Page 22 of The Countess's Awakening (The Lovers’ Arch #3)

CHAPTER 22

K ai had not come. She had given him every opportunity. Had notified him of every move she made. He knew she was leaving for England today. And still he had not come.

Her trunks were packed. The porter waited for her command to load them onto the hired carriage that would take her to the docks. She checked the time once more. Eleven o’clock. The ship was leaving at noon. She dared not wait any longer, or she risked missing it.

With a decisive nod, she indicated to the porter she was ready to go. The young man hoisted the trunk and walked out of the hotel doors to load it onto the waiting carriage. Margaret and she got in, and they were off.

The carriage rattled over the cobbled streets, its wheels splashing through the slushy remnants of last night’s snowfall. Outside, the city blurred past in a swirl of gray and white—chimneys billowing smoke into the crisp December air, pedestrians bundled tightly against the cold. But Esther barely saw any of it. Her gloved fingers clenched in her lap, the leather tightening over her knuckles, as the weight in her chest grew heavier with each turn of the carriage wheel.

The docks loomed closer, and with them, the inevitable—the ship that would take her back to England. She was happy to go back. She missed her daughter with a deep, unrelenting ache. But she also recognized she was leaving a part of her heart behind. Was it possible to exist with parts of her heart on different continents?

She must, because Wang was not coming.

She had told herself he would. That he would see reason, see that she—they—were worth the fight. But the days had slipped through her fingers like sand, each one passing without a word from him. Now, time had run out.

A sharp gust of wind seeped through the carriage window, making her shiver beneath her heavy cloak. Why was New York so much colder than London? Or perhaps it was the hollowness in her chest, the ache of knowing she was leaving behind something—someone—who had become a part of her. He had insisted their relationship was impossible, that it would ruin her, harm her daughter. That the world would never allow them to be together.

Fear for her daughter had moved her to accept his decision. Yet, would it really be detrimental for Lizzie if she married Wang? She wasn’t so sure anymore. But what choice had she, when the man she loved had made it clear he would not fight for her?

The carriage jerked to a stop, the driver’s call breaking through her thoughts. The scent of salt and coal smoke filled the air. She lifted her head and looked out.

The docks stretched before her, busy with the usual chaotic energy of departure day. Men shouted orders over the screech of gulls. Crates and trunks were being hoisted onto the waiting ships. Families clung to each other in tearful farewells, and travelers hurried up gangplanks, eager for the journey ahead.

With a deep breath, she steeled herself and reached for the door. She had waited. Hoped.

But Wang was not coming.

And now she must leave.

T he hack jolted forward, hooves pounding against the frozen December streets. Not fast enough. Every second felt like water slipping through his fingers. Wang clenched his fists, his breath shallow, his pulse hammering in his ears.

“Faster,” he urged the driver.

“We’re goin’ as fast as we can, sir!” the man called back, flicking the reins.

The streets of New York were thick with midday traffic—wagons laden with goods, street vendors hollering their wares, pedestrians clogging the crossings. At every turn, another delay. A carriage overturned ahead on Broadway. A stubborn mule refusing to budge. A tangle of carts vying for space along the narrow stretch leading to the docks. The frustration coiled tight in his chest.

Every delay was a nail in the coffin of his hope to reach her in time.

At a particularly dense intersection, the coachman yanked the reins, cursing as the carriage jolted to a halt behind a slow-moving omnibus. Wang shoved open the door before the driver could protest.

“Here,” he thrust coins into the man’s gloved hand. “Keep the change.”

Then he ran.

The cold air burned his lungs, but he didn’t stop. His legs moved with frantic desperation. He weaved through the crowd, dodging barrels and crates, nearly colliding with a dockworker carrying a sack of flour. The man yelled at him in outrage. He paid no mind. He kept running.

Then he saw it.

The RMS Scotia had lifted anchor. The massive steamship, dark against the grey sky, was pulling away from the dock, its great paddle wheels churning the water.

Too late.

Still, he ran. His heartbeat a wild, uneven drumbeat in his chest. His breath came in harsh gasps. If he could just—

He reached the edge of the dock as the gap between ship and land widened. He screamed her name. His voice caught in his throat. He tried again. If she was on deck, maybe she’d hear him. He could tell her he loved her. To wait for him.

If he had been but a few minutes earlier—

But time had betrayed him.

He placed his hands on his knees, panting, watching the ship carry her away. A few passengers were on deck, still waving to family and friends who remained on the dock. But not Esther. His head bowed, the weight of failure settling over him like an iron shroud. The taste of regret was bitter on his tongue.

But defeat was not an option. He may have missed her today.

But by God, he would be on the next ship to England.

Jaw tight, he pivoted on his heel, his mind already set on his next course of action. If he couldn’t catch the Scotia , he would simply find another way. The Cunard Line’s offices were nearby—he would secure passage on the next ship to England. He took a step forward, his pulse still hammering, when something made him stop.

A glimpse of a familiar face, spotted for a second through the shifting mass of people.

His breath caught.

Esther.

Through the sea of dockworkers, travelers, and vendors, he saw her, half-turned, her hand resting on the handle of a waiting carriage. But she wasn’t boarding. She was searching. Her gaze swept the crowd, her brows furrowed, her lips parted, as if she were hoping—praying—to see someone.

Him.

A powerful, visceral jolt went through Wang.

“Esther!” His voice tore from his throat, desperate and raw.

Her head snapped in his direction. For an instant, she froze in place, as if she couldn’t believe her own eyes. Then she moved. One step. Another. She broke into a run—her skirts lifted slightly, her movements quick, unthinking, like she couldn’t reach him fast enough.

He launched forward, closing the distance between them in great, bounding strides. People moved aside, startled by the force of his momentum. He didn’t care. Nothing else mattered but her.

