Puck and Prejudice

Chapter Nineteen

The carriage clattered against the cobblestones as they entered London’s city limits. When Tuck had flown over, he’d landed

in Heathrow but hadn’t lingered. His priority had been to see Nora, so he’d ignored all the advertisements for the palaces,

West End shows, torture museums, and double-decker bus tours and jumped on a quick commuter to Bath. Now, almost a week after

leaving Scotland, the sheer magnitude of the city, even in this time, sank in as they traversed the busy streets. It far eclipsed

the towns and quaint villages they had passed on their long journey back from Gretna Green.

Night crept in, and lamps flickered, casting a glow down twisted lanes. The scene brought back memories of the labyrinth from

Nora’s old picture book of Greek myths—the one with the Minotaur art that gave him bad dreams, even when he was the older

brother pretending not to care. The air was thick with the smell of decaying wood and mud.

“That’s the Thames,” Lizzy mentioned casually, as he coughed into his fist. “The river’s not particularly close, but when

the wind blows from the south during the summer, you can enjoy that distinctive blend of brine and fish all over town.”

“Good to be home?” he inquired.

“London’s complicated.” She glanced out the carriage window, fidgeting with the pearl button fastening her glove. “The city’s never felt like a place where I belong. And the atmosphere in my stepfather’s townhouse—well, let’s just say it is nothing like the Woodlands.”

When she turned back to Tuck, her tight smile didn’t come close to reaching her eyes. “But,” she reiterated for the third

time in the past hour, “all shall be well. I’m not the least bit troubled.”

Tuck studied her like he was gauging the morale of a teammate. Lizzy’s flushed cheeks and distant expression hinted at a different

truth, as if she were gearing up for a high-stakes game.

Henry had ridden ahead from Gretna Green, the little weasel practically vibrating with excitement to be the bearer of bad

news. Although Henry’s three brain cells failed to perceive it as such, his early departure served a purpose. By leaving a

few days before them, he gave Lizzy time to gather her strength for the impending confrontation. Henry had cheerfully insinuated

it didn’t matter, as she’d just be arriving for her funeral. But having him break the news was a hell of a lot better for

her than showing up unannounced with a new husband and saying, “Surprise, surprise.” This way, her parents would have a head

start on processing the event.

“Tell me about the part of the city that you live in,” he said, to keep her talking.

“Mayfair.” Her voice was high, strained. “We’ve now passed Wembley and Notting Hill, and are into Marylebone. This is where

I was raised.”

“You’ve mentioned your family is well-off?”

“Though we’re more fortunate than many, it’s not sufficient enough for their ambition. While we now reside in Mayfair, it’s not within the most prestigious enclave, like Grosvenor Square. That’s why you can see my purpose in this world is to secure an attachment to a gentleman from such a quarter to aid our climb. Wit, humor, kindness—basic decency. All those traits in a partner are negotiable if the address is right. Mayfair, you see, is not merely a neighborhood; it’s a ladder we’re all required to climb. The option of avoiding marriage and preserving my independence has never been truly viable.”

“I’m sorry,” Tuck said sincerely. “We should all have the right to choose our own paths in life. When you were talking just

then, it made me think how marriage is no longer the measure of a woman’s worth in my time. Except...”

“Yes?” Lizzy leaned in, curious. “What is it?”

“I went to a wedding before coming out here to England. It was for a teammate—Jason Burns. The bride wore a traditional white

dress, which I guess symbolizes purity. Everyone kept going on about how thin she looked. Her father ‘gave her away,’ and

she took her fiancé’s last name. To conclude the ceremony, the minister, also a man, granted the groom permission to kiss

the bride. Even with all of this, they called it ‘her day.’” Rubbing his forehead, Tuck confessed, “It’s pretty strange when

you really think about it.”

Lizzy nodded thoughtfully. “It’s hard to notice pitfalls when you hold the advantage. But to think that even hundreds of years

in the future, so much remains the same? How utterly wearying.”

The carriage slowed. Lizzy shook her head as if refocusing her thoughts. “What are your parents like?”

Tuck frowned, memories of a less-than-perfect family surfacing. “My dad always worked; he’s an air-traffic controller and, uh, well, explaining the finer points of that job would be complicated. Suffice it to say that he is rigid, detail-oriented, and life-or-death decisions are part of his job. Everything has to be by the book, and if anyone in my family wanted to go in a different direction... he didn’t always take to it easily or kindly.”

The carriage stopped. He didn’t have time to explain about Nora or why his little sister had wanted to get so far away that

she left the whole damn country. Because one lesson he’d taken to heart from Dad was to triage and focus on the biggest problem

first.

Right now? That was Lizzy’s family.

He climbed out of the carriage and peered up at the four-story townhouse with its rows of symmetrical windows and pale stucco

exterior. The double doors were carved with wooden rosettes and framed by simple Greek columns. The vibe was very much “Don’t

touch anything with your filthy fingers, peasant.”

A curtain twitched on the second floor.

“I’m sorry in advance,” Lizzy said, reaching out to take his hand.

“What for? If your family is weird, that’s not on you.”

“But I’m sorry nevertheless.” She squeezed his fingers and then, as she tried to withdraw, he held on.

“We go in together,” Tuck asserted. “As a united front, no matter what happens. In hockey, there’s a saying—speed is hard

to defend. If we work together, they won’t know what hit them.”

A footman opened the door and bowed to Lizzy. “Welcome home, miss,” he said, before correcting himself. “My apologies, Mrs. Taylor. Right this way.”

