Page 101 of From Unwanted to Duchess
She rushed up the stairs and knocked. A moment later, Franklin opened the door.
“Your Grace!” he exclaimed.
“Franklin,” she greeted. “Is…”
How was she supposed to call him? James? His Grace? My husband?
Fortunately, Franklin made the decision for her.
He smiled. “He is in the drawing room, preparing a delivery.”
“A delivery?” she said, but he said nothing further and simply led her to the drawing room.
There, she found James with a cloth in one hand, polishing a large pianoforte.
“I did not know you had taken up music,” she remarked.
He turned to her and rose to his full height.
“Frances,” he said. “I… I was not expecting you.”
She looked at the instrument. It was beautiful, rosewood with ivory keys, and there was a gleam to it that told her he had been polishing it for quite some time.
“It is for you,” he admitted. “I meant to send it.”
“Along with the wildflowers and hot cross buns?” she asked, because she didn’t really know how to respond. This was such a grand gift.
“Yes,” he replied. “I heard that you have started taking lessons, and I thought that it would be nicer for you to have a beautiful instrument such as this rather than…” he trailed off. “Rather than having to use whatever is available.”
She stared at him for a long moment, then said quietly, “You know that you cannot buy me with gifts.”
“I am not trying to buy you,” he murmured, setting down the cloth. “I am not. I just… I wanted to do something for you. Something that showed you that I was paying attention. That I care about what matters to you.”
“Hot cross buns and wildflowers and newspapers with your opinions scrawled in the margins,” she said.
“I know it seems foolish?—”
“It doesn’t seem foolish,” she interrupted. “It seems… thoughtful. It seems like you were listening all along, even when I thought you weren’t.”
He took a step toward her. “I was always listening, Frances. Always. Even when I was too much of a coward to act on what I heard. Even when I was pushing you away.”
“Then why?” she asked, her voice breaking. “Why did you send me away if you cared so much?”
“Because I was terrified,” he sighed. “Terrified of losing you. Terrified of becoming my father. Terrified of failing you the way I failed Marcus.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But all I did was ensure the very thing I feared most. I lost you anyway. Because of my own actions.”
“You haven’t lost me,” she said quietly. “I am standing right here.”
“Are you?” he asked, his eyes searching hers. “Or are you just here to tell me to stop sending you things?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I came here because I read your notes in the newspapers and I… I missed you. I missed arguing with you, debating with you, talking with you. But James, I cannot go through that again. I cannot be with you one day and cast aside the next. My heart cannot bear it.”
“Then I will not do it again,” he promised, taking another step closer. “I swear to you, Frances. I will not push you away again.”
“How can you promise that? How can you be sure?”
“Because the pain of being without you is far greater than any fear I have of losing you,” he said. “These last weeks have been hell. Sitting in this empty house, knowing you were just across town and I couldn’t see you, couldn’t talk to you, couldn’t hold you. I would rather face every fear I have with you by my side than spend another day in that lonely existence.”
“I was surprised by your words. You stood up for me, even though I had rejected you.”
