You’ve lost her forever.
He had wondered, in the ballroom, if he had misunderstood Maura’s silent message to him when she had begged him not to carry out his revenge on the Worringtons. She had not been trying to protect Rowan or her reputation. Perhaps she had been begging him not to destroy what they had shared together.
She had offered him love, and pride and jealousy had caused him to reject it. He had not believed, or trusted, Maura enough to risk opening himself wholly to her. This evening he had severely punished her for the pieces of himself he had unwillingly surrendered to her, because she had tamed some of the wildness within him.
He had been vulnerable to her.
“Is Maura still at your house? I want to see her,” Everod appealed to Solitea, knowing he would fight all of them if they tried to keep him from seeing her.
“No!” Cadd shouted, his look scathing. “We came to prevent him from wiping out his clan or maiming some fool who wandered into him.”
“The night is early, Cadd,” Everod said, moving so their faces were inches apart. “One less fool in the world won’t trouble my sleep.”
Brawley stood. He seemed unaware of the tension around him. “It might not be wise, Everod. Miss Keighly was upset and the ladies—”
“There was talk of gelding you,” Ramscar added a little too cheerfully.
Everod visibly cringed. The thought of Maura wielding a knife was truly terrifying. “I have to see her tonight. The Worringtons and her family will never let me near her. I may never get another chance.”
A chance for what? To beg for her forgiveness? A chance to say farewell? A prideful man, Everod found neither option palatable, but he owed Maura something more than his cruelty.
Solitea must have pitied him when he noted the confusion and vulnerability he saw on Everod’s tortured visage. His friend had guessed he was in love with Maura Keighly before he had. Mayhap it was because the man had suffered his own trials with his duchess.
“We’ll take you to her,” Solitea said solemnly.
Realizing belatedly that there were three other ladies present, Rowan Lidsaw retreated behind a formal demeanor. He crossed the room to Kilby, and bowed. “Forgive my intrusion, Your Grace. It has been a difficult night for my family.” He shot a quick glance at Maura. “My cousin’s whereabouts were not known to us until I revisited the Kerstings, and learned a negligent footman had not delivered your message to my family.”
“Oh, you poor man,” Kilby said, taking him by the elbow and leading him into the drawing room. “Lord and Lady Worrington must have been overwrought. In our defense, we thought it best for our dear friend to depart the ball before Lord Everod decided to further abuse Maura’s good name.”
Rowan visibly relaxed at the duchess’s censorious tone when she spoke of the viscount. It had been brave of him to approach the household of one of his elder brother’s closest friends. He risked facing not only Everod, but les sauvages nobles en masse. From Rowan’s narrow perspective, the Soliteas’ town house was a veritable lion’s den.
“You are kind to welcome me into your house, Your Grace,” Rowan said, kissing the duchess’s hand. “My family is indebted to you and your friends for protecting my cousin from the cruelty of the ton.”
“Have you met my dear friends?” Kilby swiftly introduced Everod’s brother to Fayre and Patience.
“It is a pleasure, ladies,” Rowan said, his enthusiasm fading into regret. He turned to face Maura. “With your permission, Your Grace, I would like to speak with my cousin.”
“I would not presume to stand in your way, Mr. Lidsaw,” Kilby said, charmed by the young gentleman’s impeccable manners. “However, you should be aware that I have invited Maura to stay with us. If she agrees, then you will be returning to the Worringtons without her.”
“I can understand your reluctance to speak with anyone bearing the Lidsaw name, Cousin,” Rowan said, crouching down so he was eye level with Maura. “However, I have not come to judge you.”
“Come, ladies,” Kilby said, gesturing to her friends. “Maura and Mr. Lidsaw desire some privacy.”
Maura bit her lower lip to keep from laughing as she watched the trio move to the opposite side of the room. A blue Chinese vase in the corner seemed of some interest to the ladies. Maura was moved by their silent support. “You did not have to come for me, Rowan. I would have eventually returned home.”
“I would have come for you sooner.” He took her hand. “Initially, no one knew where to find you. Georgette thought you were hiding somewhere in the Kerstings’ house. A search commenced. Then Father began to weaken, and I thought it best to send them home. Besides, I wanted the opportunity to speak with you alone.”
He nodded at the ladies, who were pretending not to eavesdrop on the couple’s conversation. He smiled at Maura, amused at the duchess’s broad interpretation of the word privacy.
