Their engagement had been well known amongst the ton. It was expected by that point that they would attend events and assemblies together, their marriage but a month away. It was the day after they had been discussing the wedding preparations when a note had arrived for Augusta.
The sender had not left a name, but the note had intimated that there was something about Loftus she did not know, and if she wished to know exactly who she was marrying, then she should go to Hyde Park at eight o’clock that evening. She had been too curious to ignore it.
With some difficulty, she had crept out of the house, informing no one of what she was doing. Concealed by her dark pelisse and a large hat, she had crept into the corners of Hyde Park and secreted herself behind the bushes near the flower borders, giving her a good view of the pathways and the benches. She had stood persuading herself it was some ridiculous prank, as for many minutes no one appeared, but eventually, Loftus had emerged.
In the moonlight he had walked down the path, moving towards a bench. She could see him clearly in the moonlight, her nerves growing with every minute, wondering why he was there. Soon, a young lady approached. She had greeted Loftus with warmth.
Augusta had not been able to see Loftus’ face from the angle in which they were stood, but she had seen the woman. She had long blonde hair and bright eyes, she was smiling at Loftus in the way Augusta herself often did. As the two of them took a seat on the bench, their faces were hidden from Augusta.
The conversation was animated, that much was clear, but then Loftus laid an arm across the woman’s shoulders and she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.
The disgust Augusta felt had been sharp. She was both humiliated and furious that Loftus could betray her trust in such a way.
They were supposed to be in love, yet he would entertain another young lady’s company in the evening completely alone? It was an unforgivable betrayal and showed to Augusta exactly what Loftus thought of his betrothal to her: an arrangement for marriage’s sake, no real love at all.
She had run away from the bushes, fearing she made too much noise as her boots broke the twigs beneath her feet, but she kept running, all the way home where she cried most of the night, her heart torn in two by the man she had thought was the love of her life. The next morning, she told her father their betrothal was at an end and sent a letter to Loftus to call off the wedding.
She had been too proud to talk of it, but there was also the fact she still cared for Loftus enough to not want to destroy his reputation in that way. So, she had kept it a secret, even from James and her own parents, choosing instead to suffer her heartbreak in silence.
She knew he had been to the house many times, demanding an explanation. Yet each time she had avoided seeing him. She had been so in love with him, she could not bear to put herself through the pain of having to see him lie so much to her face. She did not need to see him come up with excuses, from what she saw, there was nothing he could say to make it better.
He had deceived her and cared for another woman entirely.
Just a month later, Loftus married the woman from the park. Augusta had cried for so long she felt as though her body were dry and shriveled up. She thought that it was possible a person was allocated only so many tears in their lifetime, and she had spent all of hers on Loftus.
She twisted over in the bed again, looking back up to the ceiling and pushing away the memories.
She felt trapped. She had fallen back into a situation that had put her in close contact with Loftus, and just as before, it had been easy to care for him. She could not deny she had feelings for him, and she cared for Markus too. She would love to raise the child and dote on him, but Loftus was too great a risk to pin her happiness too.
He would hurt me all over again.
Loftus was putting Markus to bed, with his mind still caught up with thoughts of Augusta. Markus seemed happy; his smile great as he climbed into the bed. Loftus pulled the covers up to his son’s neck and brushed back his hair from his forehead, a gesture of love as he sat on the bed beside the boy.
“Papa, will Miss Creassey be my new mother?” The sound of Markus’ voice filled him with delight. He dropped a kiss to the boy’s forehead, overjoyed to hear him speaking again and unable to restrain himself. As he sat, the boy looked up at him, the green eyes that matched his own were wide with expectation.
He struggled with how to answer for a moment. It was a complicated matter.
“We will see,” he replied with a soft tone eventually, brushing back Markus’ hair once again. “Now, you get some sleep, and we will talk more in the morning. Goodnight, Markus.”
He left the boy to his sleep and took the candle with him, hesitating in the doorway as he watched his son close his eyes and tuck his small body beneath the covers.
Augusta would make a good mother to Markus.
He smiled at this thought as he walked down the corridor, aiming for his own bed chamber. Once inside, he moved to his desk and brought out the leather folder that contained all the drawings he had of her.
He turned to the very first drawing he had made of her after their initial meeting. It was a sweet picture of just her face, her head tilted to the side as she smiled at him. His eyes traced the pencil marks as he thought of her.
He realized he could forgive her for breaking off their first engagement. In truth, they had both been very young at the time, likely to make foolish mistakes and perhaps not yet mature enough for such a relationship. He could forgive her for it even if her actions had led him to marry a woman whose madness and lunacy would drive her to an early grave and him to melancholy.
