Loving Lizzie Finn

13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

H er aunt and uncle’s raised voices could be heard all the way to Lizzie’s room. She followed the sound, sure she’d heard her name mentioned. She descended the steps, made her way to her uncle’s study, and listened just outside of view.

“Stop. No more. Not one of the suitors you mentioned is acceptable,” her uncle bit out from his seat behind the desk.

Ah, choosing her husband-to-be. Perhaps Uncle Eldon would put an end to her impending marriage altogether. Not likely, but she could hope.

“Then you come up with a better list,” Aunt Margaret snapped back. “What noble, worthy man is willing to marry your dear Lizzie? Her mother was a prostitute, and she lived in a brothel for most of her life.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t shared that bit of gossip to all and sundry, we wouldn’t be having this problem.”

Indeed. Bemoaning her circumstances all these years had come back to haunt her aunt. Good.

Aunt Margaret huffed out an ugly laugh. “You would have her marry without telling her husband of her past? He would find out eventually.”

Uncle Eldon grunted.

“Stop making snap judgments,” her aunt advised. “Once you get to know these suitors, you may change your mind about them.”

Uncle Edon’s only response was yet another grunt.

“As much as you’re fussing about this, one would think Lizzie is your daughter instead of your niece.”

Lizzie’s attention sharpened, and her heart leaped to her throat.

“Not this again,” her uncle growled. “When will you let that matter rest?”

“If she’s not your daughter, why did you bring her home when Caroline died? Why have you doted on her?”

Lizzie listened intently and held her breath.

“She’s family, no matter what issues you had with her mother in the past,” Uncle Eldon responded.

“The issues I had with her were all due to you. If you hadn’t—”

“Enough!” Uncle Eldon yelled loud enough to make Lizzie flinch. “There’s no changing the past. Let it rest.”

Lizzie peeked inside the room. Her aunt’s features were strained with emotion. With frustration? With sadness? She couldn’t tell.

Her aunt adjusted her clothing. “Very well. What do you want to do about the list of suitors?”

Uncle Eldon looked at his wife like she’d gone daft. “Find other, better, choices.”

“I’ve done all I can. If you can do better, by all means, do so.”

Or even better … “Let me choose my husband.” Lizzie strode into the study and was greeted by two frowns. They probably wouldn’t listen to her pleas, but she might as well try.

“I won’t allow you to marry Byron Greeley,” Uncle Eldon declared straightaway.

“Why not?” If she had to marry someone, she’d rather it be him. “He didn’t know about the agreement you had with his father regarding the prices for Howell & Harmon. His was an honest mistake. I’m sure he’d be willing to change them back, and then perhaps you can help him with his loan.”

“Out of the question!”

“He’s a good man,” she persisted. “Honest and principled.” If only her uncle would let go of his prejudice.

Her uncle’s brows drew low. “Is he? Then tell me he didn’t approach you because of his loan agreement.”

She longed to challenge his assumptions, but she couldn’t. After she’d met Byron for the first time in her uncle’s study, he had indeed approached her to seek her help.

“I caught you snooping through the house. Tell me he didn’t ask you to find evidence against me,” her uncle prodded further.

He had, but he’d also supported her and had assisted her in finding clues as to who her father was. Although that search had only made her doubt her uncle’s character even more. She stiffened as that thought constricted her chest. Was Byron using her for his own ends?

Uncle Eldon scowled. “Do you truly believe he wants to marry you? If he loses his business because he can’t pay his loan, will he still welcome you—my niece—into his home?”

Byron hadn’t said that in so many words, but surely—

“Even if he doesn’t lose his business, will his family approve of the match?” her aunt put forth.

She’d asked him that very same question. He’d insisted they would, but she’d seen the doubt on his face.

“Lizzie, you’re deceiving yourself,” her uncle insisted.

Was she? No, Byron was good to her. He loved her. She’d always been the one who’d kept him at a distance. He’d always been the one who’d coaxed her, asking for her help, promising to marry her … Her heart clenched. Did he have ulterior motives?

Dread twisted Lizzie’s insides into a knot as she entered The Tea Room. Byron’s mother had requested they meet, and she didn’t have a good feeling about what Mrs. Greeley might say.