Lizzy nodded her greeting and they strode inside. Their footsteps echoed on the polished marble of the grand entrance hall as they passed a sweeping staircase. They walked by a room with overstuffed armchairs and sofas gathered under ornate chandeliers, which cast a warm glow on gilded mirrors and silk-draped windows. They passed a formal dining room, and then a library. All the decorative touches added elegance, but the atmosphere remained impersonal, like a model home, or even a museum—no personal items anywhere.

They paused before closed doors. “They await you in the drawing room,” the footman said, his tone carrying a hint of pity.

“Thank you, John,” Lizzy replied solemnly.

“And congratulations, miss. I mean, missus.” With a conspiratorial wink, he retreated down the wide hall.

“Ready to face the music?” Tuck asked.

Lizzy made a face. “Maybe we could slip down the servants’ stairs and ride back north? I hear summers in the highlands are

so warm you can sometimes remove your coat for a whole hour.”

He brushed his thumb over her ring. “I’ve got your back. I’m here every step.”

“Elizabeth,” a deep, unfamiliar male voice boomed. “Enter, if you please.”

Tuck had imagined a firing squad, the parents and brother standing in the middle of the room ready to take aim. Instead, they

casually lounged on various fancy furniture.

“That’s him, Father.” Henry waved in Tuck’s general direction. “That’s the American.”

“Sir.” Tuck stepped forward, hand out. “Tucker Taylor, pleased to meet you.”

Lizzy’s stepfather gazed at his extended hand but refrained from accepting it. Instead, he meticulously folded the Evening Ledger newspaper, resting it against his potbelly before crossing his arms.

“Mr.Alby!” Horror flashed in Lizzy’s tone. “You can’t mean to snub—”

“I was a naval officer during the American War. I saw action in the Battle of Long Island. The siege at Kip’s Bay. Nasty business. Nearly lost my leg. Good men lost their lives. I was twenty years old. I’d never been out of England, let alone across the Atlantic. And for what? Loyalty betrayed by colonists who decided that the king and the rule of law no longer applied to them. We beat back your general on the shores of New York, that Washington who became your president.” His voice was thick with contempt.

Cool.

The problem was that Tuck only had the barest grasp of the Revolutionary War. Of course, he knew about George Washington.

But specific battles? Nope. Not a one. Paul Revere rode around saying “The redcoats are coming!” in Massachusetts. That’s

all he had.

Shit. Why hadn’t he taken Nora up on her offer to go see Hamilton when she’d invited him to fly to New York to see it on Broadway? That would have been the CliffsNotes version at least.

The man had deep-set heavy-lidded eyes, a red nose, and spidery red veins in his round cheeks. He might not be one of the

most powerful men beyond these walls, but in this house, he was the king. How to play it? Tuck wasn’t going to make peace

or earn respect by rolling over and submitting. But if he picked a fight, he’d just be giving this dude a reason to let his

temper unleash.

Better to be unpredictable.

“I don’t know much about the war, sir. It was over before I was born.”

“Your history doesn’t matter to you?” Mr.Alby’s voice was calm, but Tuck noticed his jaw tighten a little.

“I prefer to be more future-looking.”

So far, so good. And also, true.

But an awkward stillness filled the air, carrying a weight that felt like anger.

“A future that you decided to rob our Elizabeth of securing. A future that you claimed even though you have no right. A future

that will be darkened forever because my stepdaughter, a Wooddash, no less, has been prevented from securing a marriage with

a member of one of the families we had envisioned.”

“Sir, I haven’t gone to war, and I’m not looking to start one here in your home. I understand that our elopement to Scotland

must have not been what you imagined for your stepdaughter’s future. But Lizzy made a choice. It was different from what you

would have chosen for her. But it’s done. And I’m here. And I’m not going to ruin her, or be a nuisance to you and your wife.

I’m not even going to ask you to give me a chance. But I will work harder than any other man and I’m not going to quit until

she has everything she wants.”

“Rufus, my darling dove—” Lizzy’s mother deployed one of those sugar-dipped voices that she probably believed was calming

but in reality was about as soothing as a needle in a balloon factory. “Do exercise prudence. Provoking your temper will only

be at a detriment to the well-being of your tender heart.”

Tuck resisted the urge to scoff. That dude was less dove and more deranged dictator. But then he caught the subtle glance

that mother and daughter exchanged. Maybe this was also part of the game.

“Mr.Alby. Mother. Hen... ry.” Lizzy stepped in. “You might have fallen asleep at night with dreams of little old me marrying

into a great family in Grosvenor Square. Except no one ever wanted me there, and I didn’t want them. But I want this man.

I need him and he needs me. We are married and it’s legal and binding and the best choice is the simplest—accept it.”

“But what’s next?” Lizzy’s mother stood, wringing her hands. “Shall you abscond to the colonies? Oh, Lizzy, what will Lavina Throckmorton have to say about such a libertine lark? The very thought makes my head ache.” Lizzy’s mother whirled to address Tucker directly. “And will my precious progeny reside above a Baltimorian mercantile shop?”

Tuck cleared his throat. So far telling the truth had seen him in good stead. “What matters is that I am here to support your

daughter, not be supported by her. So instead of debating what doesn’t matter, why don’t we all agree on what does. Your daughter is extraordinary. And

I’m very grateful that I found her when I did.” His lips pressed together firmly, the hard thump of his heart thrumming in

his ears. The gravity of his words lingered in the air, and there was no denying it—he knew he’d meant every word.

The trouble was, he had no idea what to do about it.