Twenty-nine
There are many wonderful things, but none more wonderful than man.
—Sophocles,Antigone
Collin arrived early the morning of the scheduled departure to London. He’d spent the day before arranging everything for his afternoon plans with Michael, but in the middle of the plans, his thoughts had never been far from Elizabeth.
Molly opened the door and ushered him in. The hall was lined with several trunks, and the footmen he’d brought from the duke’s residence had begun lifting and loading everything Molly indicated. Collin left them to their work and found Elizabeth and her father in the parlor. Elizabeth was scribbling something on a parchment, and her father was patting his coat pockets, as if assuring himself that he’d not left anything important behind.
“Good morning,” he greeted Collin.
Elizabeth’s eyes shot up and her welcoming smile filled his heart. “Good morning,” she answeredsoftly. She folded the piece of parchment and set the quill down.
He withdrew a small letter from his coat pocket and walked over to her, offering it to her. Elizabeth smiled shyly and took the note, and then lifted the one she’d just finished and offered it to him.
“Ah, I see we had the same plans.”
“For once,” she returned with a teasing grin.
Collin tucked the paper in his coat and offered her his hand. “Will you sit with me a moment?”
“Of course.” She took a seat beside him on the settee where, only a short while ago, he’d offered her his heart and hand. Memories flooded him as he regarded her. “I wanted to say thank you for leaving somewhat abruptly for London and also for trusting me.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Of course, and it was the most practical and reasonable option. Part of me desperately wants to stay behind to make sure you’re safe…but I won’t delude myself into thinking I’m in any position to save you.”
“You saved me.” He touched her chin softly. “You saved me from a life of apathy and hopelessness.”
She grasped his hand as it held her chin and speared him with her gaze. “No. You allowed yourself to see the beauty, the potential, and seized the opportunity to live it,” she said with a smile. “That’s courage, bravery, and much harder than letting someone do the saving for you.”
“Wise and beautiful… I’m a lucky man.”
“Very, very lucky.” She arched a brow, and as her attention dipped to his lips, he had to pull back before he kissed her for the first time right in front of her father. Truthfully, he had no reservations about it, but he rather thought that Elizabeth might. And the first time he kissed her, he wanted her full attention, not sharing it with some distraction like her father’s presence.
“Joan is expecting you,” he said, forcing his thoughts in line. “She will have received my letter before you arrive and will possibly accost you when you get there.” He chuckled.
“Should I be afraid?” she asked playfully.
“Yes,” he said, his expression serious. A smile spread across his face. “No, Joan is all I have for family, and it’s giving me great joy to know that marrying you will give her a sister. We’ve lost much of our family. It’s time to add back to the numbers.” His face twisted as he said the words.
“Do we have a moment? Can you tell me what happened?” Elizabeth asked, touching his face lightly with her gloved hand. He leaned into her touch and nodded once. “My parents passed—my father, then my mother. My twin brother—”
Elizabeth gasped, her expression puckering in sorrow.
“He was lost in a fire, as was my brother-in-law’s brother. In fact, several of London’s families lost their heirs in that fire.”
“They were all together?” Elizabeth asked, tipping her head, her expression deeply sympathetic.
“Yes, it was a party for one of my brother’s closest friends. I didn’t attend. I was on a mission with the War Office, or else I would have perished too. I still carry guilt over that.” He shrugged. Admitting something he’d never said out loud was easier than he’d expected. He continued. “Joan and I were left alone after that.”
“That’s…a lot of loss.” Elizabeth brushed her thumb against his cheek.
“It is. And still life moves on, which I think is harder,” he admitted.
She nodded. “It is. When my mother died, that’s exactly how I felt. How I still feel. And there’s the crippling fear of losing my father…or anyone else I love.” She glanced down. “It’s not something you get over.”
“It’s not,” he answered, wonder filling his heart that in talking about the most painful moments of his life, he was experiencing real comfort and understanding. Elizabeth had known loss as well, known it deeply. It changed a person, and he loved her even more for her compassion.
“So Joan, she’ll likely tell you I was a tyrant—which I sort of was—but you understand why now. She was all I had left.” He shrugged a shoulder.