Lizzie recognized the employee who approached her. She’d served her and Stella when they’d visited. The knot in her middle tightened. The Tea House staff had subtly snubbed her and Stella. Would they do so again? Worse, would Mrs. Greeley notice?

Lizzie scanned the tables, looking for a woman sitting alone. Or perhaps with Ruby? Please be here with Ruby.

“I’m meeting someone,” she said when the server reached her.

Lizzie spotted Ada and her sister, Irene—both employees at Greeley & Company—and wished she were meeting them instead. They were friendly and probably wouldn’t ask her questions about her relationship with Byron.

Two women sat by themselves, but only one was middle-aged and staring directly at her with a mixture of curiosity and wariness in her eyes. Byron’s mother sat rigidly in her chair, her impeccably tailored gown a stately dark gray. She emitted an aura of steely determination that didn’t bode well.

Lizzie made her way over to the woman on trembling legs. “Mrs. Greeley?”

“Miss Finn.” She gestured toward the chair across from her. “Please sit.”

Lizzie did as she was bade.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” Mrs. Greeley asked.

Lizzie nodded, and Mrs. Greeley made the request to the ever-attentive waitress.

Byron’s mother adjusted the sleeves of her gown. “I understand you’ve come to know my son quite well.”

Lizzie’s heart thumped hard. “Yes, he offered me a job at Greeley & Company. He’s an exceptional boss and a fine man.” Her nerves twitching, she wrung her hands in her lap. “I’ve also grown quite fond of Ruby. She and her boys are always a delight,” she babbled. Lizzie swallowed in an attempt to moisten her dry mouth and willed the server to bring her cup of tea sooner rather than later.

Mrs. Greeley didn’t bother with the tea that sat before her. Instead, her full attention remained on Lizzie. “How long have you known Bryon?”

“Just over a month.”

Mrs. Greeley’s eyebrow arched. “Such a short time, and already he’s proposing marriage?” She studied Lizzie’s abdomen. “Or is there another reason he has proposed.”

A mixture of shock and indignation tensed her muscles just as the waitress set a cup of tea in front of Lizzie. A slight smirk raised one side of the server’s lips.

Lizzie ignored the eavesdropper. “Certainly not.”

The waitress withdrew from the table.

Mrs. Greeley released a sigh, and relief flashed across her features. “Do you care for my son?”

“I do.” More every day it seemed.

“Your family background isn’t the best.”

“Yes.” She held her breath, waiting for the axe to fall.

“Have you thought about the impact gossip about you will have on Byron?”

She’d been whispered about for years now, and she’d survived. Surely, they could survive together. “Byron doesn’t seem to care about what the gossips say.”

Mrs. Greeley’s eyes narrowed. “Your past will hinder his future.” Her gaze swept the room. “Look at how the women who work here stare at you. How many people are already aware of your past? Once Greeley & Company’s customers and suppliers hear who Byron has married, many will choose to no longer work with him anymore.”

Frustration soured Lizzie’s stomach. Her entire life she’d lived with these unreasonable prejudices. “I assure you I’ve done nothing scandalous in my past. No one can control the circumstances of their birth. Only small-minded blatherskites would hold such a thing against me,” Lizzie insisted, her voice raised.

Mrs. Greeley discreetly glanced at the faces turned their way. “Even if you’re innocent of any wrongdoing, you can’t deny that you’re a subject of gossip, and that people treat you differently because of it. Would you have Byron treated the same way or worse because of his association with you?”

Indeed, gossip could affect their lives. Hadn’t it already hindered her from getting a job and limited her choice of husband? Would she have Byron go through the same humiliation?

“I’ll admit that Byron has never shown an interest in a woman like he has with you. However, that also means he has no experience when it comes to romantic relationships. He’s losing his head over you. He’s prepared to throw his future away for you.” Byron’s mother stared hard into Lizzie’s eyes. “If you care for him, do what’s best for him.”

A hollow ache throbbed in her chest at the thought of losing Byron. Her breath quivered. No. It wasn’t fair. Lizzie stiffened, and a jolt of vexation had her clenching her hands. Byron was the pursuer in their relationship. “He was the one who approached me,” she muttered. Although according to her uncle, he’d done so for reasons other than an interest in her. She held in a pain-filled laugh. How much worse would this conversation be if Mrs. Greeley knew of Uncle’s Eldon’s treachery toward her son?

