A/N: Thanks so much for those who left such lovely reviews! It is very encouraging. I wondered if anyone was really out there in this fandom, lol. Now, on with Chapter 2, this time, from William's point of view.

Chapter 2: William

Six months.

It had been six months since William had left Eliza and come to New York. The first month was full of fear that he'd done the wrong thing, that his unusually impulsive action had been the biggest mistake of his life. He was already second-guessing himself as he walked out of her house, the feel of her soft lips still heating his blood, but then, when she didn't answer his first few letters, he felt he was going mad at the thought that she was punishing him. He couldn't really say he blamed her if she were. He would never forget her look of shock and dismay that he'd confessed his love, kissed her, and still felt compelled to leave her. As much as he would have liked to hear her admit she felt the same way, his brusqueness hadn't invited it, nor had blaming her for his leaving.

He'd honestly thought that putting distance between them had been the best for both of them, but soon he saw that what he was doing was running away from their problems. He should have stayed and found some way to compromise, even though at the time he'd seen no way through their disparities. In his arrogance and disappointment that Eliza was not the type of woman he'd always dreamed of having, he'd unilaterally decided what was right for both of them, ignoring the simple fact that he was deeply in love with her. Worse still, he was glossing over his profound unhappiness with his work situation in letters that spoke of mundane things like his enjoyment of American restaurants and his crossing over the newly constructed Brooklyn Bridge. For months, his pride had kept him from admitting he'd made a colossal mistake.

Compounding his regrets concerning Eliza was his realization that he was working amidst a level of corruption in New York that he'd never seen before in Scotland Yard. Here, the police didn't even bother to hide the bribes they took or the money they extorted in exchange for police protection. He'd busted enough dirty coppers to know what it looked like, and he very quickly realized this was not the place for him.

But once again, he felt stuck by his choices, though he vowed to stick it out, to keep his head down, to do what he was told like he always had before. And so he pretended to look the other way from the bribery and extortion. He chose to be conveniently absent during Chief Detective Byrnes's interrogations, which Byrnes, a rough, mustachioed Irishman proudly referred to as "the third degree." The interrogations were brutally conducted with the help of a well-applied billy club, literally beating confessions out of his suspects. After the first of these interrogations he'd witnessed, William hadn't the stomach to watch any more. He might have spoken out against this, but Byrnes was powerful, beloved by his men, the Mayor, and the citizens of New York. Thomas Byrnes was famous for recently capturing the culprits in a large bank robbery, as well as for securing the arrests of nearly 3,000 suspects during his short tenure as Chief Detective. The papers continually showered him with praise. Given all that, to whom could William complain? Besides, William was a foreigner, an outsider whose opinion would mean nothing.

It was Byrnes who'd chosen William's new nickname, Scotty, the moment he'd heard William's Glasgow brogue. Since Byrnes was the boss, it stuck, and just like that, The Duke was no more. For William, it was one more indication that this wretched place was literally stealing his identity, eating away at his very soul. Despite some of the good detective work he was doing there, he was beginning to hate himself even more than his job, and he was on the verge of quitting and running back to Eliza, begging her forgiveness for his folly.

And then, like from an angel sent from Heaven to rescue him, he heard the soft lilt of her voice telling the Deputy Chief that she needed to have a word with William.

"Eliza," he interrupted, his voice gruff with barely checked emotion. She turned around, her blue eyes locking with his, the joy mixed with trepidation mirroring his own.

"Hello, William."

It was all he could do not to stride over and take her into his arms and kiss her passionately, as he should have done six months ago. He forced himself to stand still, to calm himself and assess the situation like a good detective. He became aware of the dozen or so sets of eyes watching the spectacle, some of them accusing, some of them merely curious.

"This lady here claims to be your wife, Scotty," said Deputy Chief O'Leary. "You never said nothin' about havin' a wife."

William almost laughed aloud. So this was Eliza's game plan to get back here to see him. He hadn't realized till that moment how much he'd missed her shenanigans. Her eyes were pleading with him not to blow her cover, and before he could even think, the lies came tumbling out of his mouth so smoothly that he could give Eliza Scarlet a run for her money.