“What is there to be said?” Maura softly asked. “Your brother—”
Rowan scowled. “Everod has made things damn awkward between us. If you think I blame you for his callous actions, I do not,” he said, rushing his words as if he feared Maura would not allow him to finish his speech. “Georgette should have prepared you. My brother has a rather notorious reputation and has never lacked for lovers. He probably recalled your youthful affection for him, and sought to exploit your sweetness, your generous nature. What you did not understand was the resentment he holds against our family. Everod’s heart is ice. Revenge was his goal, when he whispered loving words in your ear.”
Rowan was the last person with whom Maura intended to discuss the details of Everod’s seduction. How could she explain that his brother had not seduced her with false promises? She had been drawn to Everod in an elemental way beyond her comprehension.
His soul simply called to hers. Or so it had seemed.
Everod had seemed to forget his quest for revenge against his family when he was with her. She had made him laugh, and there was compassion within him, though he loathed acknowledging it. Maura blamed herself for idealizing his carnal need for her. Everod might have lusted for her body, enjoyed her company, but his affection for her had not extended beyond sating his physical needs.
Maura stared at his gloved hand. “Though it might soothe my pride to charge your brother with villainy, I must confess that I went to him willingly. He used no lies to sway me.”
He was taken aback by her quiet admission. “Oh. I see.” Rowan visibly struggled to digest her words. “Do you love my brother?”
A single tear leaked from the corner of her right eye, and rolled down her cheek. Maura blinked rapidly to banish the rest that threatened to fall. “My feelings for Everod are complicated,” she hedged. “And I fear my reply will cause you to pity me.”
“Never,” Rowan said, using his thumb to wipe away the evidence of her tear. “Instead, I pity my brother for not appreciating the gift you had offered him.”
Her heart.
Straightening, Rowan did not release her hand. “I want you to come home with me.”
Maura mournfully shook her head in denial. “I cannot face your father and Aunt Georgette. Not yet. I have ruined everything.”
“No you haven’t,” he said, tugging on her hand, urging her to stand. “What Everod said this evening, what he did—it does not matter to me.”
One of the ladies gasped in surprise, but the sound had been so faint, Maura did not know its source.
Maura was unconvinced. No man forgave a betrayal so easily. Everod was proof of that. “You cannot mean that, Rowan.”
His expression turned indulgent. “Maura, nothing has been ruined. I have already told the family. I still want to marry you,” he said, cupping her face. His face was so earnest she could not help but believe he spoke the truth. “I love you, Maura Keighly. Is it possible that you could learn to love me?”
Rowan’s understanding was crumbling her hard-won composure.
He immediately sensed her torment. “You do not have to
give me an answer. You seemed so confused, and I wanted you to know my feelings. Just come home. My father and Georgette need to see for themselves that you are unharmed by Everod’s machinations.”
Maura nodded mutely. In spite of Rowan’s protests, she felt ashamed of her choices. Rowan Lidsaw was a good man. All along, her aunt had been correct. He would be a kind and decent husband to her.
Then why had she fallen in love with the wrong brother?
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Where is she?” Everod said, bursting into the drawing room unannounced. His four friends entered seconds behind him.
Lady Fayre had been reading a book. She yawned and blinked sleepily at him. “If you are referring to Miss Keighly, she has gone.”
“Everod, really,” Patience eluded as she stood to greet her husband. “You have devastated poor Maura. Do you think a clumsy apology will suffice?”
If he had been capable of it, he would have blushed. Everod had hoped Maura would have been satisfied with his apology.
“Which one of you put Everod up to this?” Kilby demanded, sitting up. She had fallen asleep while the ladies awaited their husbands’ return.
“No one. This was Everod’s brilliant stratagem,” Solitea replied, giving his wife a kiss on the nose. “Nodded off again, eh?”
His wife rubbed her eyes. “It is getting rather embarrassing. Did I miss anything?” she asked her friends.
“Nothing.” More alert, Lady Fayre gave Everod a shrewd look. “You might as well take another nap, Kilby. Lord Everod is not finished, and I doubt our husbands will abandon him.”
Something had happened. Lady Fayre was not bothering to disguise her satisfaction or her willingness to toy with him. “What makes you so certain, my lady?”
“Do you think we should tell him?” Patience asked.
“Tell me what?” Everod bit out each word, his frustration increasing with each passing second.
“Mr. Lidsaw came for Maura,” Lady Fayre said sweetly.
Ramscar frowned. “Forced?”
His wife replied, “Not at all. Mr. Lidsaw was a gentleman.”
