Page 85 of My Fair Lord

He took more care than he felt like doing as he dressed, and once ready, he unlocked his strongbox and affixed his pocket watch by the chain. On the infrequent occasions he wore it, he usually glanced at the garnets on the back but today he opened the cover and read the engraving. It had been a gift from his father on his eighteenth birthday and the message from father to son made his eyes water.

There was one more item, carefully secreted in a velvet bag: the signet ring he’d kept for so long, a bend sinister with a horse rampant and his initials engraved in the centre. Ned hadn’t worn it since the day he had walked away from his family. He rolled it between finger and thumb.

It was not too late to run. He could still leave New York and disappear; start a new life with a new identity as he had once thought of doing. There were cousins who could take the title if he never returned to claim it. Even before he slipped the signet ring onto his little finger, he knew he wouldn’t do that.

The wager had presumably fallen through, given the dramatic way his identity had been revealed, so he had no further obligation in that regard. The only unresolved business concerned Florence herself and discovering whether she would ever forgive him for what he had kept from her.

He took a streetcar to Bryant Park and found Florence waiting in the tea room with a pot of tea and two cups. She wore a large blue hat with a veil that obscured the upper half of her face, no doubt intentionally. He would have given anything to properly see her. When Ned approached her, she laced her fingers together on top of the table.

“Thank you for coming,” Ned said, slipping into the seat opposite her. “It means more than you know that you’ve given me a chance to explain.”

“Thank my curiosity and the fact that I want to sleep easily without being plagued by questions.” She cleared her throat. “Were you ever going to tell me the truth?”

“At first, I couldn’t imagine a situation where I’d need to. I thought our association would be brief and I’d be able to hide from fate for long enough. Lately, though, I knew I would have to.” Ned steepled his fingers. “I wanted to. Do you remember me saying we needed to talk?”

She gave a faint nod. “At the ball, when you asked about the attorney’s card.”

“This is what I was intending to tell you. I had no idea Lord Stretford would be attending the event, otherwise I would never have accepted the invitation. I certainly had no intention of being unmasked in such a way.”

Florence reached up and lifted her veil. To Ned’s relief, her eyes had their customary brightness.

“That was my fault. I knew he’d be there, but I didn’t want to tell you. That’s why you got yourself beaten to a mess on the day of the fair, isn’t it? It makes sense now. It was so you didn’t have to see Lord Stretford?”

Ned rubbed his hand across his jaw, remembering the pain. “I couldn’t think of another alternative. The moment he saw me, he would have recognised me and revealed who I am. As he did last night.”

Florence threw out her hands. “But what does that matter? We could have stopped the wager at that point. I would have stopped it if I’d known. I’m sure Lord Griggs will declare the wager void now everyone knows I didn’t succeed.”

Ned gave a sad smile. “I wanted you to win. Miss Wakechild, it may be some comfort to you to learn that my general antipathy towards the aristocracy has not changed.”

“I’m not sure anything you can say to me will comfort me now,” Florence snapped. She dropped her head. “You made me feel so stupid. I believed you were exactly who you said you were. When I think of all the things we talked about … I thought you meant them.”

“I did mean everything.” He reached a hand towards her but when she glared, he withdrew it. “I did not intentionally hurt you. I would never do anything to hurt or upset you if it were within my power to avoid it. If you believe nothing else, believe that.”

She looked at him and he held her gaze, willing her to believe him.

“You told me you were beaten by the earl apparent when you were a child,” she said. “And that you left home when your father died. Were those lies?”

“It’s all true. The disappointment, the arguments, the beatings. Everything.” Ned rubbed his eyes. “I just neglected to mention the familial connection.”

“Why?”

Ned sighed. “There are so many ways I could answer that. Because until very recently, it hasn’t been relevant. I have had nothing to do with my family for years. If my brother had not died, I expect I would have lived and died as Ned Blake without ever setting foot in Yorkshire again. Part of me is still hoping that Stuffy had it wrong. That when I visit the lawyer, he’ll tell me that the baby is a boy and I can carry on living as I have been.”

“Do you want to? You once told me that you wanted more than two rooms of your own,” Florence said. Her lips quirked, showing the first signs of good temper. “I assume you will now.”

Ned grinned back cautiously. “There’s a gulf between two rooms in a boarding house and fourteen bedrooms.”

“Fourteen! My sister has only eight,” Florence said, looking at him keenly. “Where do you come from?”

“Yorkshire. You’d like it, I think. It’s an oddly shaped bit of property. There are moors in one direction with long beaches and tall cliffs and dales in the other direction with waterfalls.” He sat back, momentarily homesick for the wildness. “If I decide to return, that’s one of the things that will make it bearable.”

“You aren’t sure you will? But it’s your duty.” Florence’s brow knotted.

Ned looked down at his cup. “I know. The thought fills me with dread. I was never meant to be the earl, so I was never trained as Jasper was. I don’t really know what to do.”

Florence smiled. “You’ll learn. Besides, you’re too brave to run away.”

Ned grew warm inside. With Florence looking at him with such confidence, he almost believed he could do anything.