“My brother…”
Her eyes flew up to him. “I swear I never tried to mislead him, Rorrick. I never…never…I was nice, that was all. I talked to him when no one else would. I—”
Rorrick’s right hand slammed into the door by her head. “Dammit, Johnny.”
She cringed, her body curling into itself.
His hand slammed into the door again. “And you’ve known this the whole blasted time, yet you never told me, Cass?” He slammed his hand again onto the door, this time pushing off as he did it, stomping far away from her.
Far, far away from her.
His hand ran through his hair, his fingers landing on his neck as he stared at the ceiling. “And you lied to me about it. Hell, you—you said you didn’t know.”
“Ror—”
His look whipped to her. “‘They close ranks amongst themselves—the ton, the peerage. You are an outsider.’ Your exact words, Cass.” His words slid through gritted teeth.
She blinked hard, the misdirection that had been so easy to her lips on the ship to America flooding her mind.
Misdirection—a holding of the truth—a lie, all of it. She had lied.
She had lied about the most important thing to him. And more than anything, Rorrick despised lies—had no margin for them in his life.
Her head began to shake. “I never meant to lie—by the time I knew you—truly knew you, could trust you—it was too late. I was the cause of your brother’s death and I knew you would be looking at me like you are now and I could not handle that. Your repulsion. Your hatred.”
His head shook, his lip turning into a sneer. “I…”
“Ror—”
“Were you ever going to tell me, Cass?”
“I—I—” Her voice faltered, her head dropping forward. “I don’t know.”
He stomped across the room to her, reaching past her waist to the doorknob. “I can’t be around you, Cass. Not now.”
He yanked the door open, sending her stumbling.
Three steps to the front door, and he was gone.
Her body shaking, she stood behind the door, staring at the settee. It would only be a short stumble to reach it, but she couldn’t lift her feet. Couldn’t move for the trembles racking her muscles.
The settee was not for her. Not with her weak knees.
She sank, collapsing to the floor, wedged between the wall and the door, disbelief racking her body. Tears blinding her.
She had carried that lie for so long. Refused to acknowledge that lie for so long, that it had disappeared—disappeared like it had never happened.
But it had.
And now she had lost everything.
{ Chapter 20 }
Thwack.
He hadn’t anticipated the thwack on his head when he’d heard the scuffle at his front door.
The sting of it caught him off-guard and sent him spinning as he jumped to his feet, the whiskey in his glass splattering onto his boots.
“You left her? Why would you be such an ass?” Lady Alton stood in his study behind his wingback chair, her hands on her hips, her look piercing him.
Rorrick searched about the room and then to the open door. The thwack on his skull had been so hard he was sure it had been a man’s hand.
“Where is your husband, Lady Alton?”
“He is on his way in, having been sidetracked by your butler—but I was not standing for a minute longer than necessary when you needed to be rightly swatted.”
It had been her. Alton, he could have hit—but not so Violet. His hand curled, clasping to his side as he considered the ramifications of throwing her out of his house. “I explicitly told Gregors not to answer the door for anyone.”
“Yes, well, he made the mistake of looking out the window when we knocked.” Violet tugged off her gloves, twisting them in her hands as she glared at him. “How could you do this, Rorrick? How?”
“What?”
“What?” She scoffed a chuckle. “You know very well what. You left Cass and she thinks the whole episode with your wretched brother—”
“Take care on where your tongue goes when it speaks of my brother, Violet.”
She waved her gloves in the air. “Cass thinks the duel was her fault.”
His head snapped back. “She what?”
“She has always believed it was her fault. Your brother’s blood on her hands.”
Lord Alton stepped into the library with a nod to Rorrick. He closed the door behind him.
Violet glanced over her shoulder at her husband, and then her look returned to Rorrick, pinning him. “I refuse to curb my tongue where your brother is concerned, Rorrick. I understand your loyalty to him, but your brother was an ass of the highest order. He was the one that attacked Cass. He was the one that tried to force himself upon her. Yet she blames herself for the whole of it.”
“No.”
“Yes. No matter how Adalia and I have attempted to convince her otherwise. It was not her fault. Cass never once implied or bandied about with your brother’s attentions. She was always cordial and professional with him. Never did she insinuate there could be more. But your brother thought to take it upon himself what was not offered.”
Rorrick shook his head, his look landing on the flickering flames of the fire. Damn Johnny. Damn him.
“What?” Violet stepped around the wingback chair, planting herself in front of him. “Do you not believe me?”
A flame flicked high, cracking.
Why was he battling this—battling the truth? He knew who his brother was better than anyone. He tore his eyes away from the fire, looking first to Alton. The man stood, attentive, a quiet support, but smart enough to keep his mouth closed. He knew his wife could handle this.
Rorrick’s gaze dipped, settling on Violet. “No, I do. I do believe you, as much as it pains me to say so.”
She inclined her head, the scold on her face easing slightly. Yet her violet-blue eyes pinned him, challenging him. “So how much does it pain you to know Cass is now wallowing in her guilt, in the grief that you left her in?”