The ache in her chest intensified. What was so wrong with her? What had she done to deserve this kind of treatment? Would she be forever punished for the actions of her parents? For the sins of her uncle? She blinked away the tears that threatened.

What if she changed her name and her appearance? What if she and Byron moved to a place where no one knew of her past? Her mind spun as she desperately searched for a solution that would appease the woman before her.

Mrs. Greeley’s expression remained resolute. She wouldn’t be swayed by anything Lizzie said. No doubt she’d made up her mind about Lizzie and Byron’s relationship before she’d stepped foot in The Tea Room.

How could she sway his mother? And with so many doubts swirling inside her head, did she want to?

Ignoring the desperate desire to turn around and run home, Lizzie clutched the bundle of her finished work to her chest and forced her sluggish feet to walk faster. She had to stay strong. She would end things with Byron and leave as quickly as she could. That would be the best for both of them.

She entered the warehouse and descended the steps, then followed the glow from a lamp through the maze of crates to the desk. Byron sat hunched over, pen in hand, a book before him, and a frown on his face. Lizzie stepped closer. He was so engrossed in his work he didn’t notice her approach.

She drank in the sight of him—his lean figure and his thick hair she knew to be soft to the touch. She reached out but stopped herself from stroking those tempting strands. It wouldn’t make this trip any easier. She backed away and cleared her throat. “Byron?”

He straightened in his chair. His gaze swung toward her, and a smile warmed his expression. Closing the book on the desk, he stood. Ah, he’d been studying the Greeley & Company ledger. No wonder he’d been frowning.

Her pulse raced, and her insides clenched now that she had his attention. “Thank you for meeting me,” she began, reciting the words she’d practiced in her head on the way to the warehouse.

A flash of confusion crossed his face, likely from her formal tone.

She handed him the bundle. “Here’s the embroidery I’ve finished, and”—she fished the warehouse keys from her reticule—“here are the keys you lent me.”

His look of confusion grew. “Why are you returning them to me? You’re no longer going to use the warehouse to work?” he asked as he set the bundle on the desk.

She swallowed and rolled her shoulders back. “I’ve decided to quit working for Greeley & Company. This is goodbye.” Her hand trembling, she held out the keys.

He made no move to take them. “I don’t understand. Why are you quitting? And goodbye? What do you mean by goodbye?”

“We can’t see each other anymore,” she forced out, her heart squeezing. She took his hand and pressed the keys to his palm. “I need to go.”

She quickly turned to leave, but Byron grabbed her arm. “Wait. What’s happened? Why are you suddenly acting this way?”

In good conscience, she couldn’t tell him about her conversation with his mother. She refused to become a rift between them. After all, his mother wasn’t wrong in her thinking. She was simply protecting her son. “I’ve come to realize that too many obstacles stand in our way.” Tears flooded her eyes, and she rubbed her brow to keep him from seeing them. “My uncle will never allow us to be together. Instead, he insists I marry another.”

“That’s nothing new. We’ve known this all along, and it’s never stopped me from wanting to be with you.”

The conviction in his voice drew her in, coaxing her to trust him. If only she could. “Your family … I have no doubt your family won’t approve of our relationship once my past is known. They won’t want you to be the subject of gossip.”

He lowered her hand from her face and looked into her eyes. “I don’t care about gossip, and my family will accept you in time.”

Had he truly thought things through, or was he letting his emotions get the best of him as his mother had said? “Greeley & Company will suffer once your customers and suppliers hear the rumors about me.”

“I don’t care about any of that.”

“Perhaps you should. Greeley & Company is your livelihood, your family’s legacy.”

He cupped her face in his hands. “How do you feel about me?”

“What does that matter given all that stands between us?”

“It’s all that matters to me. I love you.”

The way he gazed at her … as if he cherished her … She attempted to back away before her resolve wavered, but he gently held firm.

“Last time we were together, you said you wanted to marry me.”

“I said that in a moment of passion.” Her tone held a note of pleading. He was making saying goodbye too difficult. How much more could she take?

“A moment like this?” His lips descended on hers, making her stomach flutter and skip. His familiar masculine scent enveloped her, so comforting and enticing. She reveled in the warmth of his lips and indulged in the irresistible desire to stay with him a bit longer.

