The duke and duchess stood silent, clearly aware that their supportive presence was all that was needed at this moment. Their willingness to listen was a sign of their power and strength.
Tom was grateful for it as his hands curled into fists as he felt a wave of panic wash through him. “Blackwood you promised me no accidents. We decided—”
“It was not an accident,” Blackwood said firmly, “I did not shoot him and he did not run away like the others on the dueling field.”
“Then what happened?” Elizabeth gasped, her eyes wide with confusion.
“He fell ill, if you can believe it.” Blackwood shrugged, clearly having no sympathy for the dead earl. But he was watching Elizabeth carefully. “It was gradual, over the last two weeks. You see, it seems that he came into contact with something that sickened his blood. The physicians could do nothing about it. It spread through his body like a slow poison. As I understand, he became quite ill. He could not stop casting up his accounts and took to his bed. He went to sleep and never woke up again.”
Elizabeth’s mouth dropped open. “He had a sickness of the blood?”
The wind whipped through her silver hair, flattening her dress against her, and she stood like a column as the harsh news crashed over her.
“Yes.” Blackwood paused then said, “He had some sort of wound and it became infected.”
Her gloved hand flew to her mouth before she ground out, “My God.”
Tom reached out and pulled her to him. “Elizabeth do not…”
“It is me,” she cried out. “I have done it.”
“No Elizabeth,” Blackwood said firmly. “You have not. You are not a sickness Elizabeth. You defended yourself. You protected yourself. You chose your freedom… and then he? Well, his body went to war against him. It’s not the wound, Elizabeth that killed him. It was the sickness that came after. And if you had not wounded him, where would you be now?”
She lowered her hand… and the horror that had washed over her face began to dim as she held onto Tom.
She looked from man to man and Clyde stepped forward. His wife too.
And it was the duchess who broke their silence and in a strong voice insisted, “You could not sacrifice yourself Elizabeth, for the life of such a man. For he would never have done the same for you.”
Elizabeth blinked then nodded as the power of the duchess’ knowing words slipped through her. She drew in a long breath. “Thank you all. The truth is… the truth is, I cannot suffer for him,” she admitted. “I have suffered my whole life. I have experienced a living death with him and it is only now with all of you that I have begun to feel as if I am truly born. And I will not go back because he has died. I will not go back because he tried to imprison me.”
Tom held her tightly in his arms. “Nor should you my love, nor should you.”
And as they stood in silence for a moment, it was the sound of the children laughing and playing far off through the heather that filled the air.
In that moment, Tom knew deep in his bones that the past was going to be shed like winter going into spring, and that somehow hope would bloom again.
Chapter 20
The Duke of Clyde, giant of a man, sat on the floor of the nursery playing with his three children.
Elizabeth had never seen anything like it in her life.
Over the last weeks, she’d had more firsts than she could ever recall.
Amazed, Elizabeth watched as all three of them treated the duke as if he was a hobby horse. He laughed with them, tossing them up into the air. Her own heart bolted into her throat, quite afraid for a moment.
The Duchess of Clyde laughed, completely at ease. She reached out, and gently placed a hand on her arm, “Do not worry. He will not allow anything to happen to them.”
Elizabeth smiled tentatively, “Truly, I’ve never seen anyone play with children like that.”
“Certainly not among our class,” the duchess agreed.
She nodded. “My father…” her throat tightened and she only managed, “Never.”
“No,” the duchess said softly, “Of course not, nor my brother. They thought themselves so superior, didn’t they? So above everything, but not my husband. My husband understands how short this life can be. He understands the joy of it and how important it is.”
Elizabeth watched as the three children giggled, pulled on their father’s hair, climbed onto his shoulders, and tickled him. The duke suitably burst into fits of deep laughter, fell on the floor, and then rolled about with them.