Page 103 of The Duke's Wicked Widow
Ellie lowered her hand, studying the wedding band. Rufus had given her the Cumnock engagement ring, which had been far too big for her finger, so she’d never worn it after their engagement ball. Jasper’s wife likely had it now.
But this too-ornate gold ring… It had beenherchoice. One she hadn’t regretted, during the months of hiding from Society and caring for her ailing husband.
Husband?
Rufus had barely been a husband to her, had he? Married less than a year, and him so ill for most of that time. Yes, Merida’s memories of her father were pleasant, but Ellie’s time with him had been more about obligation and stress than happiness.
And now…
In only a few days, Fawkes had shown hertruehappiness. Oh, Rufus hadn’t been a bad man, but Fawkes…Fawkescared. He had taken the time to get to know Ellie—andMerida. He knew them as people, understood what they liked and disliked. And he’d done so without expectations or obligations.
Merely because he wanted to.
Fawkes MacMillan was a good man.
You sound as if you are trying to convince yourself.
Well, yes, she supposed she was. Those things he’d said about himself, all those weeks ago in the alleyway…about being this Duke of Death, a poisoner, a murderer…atraitor. She hadn’t forgotten those things, but it was impossible to reconcile that with what she knew of him.
You love him.
It was entirely possible.
Sighing, Ellie twisted the band around her finger. She was a terrible widow—to have put aside her mourning clothes so soon, to have jumped into bed with Fawkes. To be falling for him.
Wicked.
Yes, that was the word. She’d forgotten her father’s and husband’s deaths in the bliss of Fawkes’s arms.
“Ellie?” Merida called from the open door. “I found Tramp’s lead. Can we gonow? I’m hungry!”
Swallowing another sigh, Ellie pulled the ring from her finger and placed it atop the dressing table. She might be a horrible person, but she wanted this. She wanted this happiness, this celebration, for however long she could have it.
“Yes, sweetheart. Let us go celebrate Christmas.”
Dinner was no less delicious—or raucous—as previous meals at Hangcok Hill. Estella had given the Clutterbucks leave to celebrate together so they served themselves, and Fawkes didn’t tease her once about being spoiled.
Honestly, Ellie was learning to love the simplicity of this estate; there was something so honest in the peacefulness here, and she definitely didn’t mind the more modest existence. It had been a joy to watch Merida stretch her wings in the short while they’d been here, and truthfully, she was dreading having to leave for Endymion and the stuffiness that doubtlessly came from living under a duke’s roof.
But they would outstay their welcome eventually, and perhaps Merida would come to love Georgia’s home the same way she loved Hangcok Hill.
It is not the same as having your own home.
No. No it wasn’t.
“Ellie, can I have my puddingnow?”
Ellie raised a brow. “What did I say?”
“That I have to eat all my greens, butlook! They’re gone!”
Fawkes cleared his throat. “Sprite, even a blind donkey could see ye’ve been slipping them under the table. Now either yer lap is full of boiled spinach—and for Mrs. Clutterbuck’s sake I hope that’s no’ the case—or ye’re feeding them to Tramp.”
“Which Ialsohope isnae the case,” Estella spoke without looking up from her roast, “because everyone kens spinach gives canines gas, and I’m making him sleep in yer room tonight.”
From beneath the table came a muffled whine.
Merida smiled innocently. “That was my foot.”
