Forever Yours Series Bundle (Book 1-3)

Fear and hope darted through her in equal measure.

“If you are we will marry…for the sake of our child.”

She nodded mutely. Her despair deepened, and she rested her forehead on her knees and wept for losing what she had so badly desired for so many years, but had been too terrified to reach for.

Chapter 11

Elliot stood in the forecourt of Bellview Manor and watched as the door gently closed on Emma’s retreating back, his chest tight, his heart racing. She’d said no…again. He’d been prepared for her rejection, but it still hurt like a brutal punch to his gut. It had been a mistake to touch her, to smell her, to taste her skin, and slide into her, to take pleasure from her. How she had taken him just now had been the most satisfying experience of Elliot’s life, yet the most hollow and heartrending. Emma’s eyes offered everything to him and promised nothing. He never thought it possible to feel the emotional pain that had cut into him like a knife just now. He tried to reason around the awful feelings seething in his gut and could find no relief. What a fool he had been to think her coming to him at the masquerade meant more. What a fool he had been to allow her back into his heart after all the years of rejection. Elliot sheathed his emotions in ice, burying the disappointment burning in his gut.

Every instinct clamored for him to barge into the manor, snatch her into his arms and never let her go. Instead, he turned and moved toward the stables, calling for his horse. He would have to let her go. It was impossible to fight for someone who would forever push him away. Enough was enough. Yet the very notion of truly losing her settled against his heart like a boulder. He faltered, slapping his hand against his forehead, lifting his face to the sky, desperately seeking the warmth of the sun to melt the cold, hollow knot of loss wrapping around his heart.

It was difficult to move, to breathe, to imagine a future without her, to think clearly. Cursing his weakness, he mounted his horse and rode home, blanking everything from his thoughts, only feeling the wind on his face as he rode. Several hours later he rested at an inn, where his assurance it was not necessary prevented the proprietor from trying to remove a couple with their children from the establishment’s best room. Elliot took a much simpler room with a narrow cot and tried to sleep. He failed abysmally. He could find no peace.

After another few hours of restlessness, he departed the inn and continued towards his estates. He rode through the night, the cold nipping at his bones, his superfine jacket inadequate protection against the chill of the night. But he was undaunted and continued traveling, thankful for once since he’d left Emma, visions of her did not haunt him.

The sun had risen, and lit the land in rays of sunshine when Elliot arrived at Glenhaven Manor quite surprised to see at least six ladies strolling across the lawns, their parasols open to protect their delicate skin from the sun. He handed his horse over to the stables and made his way to the main house. The butler, Andrews, opened the door before Elliot knocked. He faltered as the gentle playing of a pianoforte echoed through the long hallway of the manor.

“Andrews, what is going on?”

The butler cleared his throat. “The duchess is in residence, along with a few young ladies, Your Grace.”

He handed over his top hat, and then made his way to the parlor. His grandmother did not reside with him at Glenhaven, at least not since she’d opened the dower house over two years past. Nor did she arrive without informing him, nor did she extend invitations to ladies to visit his home.

Reaching the drawing room, he pushed wider the ajar door and stepped inside.

“Grandmother.”

The chattering ceased, and four pairs of hopeful eyes turned in his direction. He was familiar with Lady Felicity, and Lady Olivia, both ladies from estimable family. The other two ladies seemed familiar, but their name escaped him at the moment. His grandmother stood, her lips firmly pinched, but there was some measure of a smile in her eyes.

Was she pleased to see him? Strange that, for she was an utterly humorless lady.

Swift introductions were made, and the ladies dipped into elegant curtseys. Their eyes held hope and expectations he did not understand, and a sliver of alarm went through him. His grandmother deftly and delicately dismissed the lot, and Elliot closed the door as the last lady exited.

“What is going on?” he asked without preamble.

She sat in the chair closest to the windows, her cane clasped in her hand, appearing like a queen on her throne. Her chin lifted. “These are the leading young ladies from the ten finest families in London. I’ve signaled your intention to select a wife by inviting them to Glenhaven Manor, you will select a wife from one of these ladies,” she said imperiously.

&nb

sp; “I beg your pardon?”

“I am partial to Lady Lavinia, she is very accomplished and poised, well-mannered and genteel. Plays the pianoforte with admirable skills, and her needle point is excellent.”

“I see.”

“You will sit beside her at tonight’s dinner, and you will signal your interest which she will be very grateful and—”

Elliot laughed. His grandmother scowled, and never had he seen a more ferocious image. “Forgive my unexpected humor, I meant no insult. I simply had an unexpected realization.”

“One you will no doubt share,” she said frostily.

“It is always honorable and worthwhile to fight for that which is worthy,” Elliot murmured. “A notion my father taught me from as early as I can recall, and I seemed to have forgotten it over the years. I do hope they will not suffer any embarrassment when I send the ladies home. I am not interested in marrying any of them.”

She surged to her feet. “What nonsense. You must marry and produce an heir.”

“I hope with my heart I will have that happiness.”

A frown chased her brows, and golden eyes narrowed. “You are the duke of—”