“It wasn’t merely your family being unlucky,” Elsie said, her thoughts catching on her sister. “I mean, your uncle treated my mother terribly, and as for Margot…”
A frown creased his happy face, and Kit paused. “She isn’t his goddaughter, is she?”
Despite it not being a question, Elsie shook her head. “Margot is your uncle’s natural daughter.”
“And you?”
“I’m not related to you,” Elsie said. “There’s no aristocratic blood in my veins.”
“Did you wish—or rather, did your sister wish to receive something from me? From the estate?” There was a tiniest fraction of coldness to his query, and it angered Elsie.
“The previous duke did nothing for my mother, abandoning her and their unborn child. If Margot expected anything, I don’t think that unreasonable, do you?”
“I am not angry with you or your sister. I am embarrassed by my family. By how my uncle behaved,” he said, running a hand over his face. “My father often spoke of how his brothers treated women, and I swore I would not behave in such a manner. I would never abandon you to such a fate.”
Elsie had no idea of precisely how to respond to that. Her decision to fall into Kit’s arms had been one driven by love, need, and fear of what could have happened to him. She had not considered the consequences of it, never once thinking she might fall pregnant.
Without entirely realising it, she raised her arm in a protectivegesture, suddenly motivated by a dread of what might happen to her if she found herself in her mother’s position. When she raised her eyes, she found she did not wish to voice any of those things to him, instead she said her earlier words, ones she’d promised her sister to repeat, “Your uncle set aside a provision for Margot, an annuity that would see her comfortable.”
“I will honour it.”
His pronouncement should have been greeted with relief, or at least a welcomed smile, but Elsie could not bring herself to do that. Instead, guilt for her decision was rolling through her—the shame her grandmother had spoken of when she’d been found with Captain Graves arrived within her, twisting through her unpleasantly.
“Where are you going?” He tried to snatch up her hand once more. “You have been chasing me to leave Tintagel since the moment you arrived, and now you have my agreement, you cannot wait to be rid of me?” There was a lightness, a teasing quality to his voice. If it had been the Elsie of thirty minutes ago, she might have laughed with him, but now all she could see was the future: their arrival in Town, him signing off the papers, and packing Margot and her away, before sinking into the legendary Season with the purpose of finding a bride.
It would happen, and Elsie would read about the wedding months from now, locked in a sad and lonely cottage at some great distance away. An image of her with a rounded belly pranced through her mind, and she could not decide whether it would be a worse torture to bear Kit’s child without him, or to have nothing to remember him by. “Is it that now you have your sister’s annuity, you have no need of me?”
“That is not the case.” How she wished she could tell him to be quiet, to cease his teasing and to let her think for a moment. “I am happy you mean to come with us. It is what I wished for.”
“I know.” Kit drew nearer. “I meant to send for you, so your arrival is most fortunate.”
“Indeed?”
“Yes, Locke did not just agree to my plan, he also provided the second key to our lock box.”
“I suppose you will need funds to get you up to Town,” Elsie said as Kit drew her over to the desk.
“Well, that was in part why it was useful to see him. But not merely for that reason.” He gestured at the desk, which currently had a stack of bank notes on it and what looked to be a series of jewellery boxes.
“I thought you told me that Tintagel had very little in the way of funds.”
“Those are the family jewels, a few trinkets. I suppose there will be a greater collection in London.” With ease, Kit leant forward and prised them open, revealing a string of pearls, an amber pendant, several gold bands, and what looked like a pearl and sapphire ring.
“Lady Flora will look most lovely in the pearls.” Elsie wondered if the other pieces would be worn by his eventual bride.
“And yourself?” Kit asked, lifting first the amber piece to her neck and then lowering it when he saw her expression. “Don’t cry Elsie. You do realise I am asking you to marry me?”
“No,” Elsie said, turning towards him in confusion, her hands coming to rest and then twisting in the front of his shirt. She looked up into his handsome face, frowning. “No.” She had not realised it in the slightest, and it annoyed her no end. “You haven’t asked me. You have simply shown me some items of jewellery.”
He released her and snatched up the sapphire ring from the desk before lowering himself before her, bending at the knee in the traditional pose of a proposal and lifting the sparkling ring towards Elsie. “Now do you believe me?”
But all she could do was stare at him in a state of shock.
CHAPTER 20
Kit had been dwelling on the choice of proposing to Elsie for the last twenty-four hours—he supposed he could admit it might be considered an abrupt one but to him, the decision felt like a blessing—and why shouldn’t he? As someone who had believed for far too long that he could never have such a lovely thing as a happy marriage, the possibility of children or the longed-for love, and it could all be achieved if he wed Elsie.
If she said yes. He needed her to, although his pride would not allow him to admit as such. It wasn’t honourable, his need to possess her, to feel as if she was his and his alone, but there it was, a hard and undeniable feeling riding through him. There would be such a relief in having a person who was his own, a solace too long denied him—a form of comfort that forever had seemed out of reach.
