O Night Divine A Holiday Collection of Spirited Christmas Tales - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,43

only the two of us can see and hear has brought us together,” Oliver stated. “It was meant to be.”

“That is the sort of nonsense that comprises stories for children,” Elizabeth dismissed. “It isn’t real life.”

“Then who is Burney and why did he orchestrate our meeting?” Oliver demanded. “I need a wife, Elizabeth. Better to have the woman I want, the woman I admire, than a woman I must settle for.”

“You do need a wife! One young enough to give you an heir!”

He shrugged. “I do not share the same devotion to carrying on the aristocracy as some others do. I was born in America and lived there all my life, after all. I’m more Yank than Brit. If the lot of it goes back to the crown, so be it. What use have I for land and wealth when I’m dead? I came here because this inheritance found me at a time when my life was… empty. And for the months I’ve been here, I’ve realized that I’ve traded one empty life for another. It doesn’t feel empty now. Does it?”

No. No, it didn’t. She could deny the strange events that had brought them together. She could cast doubt upon her own sanity. But she couldn’t call into question that her heart raced and her pulse pounded in his presence. That when he was near, for the first time in a very long time, she felt like a girl again, giddy and hopeful.

“People will talk,” she warned.

“Let them,” he replied simply.

“You may regret it,” she objected.

“I may not… you may not either.”

And that effectively circumvented her next argument. “It’s very unorthodox. We have only just met.”

“We are not young and impetuous. We are, both of us, old enough to understand the costs and the benefits. So, why not?”

And she didn’t have an argument or an excuse for that. Why not, indeed? “There will still be a scandal.”

“Most assuredly. We’ll be married tomorrow. On Christmas Eve. Just before the service, so that it can be announced in church. Then all of London can talk about it as they gather,” he said.

“Are you certain you’re not related to the dowager duchess?” Elizabeth asked. That sounded exactly like something she would have said.

“You can examine the family tree at your leisure once your name is on it, as well.”

“I’ve always been very fond of genealogy.” And with that, Elizabeth was engaged.

He was serious.

Elizabeth’s breath caught. “You’ve no idea what you’re risking. You should marry someone who will elevate your standing. That’s what people in society do!”

Oliver cocked one eyebrow at her. “Is that what Viscount Seaburn did when he married your daughter?”

“Well, no, but Lillian, despite her social standing, was—” Actually, she couldn’t make that argument. As companion to the dowager duchess and the bastard daughter of a lord, Lillian had been scandalous. She simply hadn’t been ruined. “You should marry someone who hasn’t been ruined in so public a fashion.”

“Ah. A virgin,” he surmised. “Is that what you mean? Or at least a woman who has the luxury of pretending to be a virgin to the world at large?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth agreed. “Exactly.”

“I imagine, given what I’ve heard of William Satterly and what I know of you, that for all intents and purposes, Elizabeth Burkhart, are practically virginal. The man’s brutality is whispered of frequently enough that even someone as rarely in society as me has heard of it,” Oliver informed her. “Was there anyone besides him? Anyone who showed you that it could be something beautiful?”

She turned away then. Not because she was embarrassed, though she certainly was. But because she couldn’t stand for him to see tears in her eyes. “No. I was never with anyone else.”

“Then it’s time, don’t you think? You’ve paid the price for being a woman who indulged in desire and yet you’ve never had an opportunity to experience it.”

“You are very confident in both your degree of attractiveness and your prowess,” Elizabeth remarked. He likely had reason for that confidence. Heaven knew she was beyond attracted to him and had been from the first moment their eyes had met.

Epilogue

The wedding breakfast had been thrown together in a hurry. It was fitting as the wedding had been a havey-cavey affair, as well. With a license, a troupe of befuddled and confounded witnesses who couldn’t fathom two people marrying just hours after meeting one another and a frazzled cleric who thought it was all some terrible jest until a hefty donation was made to the church. However,