"My super back at Scotland Yard frowns upon detectives being married, says it divides the attention. We married in secret last year." There were a few nods of understanding. He'd learned that roughly half of the detectives in this bureau were married men, and among them, half again were estranged from their wives. "I apologize, Deputy Chief. I wasn't expecting her uh, visit."

Eliza's eyes glittered with admiration and quickly staunched amusement. "Surprise!" she said lamely, pretending sheepishness.

There was a smattering of laughter, and William felt the headiness of having gotten away with something. This feeling must be what Eliza felt every time she'd pulled the wool over someone's eyes.

"Wait," piped up Collins, his desk mate. "You called her Eliza. This isn't the lady detective you've spoken about, is it?"

"One and the same," said William, who couldn't keep the affection from his voice. "Gentlemen, may I present my wife, Mrs. Eliza Scarlet Wellington."

To both his and Eliza's surprise, there was nothing but warmth and approval greeting this announcement, and a few of the men came forward to take her hand and slap William on the back. He'd been guilty of telling stories of Eliza's adventures, leaving out some of the questionable things she'd done, giving her all the credit for the successes that he'd failed to tout as he should have back in London. It had felt good to talk about her, had helped him cope with missing her and had given him a perspective that only distance could.

"You weren't wrong about what a looker she is," commented Collins. Even travel-weary, Eliza was quite the most beautiful woman most of the men there had ever seen, and that certainly included William. He felt himself blushing as Eliza smiled knowingly at him. He'd been caught singing her praises to strangers—he'd never hear the end of that one. He suddenly realized it must look strange that he hadn't come closer to his "wife," and he did so now, reaching for her hand, feeling the jolt from her touch throughout his body. He smiled gently into her eyes.

"Sir," he said, not even looking at O'Leary, "would you mind if I took a few moments to properly greet my wife?"

"I'd think you were addlepated if you didn't, Scotty. It's nearly lunch time. Take her for a good meal and don't come back until tomorrow or you're fired."

"Thank you, Sir. And Collins-" he began to his partner.

"Don't think of it," the man replied, "I'll see to the paperwork for your new suspect. Go on then. Enjoy your afternoon." He grinned in understanding, himself the rare, happily married man. In truth, Collins was the one person he'd found in the Detective Bureau that seemed to have a strong moral compass.

"You're a good man. I'll owe ya one," said William. "Now, my dear, let's get out of here."

She squeezed his hand. "Please. It was a pleasure meeting you all," she said, waving to William's colleagues.

A few waved back, but most had already lost interest and were back at their desks.

They didn't speak as William grabbed his bowler hat from the hatrack and pulled Eliza by the hand through the throng of officers and arrestees. His heart was pounding as if he'd been running, so anxious to get her alone so he could ask her the multitude of questions weighing on his mind; anxious to have her in his arms again, if that's what she wanted. He didn't know what he'd do if she didn't. He was feeling so much emotion in that moment that he was actually trembling.

At the door, William nearly tripped over a small trunk in his way. "Who the bloody hell-?" he growled. Eliza laughed nervously.

"That's mine. Could you take it with you us to—to wherever we're going?"

He picked it up easily, grateful that she traveled light for a woman.

Outside, he nodded to a uniformed officer who stood at the bottom of the precinct steps, who immediately hailed them a cab. William put the trunk on the back of the vehicle, where the driver stored it in the luggage compartment there.

He handed Eliza up the step, happy that the single seat was so narrow they would have to squeeze together. Her slim body pressed warmly to his side, he smiled, wrapping her right arm more comfortably around his left, lacing her fingers through his, pleased that she let him.

"We should drop your trunk off. Where are you staying?"

She shrugged, her cheeks coloring. "I don't have a place yet. I uh, didn't exactly work out all the details when I boarded the ship."

Some of his old frustration with her managed to seep out, but it was more than tinged with a new affection. "Of course you didn't. I stay at a boarding house near the precinct. Maybe there's a room for you there."

