply, making her decision quite clear. She wanted nothing to do with Avondale any longer.

  “Selfish, Your Grace?”

  “I wish to assuage my guilt, somewhat,” Avondale confessed. “I wish I had never spoken so cruelly or treated Lady Wells so disparagingly, but the circumstances at the time required me to separate myself from her entirely. What I would not do for the opportunity to return to that moment and beg her forgiveness for my actions!” His voice became strained with emotion and, much to her frustration, Eliza felt her own heart begin to soften just a little, losing some of the anger that burned within her.

  “There is a good deal more to explain, Lady Wells,” Avondale finished, looking at her beseechingly. “If only you would give me the opportunity to do so, then there might be an end to the anger and frustration you bear towards me.”

  Eliza shook her head, refusing to allow anything she felt to hold sway over her decision. “Your Grace, as I have said before, things between us are quite at an end. You chose to do so, did you not? How can you now claim that you have always been desperate in your urgency to share an explanation with me when the opportunity was there some two years ago?” She tossed her head, her dark ringlets bouncing. “I shall not change my mind, Your Grace. I have chosen to leave you in the past, which is where you shall stay. I have other gentlemen to consider now.”

  Much to her surprise, she saw that the Duke of Avondale’s face fell at these words, appearing quite crestfallen that she had forgotten him entirely. What had he expected? Had he expected her to still be clinging onto his memory, even in the knowledge that he was married and settled? Eliza had to admit that she was more relieved than ever that she had chosen to allow Lord Montrose to court her, glad that she could now state, quite clearly, that she was by the side of another gentleman. That was proof that she had determined to forget the Duke of Avondale entirely, was it not?

  “My daughter is being courted by Lord Montrose,” Lady Whitehaven said, by way of explanation. “The Earl of Montrose, I should say.” She smiled and patted Eliza’s shoulder. “We are all very pleased for her, of course, for he appears to be a wonderful gentleman.”

  Eliza set her face and looked steadily back at Avondale, who was shaking his head as though she had imparted some truly dreadful news. For some minutes, nothing was said, the air growing thick with tension as it clouded the room. Eliza felt her heart begin to quicken, praying that Avondale would not be able to hear what she was sure was an audible thumping.

  “I am much too late, then,” Avondale replied, heavily, not looking at either Eliza or her mother. “It is just as I expected, of course.” He shrugged and began to turn away, hopelessness wrapping itself around him like a thick, dark cloak. “I should never have treated you as I did, Eliza, but there was nothing else for me to do. I had no choice. Mayhap one day you will seek an explanation from me, and I must tell you, Eliza, that I will always be glad to give it.”

  Eliza could not speak, her heart in her throat as she heard her name upon his lips. It sounded so familiar and yet so foreign in equal measure. Her whole being was flung back headlong into the memories of the two of them together – the laughter, the joy and the happiness they had once shared.

  He was the one who tore that from you, she reminded herself, sternly. Do not permit him to use those memories to soften your heart now.

  “I do not think I shall ever do so, Your Grace,” she replied, firmly, as his steps led him to the door. “As I said, I have chosen to set the past aside and turned my heart towards another.”

  The duke nodded miserably, his eyes barely making it to hers before dropping to the floor again.

  “You will be more than welcome to call again, however, Your Grace,” Lady Whitehaven said, much to Eliza’s dismay. “You have friends here, as you know. We shall not reject you entirely, nor give you the cut direct.”

  The duke gave Lady Whitehaven a small smile, although it did not reach his eyes. “That is most gracious of you, Lady Whitehaven, and certainly shows a good deal more kindness than I have ever deserved,” he replied, sadly. “Would that I had shown your daughter the same consideration two years ago. I will express to you both again my deepest regret and my humble apologies, with the only explanation being that I had no other choice. My hands were bound completely, and I was not free to do anything but turn from Lady Wells entirely. Had I been able to make my own decisions, then you would have found me here as Lady Wells’ betrothed, and not as her enemy.”

  Eliza swallowed hard and looked away, refusing to let his words touch her heart. Her anger was billowing towards her mother, unable to understand why Lady Whitehaven had offered such kindness towards Avondale when it was more than apparent that Eliza wanted nothing more to do with the gentleman. She waited until the door closed firmly before rounding on her.

  “Whatever were you thinking, Mama?”

  Lady Whitehaven looked back at her, a little surpr
ised. “What do you mean, Eliza?”

  “You invited the Duke of Avondale back to our household!” Eliza exclaimed, rippling anger coursing through her. “Why should you do such a thing when you know what he has done and how he has treated me?”

  Lady Whitehaven gave Eliza a soft smile, which did nothing to dampen Eliza’s fury.

  “He is suffering, Eliza, can you not see that?”

  The gentle words penetrated through Eliza’s ire, giving her the first inkling into her mother’s consideration towards Avondale.

  “He has lost his wife, Eliza,” Lady Whitehaven said, softly, turning towards her daughter with a look of grief in her eyes. “Even if you are angry with him, even if you are truly set against him – which I fully understand – can you not feel even the slightest compassion for what he has lost?”

  Eliza hesitated, not wanting to answer and yet finding that the truth of her mother’s words was already settling over her heart.

  “You will never need to be present should he be invited to afternoon tea or the like,” her mother promised, reaching for Eliza’s hand and holding it tightly. “I should never force you to do such a thing. However, it may be that he requires someone to speak with who will truly understand his grief and pain.” She lifted her shoulders. “Whom else can understand but another who has lost a spouse?”

  Eliza shook her head, her tension draining away from her despite her desire to cling onto it, to allow it to add fuel to her anger.

  “You are much too generous, Mama,” she admitted, slowly. “I have no such sympathy for him.”

  Her mother sighed and let go of Eliza’s hand. “That may well be so,” she answered, gently, “and I would not hold such things against you. But you may recall, Eliza, that forgiveness is something that we are often encouraged to take a hold of. Your prayers end with such a request, do they not?”

  A small pang of shame burst through Eliza’s heart and she turned away. She did not want to be reminded of such things, nor of her Christian duty to forgive the wounds and pains of the past. It was all much too fresh, much too soon for such things.