The unhappiness and despair Maria had brought to his life made him close his eyes for a moment and look away from the perfect pictures of Augusta. How he wished he could turn back time and undo his marriage to Maria, yet, if he could, there would be no Markus, and he loved him so dearly, he could not truthfully regret the marriage solely because of that reason.
He opened his eyes and returned to the drawings, turning to the very last one he had made of Augusta. It was of her from the evening of the storm, the way she had ran into the house, her back turned to him, trying to escape the rain.
He felt as though they were forever stuck in that position. Him standing behind her whilst she ran away.
They now had the opportunity to mend the pain of the past. Whatever the reason she had rejected him before, he could fix it, and they could marry now. They could have the happy family and the good life together they had talked of eight years ago.
Why does she not want that too?
He could have sworn she cared for him. The way she had threaded her hands in his hair during their lovemaking, the way she had moaned his name. It had to be more than just desire.
Why is she holding back from me?
He threw the book across the desk, casting it to the side, a sudden determination filling him. He was tired of dancing around their issues. For so many days he had tried to ignore her effect on him, now he had made up his mind to marry her, he had to know what was stopping them from their happiness. Had to know why she had ended the betrothal at all.
He stood to his feet, with his conviction summoning bravery from him.
Tomorrow, I will find out what keeps her from me.
Chapter Thirteen
Augusta was waiting for Markus’ arrival with expectation. She had set up some new games for them to play on the drawing room table and as the doorbell rang, she turned expectantly to the drawing room door, waiting for the footman to bring in Markus.
When the door opened, she was stunned to find Markus was not her visitor. The maid curtsied before disappearing, leaving her guest staring at her with anticipation.
It was Loftus.
“Is Markus not here?” She looked past him, neither of them bothered with the formalities on this occasion. It seemed too much had now passed between them.
“Not today,” Loftus shook his head, keeping his place on his side of the ro
om with his chin high.
Augusta noted the distance between them, the whole breadth of the room – it was a stark contrast to the afternoon before - spent on her bed. She pushed the image of him in the throes of passion from her mind and tried to focus on the present moment.
“I have come for an answer to my proposal,” he said simply. The plainness of his words had her reeling for a moment. She leaned behind her, toward the glass doors that led out onto the terrace in the garden, looking for support.
“I told you that I needed time to think,” she replied with a little anger, keeping her focus on her feet.
“And I want to know what it is you need to think about. What obstacle is there for us to marry?” He gestured with open arms, clear exasperation in his manner. “Please, give me your answer.”
She knew her answer. She was convinced of it. She could not place herself in such danger to be so harmed by him again.
“My answer is no.” She flicked her head away from him and reached for the glass doors, pushing on the handle and rushing outside onto the terrace.
“Augusta!” He called after her.
She did not look back, she kept her chin high and marched across the terrace towards the garden and the glass house, determined to put space between them. She could hear him close behind her, refusing to let her go.
“Is that the only reply I am to expect? A simple no?” He rushed ahead, cutting in front of her and bringing her to a sharp halt as they stood amongst the trees of the garden. “It reminds me a lot of a time eight years ago. When I received your rejection in just a two-line letter delivered to my door.”
She scoffed and walked around him, desperate to escape him.
“Augusta,” he called after her, refusing to relent. “For goodness sake, would you stop running away from me!”
“No,” she called back as she reached the door of the glass house and opened it, rushing inside. To her annoyance, before she could lock it, he reached the door and pushed it open to join her inside. She let out a growl of frustration and turned away from him, walking around a small group of palm trees to put the plants between them.
“I am tired of this charade,” his anger came in a torrent now, his face flushed red. “As you are about to break my heart for the second time in my life, I think I deserve a good explanation for it.”
“Break your heart?” She scoffed, turning away and walking through the hot house, down an avenue of tropical plants. “The irony of that comment seems particularly ridiculous to me.”
“What on earth do you mean by that?” He followed her, until they reached the end of the avenue where more plants were blooming, their great flowers blossoming in the heart of the glass house. “Tell me why you cannot marry me. Yesterday…” He paused, struggling for the right words, prompting her to look at him across the blossoming plants that parted them. “I saw that you kept the necklace. What we shared is beyond just lust. Would you truly lie to me now and tell me you feel nothing for me?”
“Oh, good lord!” She snapped her head to him, her own anger spiking. “Of course, I feel something for you. I do not think I have ever stopped caring for you since the moment that I met you,” her confession had her insides writhing, as though they were flinching away from her own words. Their silent plea to make her stop and not lay her heart out in the open for him to see.
