Page 134 of The Duke's Wicked Widow
A home.
That’s what she wanted, was it not?
“I love ye, Ellie, but…”
“But what?”
“But ye’re the daughter of an earl, a widow of a viscount. I’m just…”
She shifted on his lap, moving her arse to his thighs so she could face him more directly. “And you are the son of a duke.”
“Theillegitimateson.”
“Who has just inherited one of his father’s estates, a substantial property with all the income entailed.”
She was right. Fawkes had never expected such a gift from the man who’d never acknowledged him, and even three days after Thorne had delivered the notice, he still had trouble believing it was true.
Hangcok Hill was his. His home.
And it could be hers.
But could Ellie live there with him? With hismother? Always wondering about the past, and about what Estella MacMillan had done to save his life?
“My mother…” He began, then shook his head, uncertain how to say what needed to be said. “I’ve never asked her…”
“And you need never ask her,” Ellie said firmly, cupping his jaw. “She is a good person; I do not know her as well as you do, but I know shemustbe, if you love her as you do.”
He took a deep breath, confessing, “I remember my sire’s wife. She was spiteful and haughty, and would visit my mother for no reason other than mocking her. She would hit me—hurt me—when Mother wasnae looking. I remember the fear.”
“Oh, Fawkes,” she whispered, sorrow in her gaze.
“I remember when she told me she was going to kill me. Mother was fetching the tea—we couldnae afford servants then—and the Duchess grabbed my arm, pinched the skin with her fingernails, and told me I would never have what rightfully belonged to her darling boy. She hissed that she’d kill me first.”
Ellie’s eyes were bright with tears. “Did your mother hear?”
He shrugged helplessly. “I dinnae remember. Perhaps I told her, or perhaps the Duchess said something directly to her. I dinnaekenif Mother poisoned the woman, but if she did, it was because she truly believed the threats. Blackrose was right; if the law ever gained evidence—real or faked—that she’d committed that poisoning…”
Fawkes was unable to halt the shudder which went through him, and Ellie’s hold on him tightened, bringing his head down toward hers until their foreheads almost touched.
“We will destroy him, Fawkes. Together. With our friends. We will destroy him, and make the world safe for your mother and us.”
“Us?” he whispered, the word strangled by hope.
She untangled herself long enough to bring her left hand into his view. He was surprised to realize she wasn’t wearing the ugly wedding ring Rufus had given her. When had she taken it off?
Slowly, he took the hand, frowning at the empty finger before turning his gaze to her face…only to find her beaming at him.
His heart was slamming against his ribcage, wondering if this meant what he hoped it meant.
Then Ellie took a deep breath.
“Marry me, Fawkes MacMillan. I know I am a widow, and still in mourning…” Her eyes flicked downward for a moment, as if acknowledging her lack of mourning attire. “But marry me anyway. I care nothing for Society’s opinion any longer, but Idocare for you.”
His breath slowly seeped from between his lips, as his heartbeat slowed. Fawkes felt his chest expanding instead, becoming lighter. “Ye’re no’ supposed to ask me to marry ye.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m the man. I’m supposed to askye.”