William opened the sliding door in the roof of the cab and directed the driver to take them around the corner to Harrison House. He slid the door shut again, and the driver moved them into traffic.

"It's a respectable place for young unmarried men and women," he told her. "Mrs. Harrison is a tyrant about the rules. It's a bit cramped, but very clean, and the food is delicious."

"That sounds lovely," Eliza said dryly, but she wasn't about to complain. Her brow suddenly furrowed though, and she hesitated. "Is it very expensive?"

He looked down into Eliza's lovely face in concern. She was wearing his favorite dress of hers, the burgundy one that brought out the roses in her cheeks, that made her blue eyes stand out even more vividly. For a moment, he was distracted by her beauty, by her closeness.

"William?"

"Oh, uh, no, not too expensive." His voice grew gentle. "You've written things have been slow; do you need money, Eliza?"

She averted her eyes in embarrassment. "As I said, I didn't think this through very well." This was actually unlike her; Eliza always had a plan—often foolhardy, but a plan nonetheless. It gave him hope that she might have been so eager to see him that she'd acted more impulsively than usual.

"I can loan you enough to get you by while you're here."

"Thank you, William. I promise I'll pay you back, once business picks up."

But he knew in his heart he would never attempt to collect this debt. It was enough payment that she was here, holding his hand. He wanted desperately to kiss her, but he found himself merely staring at her, the surrealness of having her here, in New York City, throwing him into an awkward shyness. She seemed to have fallen under the same spell, for her usual chattiness that he would have expected seemed to have momentarily dried up. He knew he had a million questions for her, but she was looking up at him so adoringly, her hand in his, that for the moment, he couldn't have asked for more.

It wasn't long before the driver stopped before a stately old home, constructed sometime in the early part of the century. William brought her hand to his lips before releasing it. "Wait here. I'll take your trunk in an inquire about a room."

William hopped out, took possession of the trunk again, and told the driver to wait. Ten minutes later, he returned with a grin.

"We're in luck. I secured a room down the hall from mine." He handed her a key, which she dropped into her handbag. "Room 204. They're putting your trunk in there for you."

"Thank you, William," she said simply. He knew it was difficult for her to ask for help in this way. She was very proud, just like he was.

"And by the way, you're my cousin, visiting from London."

Her lips quirked in amusement. "Remind me to change my ring to the other hand whenever I'm at the boarding house, and back again at the police station."

He chuckled. "'Oh what a tangled web we weave…'" They smiled at each other.

"Whereto, Mister?" asked the driver suddenly, since they were still waiting in front of Harrison House.

"You feel like taking a stroll?" he asked Eliza.

"Yes! I've been a week without much exercise."

He nodded, then spoke with the driver: "Central Park."

Again, they rode in silence, William wanting to know everything that had compelled her to come, yet reluctant to ruin this moment of sheer happiness by the possibility of disappointment. He boldly took her hand again, and they enjoyed the brief drive to the park.

William paid the driver through the little door and handed Eliza down onto the sidewalk. She took his arm, and they set out for a path that led into the park. It was a beautiful spring afternoon. There were blossoming trees everywhere, the grassy spaces newly green, a rainbow of tulips lining the walkway. Children were laughing as they flew a kite in the warm breeze. Throngs of other strollers passed them by, some admiring the striking couple that they made.

"Don't mind me if I sway from side to side, or stumble a bit," Eliza said, leaning heavily on his arm. "I still feel like I'm walking on the steamboat deck."

"I know the feeling. As a matter of fact, I'm feeling a bit like that now, like the ground is shifting beneath my feet."

Startled by his admission, she looked up into his face, but he was looking straight ahead. "Why have you come, Eliza?" he asked at last. He was a detective at heart, and unsolved mysteries tended to bother him. His heart sped up as he waited for her answer.

