Page 73 of Without Pride and Prejudice
“Just watch.” He pointed to the small flat-screen TV hanging on the wall.
This was weird, but I was more than curious, especially when Kingston turned the channel to one of the evening news programs in the UK.
We all glued ourselves to the screen. The correspondents covered some key segments about parliament, the weather, and the royal family—nothing out of the ordinary. I kept glancing at Fitz, questioning why we were watching the news, but he said nothing. He just kept running his thumb over my skin and smiling to himself. Things didn’t get interesting until the last segment when the woman correspondent said, “Tonight we have an exclusive interview with His Grace, the Duke of Blackthorne, Alastair Fitzroy.”
We all whipped our heads in Fitz’s direction—well, minus Kingston, who obviously knew about this. Fitz hated doing interviews.
“Is this about the new program you want to start at Oxford?” I asked. He’d been hoping to reach out to the community and offer free classes in history and literature.
“Just watch,” is all Fitz would say.
Nothing, and I mean nothing, could have prepared me for what I saw next. There, in a posh room, across from the correspondent, sat Fitz, sporting a bonnet like it was commonplace for him to wear nineteenth-century women’s millinery—and not just any hat, but one of the actual bonnets that Grams and I had made. I couldn’t help but giggle, even though my heart felt like bursting. “Fitz,” I cried.
“Shh. Listen, darling,” he said playfully.
Okay, fine, he could call medarling. I snuggled closer to him, listening intently. Nothing but the purest kind of love wouldhave induced Fitz to do something so wholly against his nature and upbringing.
“Have you gone bonkers?” Anna laughed. “Mum is going to be flapped over this.”
Oh, yeah she was.
The correspondent was doing her best to keep a straight face while she interviewed him. “In recent days, an article has been circulating regarding a woman whom some refer to as the next Duchess of Blackthorne.”
They flashed the photo on the screen of me at the airport wearing all my bonnets and a couple of dresses around my neck.
I started to cringe, but then the picture flashed back to Alastair, looking ridiculous and perfect.
“Would you like to address those rumors, Your Grace?”
“Yes, but first, I would like to state that we must never tolerate bullying, whether online or in person.” He adjusted his bonnet as if making his point.
I kissed his cheek, and he smiled, pleased with himself.
“To base an opinion on a photo without even knowing the context,” Fitz continued, “is absolute rubbish. That image and nasty article failed to tell the actual story. The beautiful woman wearing the bonnets had given away her luggage to an injured passenger on her flight, which necessitated wearing the contents of the bag on her person.”
The correspondent swallowed hard, as if she herself had judged me to be a loon. Not saying I wasn’t, but people should at least get to know me before making that assessment. But she quickly recovered and sat up in a dignified manner. “What an excellent reminder, Your Grace. So ...”—she leaned in eagerly—“will we be calling this good Samaritan the new Duchess of Blackthorne?”
The Duchess of Blackthorne. It was a scary title—one I had never wanted, but I wanted Fitz. I knew it meant having to face this fear.
“You know I don’t comment on my love life.” Fitz slyly smiled. “But I will say I would be the luckiest man in the world if she would have me.”
Whatever was said after that, I don’t know. I sat up and faced Fitz, bleary-eyed from the onslaught of tears.
Fitz gently brushed a few of them away with his thumb while giving me the most tender expression I’d ever seen. “Monroe, I am so sorry I hurt you and kept all of myself from you. There is no bigger regret in my life. I am the only one in our relationship of whom I am embarrassed. I love you, my darling friend. Most ardently,” he added.
“I don’t need you totalk Darcyto me.” I looked up at him from under my eyelashes. “I was thinking I would love it more if youtalked duketo me.” Oh yes, I said that as coyly as I could.
“In that case,” he crooned, “everyone out.”
I blushed at the knowing looks everyone gave as they filed out.
“In a hospital bed, no less,” Anna laughed on her way to the door.
It’s not where I would have imagined the greatest moment of my life happening, but then again, we’re talking about me, so I should have assumed it would be some place odd.
Once everyone had left and the door was closed, Fitz took me in his arms, his hand gently cradling the back of my head, making sure not to press on the bump from my fall. He entangled his fingers in my hair and drew my face closer until we breathed in each other’s breaths. “Monroe, you are my best mate, my greatest love, the reason I know love exists. I want every part of you.”
Every goose bump I had perked up and applauded. Fitz was good—so good. Better than Mr. Darcy, in my estimation. Sorry, Jane Austen.