She knew she could not escape explaining herself now. He needed an answer, and she would give him one. She would finally confront him with what he had done to her all those years ago.
“Yes, I still care for you,” her mind thought of all the other ways to describe her feelings for him. She yearned for him and was tormented by him. “But I cannot risk going through again everything I had to face eight years ago. You say that I broke your heart, yet you seem to have no idea that you were the one who broke mine. You made it abundantly clear eight years ago that whatever you felt for me clearly mattered no great deal to you!” She clutched a hand to her chest, watching as his face slackened, his eyes wide on her.
“I broke your heart?” He repeated, shaking his head in apparent bafflement.
“I do not want to marry you just because you feel obligated to ask me,” she looked away from him, turning in a circle, unable to look at his green eyes. “Can you imagine how that feels? To know that you wish to marry me just because it is the right thing to do after what passed yesterday?”
“I think I might go mad at any moment if we are to continue this conversation in this way,” he walked around the plants, moving closer to her and forcing her gaze up to his. “I do not understand why you think in any way I was the one that broke your heart. You were the one that toyed with me,” he pointed to her. “You broke off our betrothal without an explanation! Leaving me to wonder every night for the last eight years what on earth happened.”
She tried to turn away from him, but he cut in front of her again, nearly knocking over one of the plants in his effort to catch her gaze.
“Augusta, I am not asking you to marry me because of obligation,” he spat the word out as though it were disgusting to him. “I am asking you to marry me because it is something I want. I care for you. Just as you have now confessed to caring for me.”
She turned away again, snapping her head up to the ceiling and covering her mouth.
“Why are you doing this?” He said with anger, his arms wild with exasperation. “You sabotaged our chance at happiness eight years ago, why are you doing it again?”
She was tired of the raised voices. She flicked her head back to him and attempted to calm her manner. Her sudden stern features seemed to do something to him. He dropped his arms to his side and said no more, he merely looked at her with wide eyes and anticipation.
“I saw you in the park,” she said eventually, biting her lip after it. She watched, but his face did not change, he was looking at her with the same bewilderment. “The day before I broke off the engagement. I received a note.”
“Who from?” He prompted, his voice now as calm and as level as hers, though his was guarded too.
“I do not know. The sender did not leave a name,” she looked away from him, determined to make her escape once again, but this time much slower. She walked around the plants, so that there was something between the two of them. “The note said that if I truly wished to know the man that I would be marrying, I should go to Hyde Park at eight o’clock that evening.”
He clearly recollected the night. He winced and closed his eyes.
“I went to the park and I stood in the shadows, waiting to see what would happen,” she felt tears threaten to take hold of her. She blinked them away, looking at him, but refusing to succumb to the tears. She would not be weak in front of him. “Do you know, I stood there for many minutes, convinced that you would not show. I was certain it was a prank, that someone was trying to fool me into thinking ill of you. Then you appeared.”
He opened his eyes again, his sharp green stare pinned to her.
“You were having a secret meeting with another woman.”
“It is not what –”
“I never wanted to hear your excuses!” She held up her hands, refusing to let him speak. “Do me the courtesy of not thinking of me as such a fool. I know what I saw. I saw her face when you arrived – I know what love is well enough to see what she was thinking. She looked at you the same way that I looked at you.”
Her words made him flinch again.
“Then you put your arm around her. Her head was on your shoulder,” she shook her head, looking away from him. She had managed to push the tears away, but her anger was growing again. She breathed deeply, the breath was jittery, but it helped in order to control the rage she felt. “Such a sweet romantic position it was,” she scoffed at the idea, looking back to him. “I ran so quickly to get away. I could not bear to see what else would pass in your secret assignation.”
To her words, he recoiled. He covered his face with both hands for a moment, as though trying to block out both the sight of h
er and her words.
“Of course, I broke off the engagement.” She walked past him. Now her explanation was coming to an end, she had no wish to be in his company any longer. It would be the last that she saw him, now she had explained herself. “You broke my heart. That night made it perfectly clear to me that our betrothal meant nothing to you. I could not bear a life where I was so in love with the man I married whilst knowing he would always be carrying on with another.”
“Augusta, wait –” He looked up as she walked by him, following her.
“Then you married her. If there had been any doubts in my mind, that would have been the confirmation of it!” She cried as she reached the circle of palm trees again. “But a month later. Tell me, was it on the same day that we were supposed to marry?” She paused momentarily, looking back towards him.
In the Baron's Debt: Historical Regency Romance Page 12