“Perhaps. It will be seen as similar to losing a libel case. I did not prove, with my body, that Tewkesbury was lying. Therefore, he must have been telling the truth. I imagine Monkton is drafting the papers to transfer ownership of the Bellmonte land and title to its new heir as we speak, with a sizable portion for himself, of course. But he is as bound to the marriage clause as I. I still have just under three weeks. The fact that everyone thinks it afait d’accompliis neither here nor there. Provided I have the proof that Amelia has rejected me on grounds unrelated to my supposedadultery.”
“You say it so easily. You must go back. I will talk to Monkton and tell him the truth. This needs to be addressed immediately,” Charlotte said urgently.
She raised her hand to bang on the roof as a signal to the driver, but Seth grabbed her hand and pulled it down to her lap.
“Do not. There is nothing to be done. I feel no regret, merely the lifting of a great weight from about my shoulders,” he began, “I am truly free for the first time in my life. Free of my father, free of his legacy, his attempts to control my life even when he is in his grave. I will not squirm to hold onto dirt and gold. Or a name. If I do not provide the proof by the time required, then I will make my own name, and Tewkesbury can choke on his new title for all I care. I am free to choose, and I choose you. Didn’t I say I would?”
He smiled, and it was like a beam of sunshine breaking through the clouds. Charlotte felt a lightness in her heart, the first stirrings of hope.
Perhaps I am the kind of woman for whom a man is willing to give up everything.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Seth whispered, gazing into her eyes.
“I’m thinking that it hardly seems believable to me that a duke would risk his birthright for me. That he would break his sword and run away...”
“Notaway,” he corrected, “I run to you. The dukedom demanded I stay in London and defend my name. I rejected that demand. I came to you and damn everything else! Besides, it does not take three weeks to ride to York. We will speak to Amelia, and she will provide the proof we need. All is not lost.”
Charlotte found herself laughing. She kissed Seth, running her hand through his hair and pressing her forehead to his.
“This is madness. What if we are waylaid? By weather, or a horse throwing its hoof, you lose everything. How will we live? On the annuity my parents left me? That’s scarcely enough for me to live on, let alone both of us.”
“You are so practical. I hadn’t given it a thought,” Seth chuckled gaily, “I will plow fields or learn a trade. I’ll draw on every penny of my fortune while it’s mine and leave Tewkesbury with as little as possible.”
“If Monkton hasn’t already applied to your bank to seize your assets,” Charlotte pointed out.
Seth grinned and shrugged again. He seemed lighter as if the world couldn’t weigh him down any longer. It was infectious. Charlotte found herself imagining living in a cottage in the Dales of Yorkshire. A smallholding with some livestock. Seth tending the land with Charlotte by his side.
A far cry from Hampton Court and boxes at the Theater Royal. But it has a romantic appeal. After all, I knew Amelia’s life in London could not be mine forever. It was only ever a brief adventure.
“I think you underestimate how difficult life can be for those without any means to support themselves,” she stated.
Seth kissed her. She let the kiss sweep her away for a moment, but her fears returned.
“I do not think you have considered...”
He kissed her again, and her concerns vanished for the duration of the kiss. When it ended, she found herself in his arms. The carriage rumbled along the road, and the rain had become so heavy that it rattled against the windows. But Charlotte felt safe inside.
In the arms of my man.
It was an intensely thrilling thought—not in the arms of her duke, but simply with her man. Could it come to pass? It seemed surreal that he would give up the wealth and privilege of a dukedom for nothing but her.
“I cannot pretend to understand your decision. It is inconceivable to me,” she whispered.
“You don’t have to believe my words, only my actions. I know how little meaning my words have.” He leaned back, his eyes fixed on something in the far distance. But there was a solemnness painting his expression as he spoke now. “As a rake and a libertine, I have spent a lifetime spouting empty phrases. Just trust in my actions for one day. Then tomorrow, see what comes. Then the next day. You’ll see.”
They rode in silence in the carriage for a long time. Charlotte felt content now that Seth was back with her, though she still frankly disbelieved the turn of events.
“What would your father think?” she asked suddenly, the weight of their choices still pressing on her chest.
He looked at her sideways. “He would be horrified. If it weren’t a contradictory action, he might disown me for even suggesting it.”
“And your mother?” she added.
He was quiet for a moment. Then, with a breath that sounded almost like a sigh, he murmured, “My mother might have understood. Once. Before she learned it was safer to stay silent.”
He glanced away, jaw tight.
“I was sent to boarding school after the incident with the portrait. I must have been nine. My father kept a painting of our ancestors—grim, sour men in powdered wigs. I said they looked like corpses. I thought it was a joke. He didn’t.”