“I didn’t leave her.”
Violet’s hands went back to her hips, the fabric of her blue muslin dress tugging against her babe-swollen belly. Her look hardened once more. “You did.”
“No. I just had to breathe—away from her.” He ran his fingers through his hair, his palm landing on the back of his neck. “She lied.”
“Yes. She did. She didn’t tell you all she knew.” Violet’s head tilted to the side, the irate creases in her brow deepening. “And I ask you, so what? So what if she lied?”
“She shouldn’t have.”
“Think, Rorrick, think.” The tips of Violet’s fingers tapped her temple. “Do you think she was aching to tell you about how your brother near forced himself upon her? Would that have been an easy thing to chat about? Should she have brought up the topic the first time you met? The second? When would have been the proper time? Especially when your brother is dead.”
Her hands started to twist her gloves again. “Maybe Cass didn’t want you to think less of him. Maybe she was protecting you from the knowledge that he would stoop to such a heinous act.” She took a step closer, her voice vibrating with intensity. “Maybe she was thinking of you, and only you when she lied, when she didn’t tell you what had transpired.”
Rorrick’s head dropped, his chest tightening.
Every single word Violet uttered was truth. Truth he didn’t want to hear, didn’t want to acknowledge. Truth he fought against, even though he was an idiot for doing so.
An idiot.
Why was he fighting so hard to make his brother into something he wasn’t? Fighting to make Johnny into who Rorrick always wanted him to be—needed him to be.
Johnny was dead, and his history could not be changed.
But the present—the present could be changed.
His head snapped up. “I have…I have made a grievous error.”
Violet’s eyelids flickered, su
rprise sending her jaw askew. “I—I did not expect you to admit to the mistake so quickly.”
“I don’t care for lies.” Rorrick paused and then swallowed the last mouthful of whiskey still in his glass. He stepped to the mantel, setting the empty tumbler atop before turning back to Violet. “Especially lies I tell myself. And this would be one. You are right, Violet. My brother was not a good man.” His head shook. “And Cass...”
“She is a diamond. The kindest, most generous, most tenderhearted person I know.”
“Yes.”
A hard glint flashed in Violet’s eyes. “And you left her.”
“Yes.” He stared at Violet.
“And you also hit her.”
He blinked hard. “I what?”
“She has a lump on the side of her head.” Violet tapped her forehead right above her right eyebrow. “She does not blame you—she said she got in the way of your elbow. But I blame you.”
His gut clenched, sinking. “She does? I…I…”
He had only seen red in those moments in the foyer. Only red. Only fury. Only the man that killed his brother. The instant that his arm had swung back and his elbow had hit something solid flashed in his mind.
Cass’s skull.
His hand went to his eyes, rubbing the bleariness from them. Rubbing the stupidity from them. “Hell.”
“Exactly.” Violet nodded. “So what are you waiting for, Lord Vandestile?”
~~~
Rorrick found Cass sitting alone in one of the private upper gaming rooms.
His head poking into the room, he searched her profile, noting the slight swelling next to her right temple. The skin tinged pink, he could almost feel the throbbing of it in his own veins. Through puffy eyes, her vacant stare was on the purple velvet of the gaming table, her hands limp in her lap. She still wore the thin silk robe she had been in hours ago.
Body and soul, she was limp, wasted.
He had done that. He’d done all of this to her.
He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. At the sound her eyes lifted, travelling to him slowly. For a long moment, she stared at him blankly, only the slightest flicker of recognition in her eyes.
“Rorrick.” His name exhaled from her lips, weary, defeated. “I cannot take any more. Please. No more. I have nothing left. Please just leave.”
He saw it then—what was amiss about her dull eyes.
Hope had vanished.
The light always burning in her golden brown eyes—no matter the circumstances—had been snuffed out.
Broken.
After everything. This was the thing that broke her.
“What are you doing in here, Cass?” His voice cautious, he stayed by the door.
“Deciding.”
“Deciding what?”
“Deciding what is next. The ocean is nice. I may go there. Take Percival and Lilah with me. I do love those two.”
“The ocean?”
“I am not meant to be around people, Rorrick, and I am so weary of trying. Of forcing myself to be someone I’m not. Violet, Adalia—I love them and I have always wanted to be like them. But I am not. How they managed the Revelry’s Tempest—how their lives have gone, mine never will. I am not them. I have to accept that. So I have to move on from here. From society. From wanting things I will never have.”
He closed his eyes, his chest tightening. That he had done this to her.
In all that she had suffered and survived, nothing had been able to extinguish her hope. Nothing but him. Him walking out on her.
In just those few moments hours ago, he had wounded her—failed her—more than he realized he ever could, and his muscles twitched, aching to back himself out the door. To back up time.
But the past he could not erase.
Complication.
So he needed to move forward. And there was only one way to do that.
Start in the dark and work toward the light.
“You lied to me, Cass.”
“I did.” She nodded, her reply immediate and flat.
“That is all you can say?”