"Ivy and Mr. Potts were married the day before I got on the ship. They've gone to Dover for their honeymoon. I had no cases, and the house was very lonely, William. I felt like I might go mad…"

William's body stiffened. He couldn't articulate the hurt he was feeling in that moment. He'd desperately hoped she'd come to admit her feelings for him, that she couldn't bear to spend another day without him, that she wanted to find a way that they could be together. Instead, it was as it always was—she only came to him when she needed something from him. His voice grew suddenly cold, and he stopped in the middle of the crowded path to glare at her accusingly.

"So you travelled across the sea with little money in your purse because you felt lonely and bored."

"No! Well, yes. But that wasn't—"

"Ever since you took over your father's business it's been this way. You come to me with your smiles and your—your eyes, and expect me to be at your beck and call. I don't exist for your amusement, Eliza. Has this time apart taught you nothing? Did what I told you before I left mean anything to you?"

Suddenly, her hackles were up too. She looked around them, noticing the disapproving stares. Straightening her back, she lowered her voice.

"Let us not quarrel in the center of a public walkway, William."

And she turned and walked with dignity away toward a grassy area beneath a grove of red blossomed maple trees. He watched her go, naturally expecting him to follow. For a rebellious moment, he almost decided to walk away and leave her there, but with a frustrated huff, he took off his hat and ducked into the relative privacy of the trees.

He was about to lay into her again, but she held up a staying hand. "Before you bite off my head the rest of the way, might I be given a chance to explain myself?"

Unable to trust himself, he merely nodded. He found he was once again in the painfully familiar position of wanting to both strangle and kiss her senseless at the same time. It was infuriating that nothing, apparently, had changed.

"What is wrong with you, William? Why in the world would I come all this way to be harangued in this manner? Had I wanted that, I could have stayed in London and visited Inspector Phelps."

His own short laugh caught him by surprise and he found his ire lessening. He sighed and swiped one hand down his face from his forehead to his beard. "Then why, Eliza?" he repeated. "Why the devil did you come?"

She took a step closer to him, reaching up to tentatively touch his beard. He stood still, his pulse racing at her touch.

"Because, you stupid, stubborn…exasperating man, I wanted to tell you that—that I—I love you too. And I didn't want to tell you in a let—"

William gave into his second impulse and pulled her almost roughly into his arms, his mouth finding hers in a searing kiss that quickly fired his blood. Her lips were soft and yielding, and he swallowed her gasp as he delved inside with his tongue. He forgot where they were, forgot that he should be a gentleman as he pressed his body closer, exploring her sweetness, the sensuality of her full lips.

Lips that had haunted him all of his adult life.

Her hands were busy at his broad shoulders, sliding up to caress his beard, to rake into his hair, her short nails making him shiver and emit an involuntary moan from his throat. The sound seemed to awaken them both, and he used Herculean strength to disengage from her tempting mouth, to bring his hands from her slim waist to gently grasp her upper arms. She opened dazed blue eyes to look at him, and he couldn't resist one more chaste kiss to her swollen lips. Their breathing was fast and ragged, and in that moment, should he die tomorrow, William Wellington would at least have known perfect happiness once in his life.

"You're not goin' to slap me now, are you?" he asked, smiling because he found he couldn't do otherwise.

"So long as you don't follow through with your desire to strangle me."

He laughed out loud at that. "So you're a mind-reader now."

"No," she said, through her own wide smile, "just an observant detective."

He gathered her again into his arms. "You love me," he whispered into her ear in wonder.

She didn't hesitate now, holding him tightly. "Yes, as I have since the moment I saw you."

He reached up and re-settled her charmingly askew hat, oddly satisfied that he was responsible for that as well as the vivid pinkness of her cheeks.

"It was the same with me, love," he said simply. "Ah, the time that we have wasted on all this clapperclawing."

"You started it," she said, putting them both in mind of their teenage years.

He grinned at that, but then his eyes grew serious as he recalled that there still was the problem of how they would resolve their fundamental differences enough to truly be together. "The question now is, how do we finish it?"

A/N: So, one hurdle overcome. How will they get over the rest? Thanks for reading. Another chapter to come.

PS: If you choose to bless me with a review, it would be great if you logged in so I could thank you personally :)