“Now tell me,” asked the duchess. “Why are you smiling like that?”
“I really don’t know, Your Grace,” said Beth. “It is all so ridiculous,though. I never wanted any of this.” She shook her head. “I think I hadbest go to bed and rest.”
The duchess watched Elizabeth walk away and sighed. She had observedher son and his bride-to-be and was perplexed. At times they acted welland at others they ignored one another. Sometimes, if they had theopportunity to talk, they appeared to rub along together marvelously; shehad been pleased to see her intelligent son using his brains instead ofsinking to the inanities of most of his fashionable friends. At othertimes, however, they almost seemed to hate each other and now, it wouldappear, Elizabeth was afraid of him.
She thought of speaking to Lucien, but Marleigh informed her he was outwith his friends. As usual. She went instead in search of the duke andfound him in the library.
He stood courteously until she had taken a seat opposite him, but hewatched her warily. The duchess realized she had never sought him out likethis before, and following the thought, she had a revelation. Their wholelife since Lucien’s birth seemed now to have been distorted beyond reason.She forgot that she had come to talk of the marriage.
“Why?” she asked softly. “Why have we done this to ourselves?” She sawhim almost flinch under the question. “William, why have we let such smallmistakes ruin our lives?”
“Small?” he asked sharply. “Having an heir who is not my son is not asmall matter to me.”
She almost fled back behind the barriers of formality but steeledherself. “It happens, though. The whole world knows Melbourne’s heir isLord Egremont’s, and there are other families in the same predicament. Dothey all fall apart as we have done?”
He stood sharply. “We have not fallen apart. I have treated you withrespect. I have treated Arden as my own son in every way.”
“In every way?” she queried.
He turned back, and her heart caught at the feeling in his eyes. “Ilove him, Yolande. How many times have I longed for ignorance? He caninfuriate me,” he said with a slight smile, “but all offspring do that attimes. At his best I could never wish for a finer son.”
“Why then can you not forgive me?” she cried.
He came quickly over and fell to one knee by her chair. “Forgive you? Iforgave you the moment you told me, Yolande. Have I reproached you?”
She felt quite strange. Was she really over fifty years old? She wasflustered like a girl again. She reached out to touch his hair, first withher fingers, then with the whole of her hand as she caressed him. “No, mydear,” she said softly, “you never reproached me. But you could not bearto touch me.”
He captured her hand and pressed a burning kiss into her palm. “I haveached for you, Yolande, with a greater pain than I could ever haveimagined. Sleepless nights. Dreams of you so real I would wake in horror,thinking I had been with you ...”
“Horror?” she asked, clenching her hands on his. “Horror?”
“You will hate me for this,” he said softly, but he raised his head tomeet her eyes. “If I had given you another son, Yolande, I believe I wouldhave killed Arden.”
Her grip relaxed, but she did not loose his hand. “William, you couldnever have done that.”
He pulled away from her, rose, and went to stand across the room.“Perhaps not,” he said in a hard voice, “but I would certainly havearranged his disappearance. The dukedom belongs to a de Vaux. Ironically,I think Lucien could understand that, even if you cannot.”
The duchess could feel the smile on her face and the tears in her eyes.She rose lightly and went to him. She wrapped her arms around him. “Well,it is certainly not a matter which need bother us anymore, my love.”
His arms had come around her with a lift of their own, and he lookeddazed.
“Yolande? After what I said?”
“Perhaps you would have done as you say. We will never know now.” Shereached up gently to touch his cheek. “I, too, have ached,” she saidunsteadily. Her fingers traced softly over his lips. “You called himLucien.”
The duke captured her wandering fingers and imprisoned them in his own.“I what?”
“You have never ever called him Lucien. It has always been Arden, evenwhen he was a baby. Thank God for Elizabeth.” She was beyond subterfugeand the simplest of words escaped her. “Love me, William.”
His eyes darkened. “Yolande. It’s been so long.”
Fires kept banked for over twenty years were burning in her. “Have youforgotten how?” she teased. “Don’t worry. I remember.”
“Oh God,” he groaned. “So do I.” With that his lips came down on hers,and it was as if the years between evaporated and they were still young.Her hands slipped under his jacket and felt the same fine lines of hisback. Her tongue tasted the special, wonderful taste of him. Her bodyeasily found the well-remembered contours and fitted itself to them.
His lips left hers and traced down her neck. To come against theruffled collar of her gown. “Since when,” he growled, “did you take towearing high-necked gowns?”
“Since I was forty,” she laughed, giddy with delight. “Allow me amoment with my maid and I can correct it.”
