The horrors she had been drawn against. That this bright, beautiful woman had suffered so much. In rapid succession, she had been raped, scorned by the people who should have loved and defended her, gave birth faraway from any medical doctor, and all on her own. How one vulnerable girl had faced a world gone mad. He cursed her parents.
She pushed away from him, but he held her solid. “I-I don’t deserve anyone’s affection. I am not worthy.”
He offered her his handkerchief. “Dry your tears,” he said with gentleness, far from the roar he forced down in his throat. “You are a prize worth more than all the gold in the world.”
The stinging grief and crushing guilt she suffered had never abated. To think she maneuvered to have her daughter close to her. He admired her genius and her boldness in going up against the odds. But the weight of that deception was like a lodestone around her neck. And now with that worthless piece of humanity, the duke, her efforts were for naught. Her daughter would be ripped from her arms.
To exhibit the tremendous strength and courage she had, striving to do good, to push away her pain and sufferings, and then she did everything in her power to protect others. Elizabeth’s kindness to an orphan boy, rescuing him from the violence of a baker. Raising money to support more orphans from hopeless despair and the wickedness of the streets, making sure they were educated, fed, provided for, demonstrated her compassion.
Her optimism to help widows and abandoned mothers and their children from the vinegar of poverty. That she faced a tyrannical mother, an indifferent and selfish father, rising against puritanical social mores said so much about her.
That she put up with Zachary’s stubbornness confirmed she was beyond an angel…and she cried for the profound lonelinessthat filled her heart, and a future that seemed bleak and uncertain.
She touched his soul. Zachary held her, thinking of the guardian angel picture that suspended over his bed when he was a child. She was that angel. “You are nothing but goodness, Elizabeth.”
With her tear-strewn face, she looked up at him. “Then what is it? I’m laying my heart at your feet, Zachary.”
“I want you, Elizabeth, but I want you to have the best. I can’t support a wife and child. We are building at a fast pace and huge orders are coming in every day. I know I will succeed.”
“I have no more time,” she whispered
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Postpone, delay, anything you must do. Give me time, Elizabeth. I’ll give you the world.”
“I don’t want the world. I want you. I want Caroline and a family. Can you imagine, I have dreamed of going to Missouri and living in that farmhouse as long as you were with me. I don’t need riches. I want a family, a real family where I can love and be loved.”
Diagrams, blueprints, machines, all his old tools left him. She struggled to break free, but he held her tight until she collapsed against him, still sobbing, her head bowed, her body slumped and wetting his shirt with her tears.
She pounded his chest. “If it’s not me, there is something else. Admit it to me.”
He felt as if she squeezed him, and the swelling in his throat hurt as if something were trying to get out that couldn’t. His hands tightened. The knives of a former betrayal cut deep. He balled his fists. “I cannot marry...”
Martha’s words rang out.“You were so easy to fool, Zachary. And while you were giving me sonnets of love, we have built your creation.”
Zachary took a deep breath, pushed Elizabeth away.
“If you refuse to tell me why, then I will,” said Elizabeth. “Amanda told me about that couple at the ball.”
“She shouldn’t have told you…she should not have interfered.” The walls of his office closed in on him, suffocating him. His hands clenched and unclenched, reliving every moment.
She did not tell me anything more than you already had told me. She told me that it was for you to tell. What has affected you so? What kernel of your life has dragged you down?”
The room fell silent, their gazes locked and the tension in the air palpable.
“I feel you owe me an explanation.”
How hard it was to voice the words out loud. He looked out the windows and over the despicable soot-soaked rooftops. Years of secrets, of hiding the truth, weighed on his shoulders with back-breaking force. “The scene on the altar…is like yesterday. My bride, Martha, never appeared. I thought someone had harmed her. Thought she was in danger. That she’d never miss the most momentous day of our lives. I caught up with my bride to receive the shock of my life. Six gunmen. Six Colt revolvers pointed at my heart.”
“And then what?”
He shook his head in anger, his voice in agony from the memory. “Martha, why weren’t you at the church?”
“The church? I can’t commit bigamy. Meet my husband, Elias Johnson.” She had laughed and waved for a well-dressed man to enter the room.
“She held up a document. ‘Thank you for your ingenuity. We’ve secured the patent. Our company is built, producing and will be making us huge sums of money. Thanks to your brilliance.’
“I ripped the paper from her hands. The guns went up. I didn’t care. I hated her. I hated all women. Elias and MarthaJohnson were the owners of what should have been my patent. Years of my work stolen and there wasn’t a damned thing I could do about it.”
“Look at me,” Elizabeth commanded. “I understand your hurt and mistrust. I’m not that woman. Never would be. I’ll always be loyal to you.”