“Yes. I did lie.” Her look drifted down to the wide round gaming table, her voice wooden. “I cannot even apologize for it, because I would do it again, Rorrick. I would lie to you because I am weak. Because I don’t hold honor sacred. Because I would have lost you instantly with the truth, but as long as I could hold the secret, I could hold you. So, yes, I did lie. Right or wrong, that was where my choice lived.”
He inhaled sharply, her words so raw in their truth he had to take a long moment to collect his whirlwind of thoughts.
His chin dipped to his chest. Three deep breaths.
His face lifted, his look centering on her. “Johnny’s death wasn’t your fault, Cass.”
Her gaze drifted from the table to him. “Now who is lying?”
“My brother was not a good man, Cass. I know that—I’ve always known it. And I didn’t…I didn’t react as I should have earlier. For that, I am sorry. For those moments when you believed my brother was more important to me than you. Especially after what he did to you…” His left hand curled into a fist. “I would have killed him myself for that.”
A surge of fire shot through his veins, making him take a long stride toward her. “So to blame yourself for Johnny’s depravity is pure madness, Cass. My brother was the one to attack you. My brother picked up a pistol in his own hand to shoot at a man. My brother did not know how to stop his own blasted idiocy. And whatever justice was delivered, it was justice that the fates had decided upon. You did not kill him—willingly or unwillingly.”
The tip of her head leaned to the side, her eyes closing. Whether she believed him or not—or would ever believe him on that score—he could not discern.
“Cass—”
“You ripped my heart out, Rorrick.” Her closed eyes squinted hard, refusing to open.
“I did.” He took another step toward her.
“And it is that heart that I no longer have to give for this.”
Her broken words made his steps falter. But falter only for a moment. Three more steps and he was to her side, looking down at her, his fingers aching to touch her, to grab her. “Then I will take your mind, Cass. Or your body. Or your soul. Whatever part of you, you can give me, I will take. I will take anything because I love you completely.”
He sank, dropping to his knees by her side. “Let me carry this burden. I have enough hope for the two of us that your heart will follow. That someday, your heart will heal and be full and it will give everything to us. For you—for us—I will hope, Cass. I will hope because you—a life with you, a family with you—is worth it.”
Her eyes cracked open, her look flickering to him. “You don’t hope, Rorrick.”
“I do now.”
He lifted his hand, the tips of his fingers going lightly to the bump on her forehead. “I am so sorry for this.” His fingers drifted down along her cheek, dropping to land on her bare chest. His hand flattened, sliding under the edge of her wrap until his palm covered her heart.
The beat of it—rapid, hard, wild—buoyed him like nothing else. She thought her heart was done. He could feel it wasn’t.
“I am sorry for this, Foxfire. And I will never give your heart another reason to doubt.”
His eyes found hers. “Risk it, Cass. Risk lighting the hope in your eyes. You are the bravest person I know, Cass. Risk it. For me. For you.”
She stared at him. Blankly at first.
Blink.
The hurt flashed in her eyes.
Blink.
The pain.
Blink.
Blink.
Blink.
The slightest touch of fire appeared in the deep golden shards of her eyes. It hit him like a wall of bricks, sending him slightly backward. But he kept his hand wide over her heart, his fingertips curled into her bare skin.
Blink.
The spark in her eyes manifested in full. The most beautiful thing he would ever
witness in his life.
Blink.
And there it was. Hope. Love.
His mouth suddenly dry, he had to force words up past the thick lump in his throat. “I meant to marry you on this day, Foxfire, and I still do.” His right palm stayed in place on her chest as he lifted his left hand, cupping the side of her face. “If you will have me.”
Her eyes closed for a long second. The beating of her heart told him his answer long before her eyes opened. She nodded, her cheek rubbing along the palm of his hand. “Yes.”
“Good, as I still have the special license in hand if you would kindly put a dress on.”
“But the clergyman. He is long gone.”
“Violet and Alton are in the process of bringing him back to the house.”
Her brow furrowed. “They are?”
Rorrick shrugged. “Violet has great regard for my persuasive powers. You choose your friends well, Cass. The duke and duchess are already downstairs. They never left.”
Her look snapped to him. “Logan…”
Rorrick winced. With a long exhale, he sank backward, his hands dropping from her as he sat on his heels. It took a long breath before he looked up at her, his jaw set hard. “It is much to reconcile, Cass. He killed my brother. I cannot forgive him for that. Yet he was protecting you. And I cannot express enough gratitude for that.”
Her golden eyes searched his face, a frown tugging down the corners of her lips. “So it will remain complicated?”
“You are alive. My brother is not.” Rorrick reached up, sliding his hand over hers on her lap. “And I am not a man willing to live in the past. So maybe it is not as complicated as it seems.”
Her eyes closed as she inhaled a long breath, her chest rising. The lines on her face relaxed, relief visibly swelling through her body.
She opened her eyes to him and leaned forward. Pausing with her face just before his, her lips brushed lightly against his. “I do love you, Rorrick.”
Of Risk & Redemption: A Revelry’s Tempest Novel Page 19