They met in the middle of the docks, crashing into each other in a wild, frantic embrace. His arms locked around her waist, holding her so tightly he could feel the hammering of her heart against his chest. Her arms twined around his neck, her fingers gripping at his collar as if she might never let go.

A low, shuddering breath left him as he buried his face against her hair, inhaling the delicate, familiar scent of her. His hands trembled as they pressed against the small of her back, reassuring himself that she was real, warm, solid in his arms.

And then, unable to stop himself, he lifted her clear off the ground.

A startled laugh bubbled from her lips, smothered by his mouth as he kissed her. Right there in the open, in the middle of the bustling docks, he kissed her until her lips soothed the ache in his heart. Until his burning lungs demanded air.

Touching his forehead to hers, he whispered a breath away from her mouth.

“You are here.”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t leave.”

Her slow shake of her head rubbed their noses together. “I couldn’t. When I—”

A passerby bumped into them, muttering an apology as he hurried by. Wang stabilized them, becoming aware of his surroundings. All around them, people bustled to and fro. Some bystanders stared. Others whispered, tossing them scandalized looks. He didn’t care one fig. Let them judge. But this was not the best place to hold such an important conversation.

Taking Esther by the hand, he led her towards the carriage she had been about to board, and offered his hand as she climbed in. Her maid was already inside.

“Home?” he asked her. She nodded, and he gave the driver the address before climbing in himself.

He took both her hands in his. “I can’t believe you are here. I was crushed, thinking I had missed my chance, that I had arrived too late. And then I turned, and you were there…”

“I couldn’t go,” she said quietly. “I was about to board. The porter was halfway up the gangway with my luggage, but I stepped one foot on it, and everything felt wrong. With every fiber of my being, I knew I couldn’t go without talking to you.”

Ignoring her maid, who was doing an excellent job of looking out the window and ignoring them too, he sat next to her and gathered her into his arms.

“Thank you for not leaving, despite me being an unmitigated fool.”

“You are not a fool,” she caressed his face, her eyes roaming over his features. He didn’t know what she sought, but she must have found it, for she smiled. “But you are too noble.”

He shook his head, pressing a kiss to her palm. “I am not noble. That is precisely the problem.”

“No, you are. In the truest definition of the word. You sought to protect me and my daughter. You care deeply and don’t hesitate to sacrifice yourself for the people you love. For that, I’ll always love you. But sacrifice is not necessary in this case. In fact, I truly believe our lives would be better for having you in it.”

His indomitable Esther. “I don’t know that. It won’t be easy, Esther. Some people may shun you. Or will whisper behind your back. Others will mock you for your comedown in the world.”

“Shush.” She placed her gloved fingers delicately over his mouth. “I don’t consider it a comedown. And the people who think that don’t matter. They will either see their error, or I don’t want their friendship. You know what I realized? The thing that made it impossible for me to set foot on that ship?”

He shook his head.

“I was never afraid of scandal or rejection for myself. But I was afraid for Lizzie. What if my actions denied her opportunities? Would I decrease her chances of a good match? What if a suitor shunned her because of her mother’s choices? But then I realized that any man so close-minded and prejudiced to reject her for such a reason is not worthy of her, and she’s better off not marrying such a man. But the good ones won’t be deterred. The good ones will see her for herself. Her values, her heart. So you see, I think, if anything, our…involvement would protect her.”

His mouth lifted in a half smile. “The only kind of involvement I want between us is a marriage.” Right there in the cramped confines of the carriage, he went down on one knee and took her hand between his. “Esther, I know I don’t deserve you, but I love you with all my battered heart, and if you do me the honor of becoming my wife, I will spend the rest of my days loving you, protecting you, supporting you. Striving to make you happy.” Her eyes had flooded with tears, but her smile was shining. “Would you marry me?”

“Yes! Yes. A thousand times, yes.”

And she kissed him. She took his face in her hands, holding him gently between her palms while her mouth sought and devoured his. The carriage turned, tossing him to the side. He flailed and caught himself against the door, then he stood and sat again beside her, gathering her against his chest.

“Obviously, I haven’t done this in a very long time. That was not the romantic proposal you deserve. But never doubt that I love you more than my life.”

“I have no complaints whatsoever. It beats me proposing to you, and you rejecting me.”

Shame and sorrow swamped him. “I could never reject you. I only did what I thought was best for you. Perhaps you’d be better off if we hadn’t fallen in love.

She frowned. “No, I wouldn’t be. I thought you were past that foolishness.”

“You’ll be giving up a great many things for me.”

“Nothing that I value more than our love.”

“You won’t be a countess. You won’t be called ‘lady’.”

“Titles are just words. They are meaningless. Does it change me in any way? I will wear your name proudly.”

“Some of your old acquaintances might shun you.”

“You know what I discovered when I couldn’t walk? Society is quick to forget about you. During those years, Abigail was my only companion. None of my acquaintances visited or even wrote. Why bother when I didn’t have any juicy gossip to share? I’ve lived away from society for too long to miss it now.”

“But you will enter society now, for your daughter’s sake. What I’m trying to say is that it won’t all be sunshine and roses.”

“I know that. And I’m ready to face whatever may come our way. What about you? You are a very private man, but you will face scrutiny, suffer gossip, and bad-natured whispers. Can you bear that?”

He grabbed both of her hands, brought them to his mouth, planting a kiss on each. “Of course. For you, I can bear anything.”

The coach ground to a halt in front of his house, and they descended. Wang opened the door, but when she was about to walk through, he swept her up in his arms and carried her over the threshold. Her musical laugh lit up his soul, which had been dark and cold from the moment she left his home.

“You already carried me once over your threshold.”

“Yes, but now you are my betrothed. I will carry you over every threshold of a place we call home. Because you are my bride. My love. My forever.”