Byron pulled her closer and kissed a trail from her cheek to her throat. Her skin tingled with every brush of his lips and sweep of his tongue. She tugged off her gloves and let them drop where they would, along with her reticule. She ached to touch him, to savor these last stolen moments with him. To hell with it. If this was goodbye, perhaps she should prove the gossips right and do something scandalous for once. Lizzie pushed his overcoat off his shoulders to the floor, then unbuttoned the jacket beneath. She slipped her arms around him, surrounding herself in his warmth and strength.

He lifted his head, and she kissed him with a desperation she couldn’t contain. Their mouths nipped, teased, and tasted as her insides danced and swirled.

His hand rose to cup her breast, and she began to unbutton his waistcoat, eager to memorize the feel of him. When she finally parted his vest and ran her hands inside, Byron drew away, his breathing ragged.

He stared at her hand resting on him and his own on her chest then shook his head. “If we go any further, I won’t be able to stop,” he confessed in a hoarse rasp.

Her vision had gone hazy, and her mind couldn’t grasp what he meant. She only knew she yearned to be close to him, to be loved by him. She grabbed the fabric of his shirt and pulled him to her, then she pressed her lips to his. She didn’t want to stop. Anything but that.

Byron groaned. He lifted her from her feet and sat her on the desk. His hand found a path under her skirt and up her leg in a sensual glide that shot tingles to her middle, and lower. She wrapped her arms around his neck and tasted his lips once more. She’d never felt so close to anyone in her life. And still, she craved more.

His fingers delved inside the slit of her drawers and grazed over a place no man had ever touched before. She gasped at the thrilling jolt of sensation that coursed through her from the contact. He deepened their kisses as he stroked her again and again. A delicious tremor danced inside her, each sweep of his fingers stoking the intensity.

She ran her hands over him, caressing his chest, his back, his hips, and the bulge of his trousers. He sucked in a breath as she explored that hardness. His soft growl spurred her on. She longed to give him as much pleasure as he was giving her. She unbuttoned his trousers and reached inside, enclosing her hand around his rigid length.

“Dear God, Lizzie,” he rasped against her lips.

Immersed in the exhilarating quiver of sensation building between her legs, Lizzie grabbed on for dear life, her hand moving in time with Byron’s fingers.

Byron shuddered and lifted her skirt and petticoats to her thighs. “Tell me you want this,” he panted. His eyes blazed with a mixture of desire and love.

“Yes, Byron. Yes.” This feeling of bliss, of closeness … she never wanted this moment to end.

He leaned her backward and slid her hips to the edge of the desk. His lips pressed to hers, his hard length probed between her legs then penetrated, filling her in a heady glide before stopping partway. “Lizzie.”

Without a second thought, she grasped his firm backside and tugged, urging him to finish what he’d started. Just as she wished, he pushed through her barrier to bury himself fully inside. The resulting sting quickly faded, and Lizzie moved her hips impatiently. He gave a soft chuckle before he withdrew and thrust home again. The friction of his member inside her elicited tingles and a hum deep within her. As he pulled out and plunged in again and again, the sensations heightened until she emitted a soft moan and clutched Byron to her. A wave of pleasure washed over her so intense she cried out from the blissful release.

In the next instant, Byron did the same.

He held her close as they caught their breaths, and before long, reality returned.

She wriggled out of Byron’s hold and adjusted her clothing. “I should go.”

His brow wrinkled with confusion once more, and he fumbled with the buttons on his trousers. “I’m sorry. Maybe we shouldn’t have—”

“I don’t regret what we did,” she confessed, her heart breaking anew. She slid off the desk to her feet. “But it changes nothing.”

“Lizzie.”

Tears blurred her vision. “I’m sorry.” She’d been selfish. She shouldn’t have encouraged him, knowing they’d still have to say goodbye.

Byron grasped her hand, but she yanked it away and fled as her tears fell. She raced up the steps and out of the warehouse into the cold sunshine. Lizzie pressed her fist to the sharp ache in her chest and hurried home. She had no choice but to distance herself from him for his sake and for her own. If he and his family suffered because of her, she’d never forgive herself. He would be better off without her.