Eliza waved the sapphire betrothal ring beneath the woman’s upturned nose.
The duchess slapped her hand away. “You are just like your mother—seducing your betters. Have you no reckoning of what you’ve done? Are you determined to be the ruination of yet another honorable gentleman?”
The hairs on Eliza’s neck prickled. Her pulse quickened and her mouth went dry. She barely choked out, “What doyouknow about my mother?”
“Nothing, thank Heaven, but I know whereyoucome from! How you came to be born!” Her Grace clutched her coat to her breast like a shield. To her, Eliza was a contagion whose sin could corrupt them all. “I do not want you near my husband or moving in the same social circles as my children. I am prepared to pay you handsomely to disappear.”
The Duchess of Bodlington produced a cheque drawn from her account at Stannard-Hopeley. Eliza took it, read it, and then laughed to herself.
“You dare to sneer?” the woman balked. “Fifteen hundred pounds is a fortune for someone like you. You’re a child of the gutter! Did you expect to be accepted into society? You’ll be a laughingstock. Sir Mark will be a laughingstock. Don’t you realize the connections he’ll lose with you as his wife? Take the money, girl! There will be other men.”
Eliza shook her head. “There is no man like Mark.”
She thrust the cheque toward the duchess, who then tore it in half. “You give me no choice. I shall have Mark van Bergen removed from the Court of Directors. I’ll use my considerable influence to ensure that neither he nor his family ever works in finance again. Every door in London will be shut in his face, and in his sister’s face, as well. I shall destroy the reputation of anyone who shelters you.”
“What have any of us ever done to you?” She reached for the duchess, pleading, “Nobody needs to know about my parentage. I didn’t even suspect His Grace ’till now!”
Yet the old dragon rebuked her. “Wretched creature, you ought to have been drowned at birth! I’ll see to it that you never know peace.”
Tears stung Eliza’s eyes. They scalded her cheeks as they streamed down her face.“Why?”
“Because you represent everything that is wrong with modern society—poverty, thievery, treachery, and immorality. You are a bastard! The product of wickedness! I find your existence distasteful and am determined that you shall never cross paths with my family. If that means I must shun the Coopers, Sir Mark van Bergen, and your dear Miss Prevost, then so be it. I am prepared to do whatever it takes to protect my children. I shall spare my husband the sight of you, you disgusting reminder of his lechery!”
It wasn’t fair! Her parentage wasn’t her fault. She’d done nothing wrong. Mother had done nothing wrong, and neither had Mark. Must they all be punished for love?
Eliza understood how the world worked. She knew that the Bodlingtons held unfathomable power in society, government, and commerce. Every person she loved now risked their wrath.
“I won’t take your fifteen hundred pounds,” said she, sadly. “I don’t need it. I don’t want it. But I will go—if you swear to forgive Sir Mark, Ann and Sidney Cooper, and Hilda Prevost. Let them keep their homes, jobs, and reputations. Let them forget that they ever knew me, and I’ll leave Green Street forever.”
The duchess was determined to punish and degrade her. To show her no mercy. The woman yearned for Eliza’s suffering, physically and emotionally. Her Grace’s only thought was to break an innocent girl for the crime of her birth.
Victory must’ve tasted sweet on the duchess’ tongue, for she salivated. “Very well.”
Eliza lowered her head. She would never stop loving Mark. She would love Ann, Sidney, and little Geoffrey. She would treasure Hilda’s friendship, and miss the comfortable life she’d enjoyed here in Mayfair. But it would be better for everyone if Eliza Summersby disappeared.
CHAPTER FORTY
Mark returned home from the Bank at his usual time. As his landau rounded the corner from Park Lane, he observed the pedestrians on this fine, late Spring afternoon. They appeared fashionable and cheerful, without a care in the world. Even the crossing-sweepers and dustmen of Mayfair were in better condition than Eliza had been on the night he’d met her.
There was such poverty and disparity in the world, yet he had lived sheltered from the worst of it. Mark believed that society was fair to those who lived decently and worked tirelessly, but the Duke of Bodlington had been shielded by his title while May Summersby had been punished bitterly for daring to rise above her station and love a man beyond her reach.
Mark vowed that Eliza wouldn’t suffer the same fate.
She would be his wife, his partner. His equal in all things. He would demand that she receive the respect she deserved from his peers and colleagues—and their wives and daughters, too. Folk would know better than to mention the Bodlingtons in her presence! If anyone dared to comment on the likeness of Lady van Bergen and Lady Ermentrude Prendergast, Mark swore they’d regret it.
For now, however, he was relieved to see the well-scrubbed façade of his house. Through the flowerpots and open windows of his drawing room, he tasted tea and salmon sandwiches. He anticipated the sweetness of cream cakes and Eliza’s welcoming kiss.
They’d only been apart since luncheon, yet he was starved for her.
He descended from the carriage with a spring in his step. He crossed the kerbstone and strode through the doorway of his home. Pearson stood at attention, as was his custom, yet the foyer seemed empty and dark. Mark laughingly wondered whether someone had put out the lights.
Where was Eliza to offer him a warm reception after a long day?
He handed over his hat and his gloves. “Is Miss Summerby in the garden, Pearson?”
“I am afraid not, Sir Mark,” replied the butler. “She has left.”
“Left?” He shrugged from his frock coat and slung it over the newel post. “Has she gone somewhere with Ann or Miss Prevost, perhaps? Did she think to surprise me with another fish and chip supper? Though God only knows where she found a decent chippy hereabouts…”