Unlike him.
Whether Maura left willingly or was compelled by threats, Everod needed to see her.
Brawley noted Everod’s determined expression and cursed. “You think to confront Miss Keighly. At this hour?”
Everod snorted. He did not give a damn about the late hour. He had come to see Maura, and she had escaped him with Rowan’s help.
Never again.
“Oh, one more thing,” Kilby said, as Everod tried to walk out the door. “Your jealous tantrum at the Kerstings’ ball was for naught. Your brother still intends to marry Maura.”
Wordlessly, Everod walked out of the room.
Maura entered her aunt and uncle’s town house with trepidation in spite of Rowan’s assurances to the contrary. She was braced for disappointment and condemnation. What she did not expect was to find her aunt sobbing in the arms of an unknown gentleman.
Aunt Georgette lifted her cheek from the man’s shoulder, and stared at Maura and Rowan, her face a mask of absolute misery. It took her aunt a moment to recognize them.
“Oh, Maura!”
Stepping away from her companion, the older woman held open her arms as she strode toward her niece. Casting a worried glance at Rowan, Maura ran to her aunt and the ladies embraced.
“Pray forgive me, Aunt Georgette,” Maura murmured into her aunt’s hair. “I did not mean to worry you. I was so upset when I left the Kerstings’ ballroom. I needed to be alone.”
“I understood, Maura,” Georgette said, pulling away and holding out her hand to Rowan. “No, my darlings, I have grave news about Worrington.” As she squeezed Maura tightly, her aunt’s tear-ravaged gaze sought out and held her stepson’s. “As you both are aware, the earl has been recovering from an illness. His health was improving. So much so, he had insisted on attending the ball this evening. All of the excitement must have been too much for him. He collapsed in our bedchamber. I immediately summoned Dr. Burke—”
Rowan had heard enough. “Where is he?”
Aunt Georgette blinked. The question seemed to confuse her for a moment. “Upstairs. He is resting.”
Rowan released her aunt’s hand, and ran up the stairs. Dr. Burke, the gentleman who had been consoling Georgette when she and Rowan had entered the house, chased after Rowan. The physician was speaking rapidly, attempting to prepare the young man for the shock that was to come.
“Surely Worrington’s condition will improve,” Maura said, tilting her face up toward the empty upper landing where Rowan had disappeared. A door opened and closed in the distance.
Georgette covered her trembling lips, and briskly shook her head. Several minutes passed before she spoke again. “Dr. Burke thinks Worrington’s heart is failing him. Illness and old age are the likely culprits. Regardless of the cause, I am about to lose my husband, and I cannot bear it!”
Her humiliation this evening seemed trivial in comparison. Maura closed her eyes, thinking only of her uncle who lay dying upstairs. “What can I do? Should I get you something to eat, or tea?”
Her aunt rewarded Maura for her thoughtfulness by pressing a kiss on her cheek. “Nothing for me, my treasure. Worrington will want to see you. Earlier, he was asking for you and Rowan.”
What about Everod?
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask, but her uncle’s grave condition would not benefit from another upset. Clinging to each other, the pair climbed the stairs, not speaking until they reached the earl’s bedchamber.
Dr. Burke stood outside the room, giving Rowan a private moment with his father. “Lady Worrington, I must insist that your visits with the earl remain brief. Say or do nothing to upset him. If we are to see him through this, he must rest.”
“Of course, Dr. Burke,” Georgette said, bringing her handkerchief up to the corner of her right eye.
He gave her a fatherly smile. “I left some medicine on the table. Six hours hence, you may add a few drops of the tincture in some warmed wine. It will ease his discomfort.”
Georgette touched the physician’s hand. “Thank you. You have taken such good care of my husband.”
Dr. Burke patted her aunt’s hand. “Have someone summon me, if I can be of further service to you.”
Maura walked into the earl’s bedchamber while Georgette said farewell to the physician. Rowan had placed a chair beside his father’s bed. His head bowed, he held the earl’s hand.
Maura was startled by the transformation in the earl’s appearance. Gone was the rosy vitality and humor that she had witnessed earlier when they had traveled by coach to the ball. Worrington’s face looked ashen against the pillows, his mouth narrowed into a pained grimace. His free hand was curled like a claw as he reached for her.
“Maura,” he said, panting as if he could not draw in enough air to sate his lungs.
She rushed to his bed. “Uncle.” She clasped his hand, silently willing him to get better. “What happened? Are you in much pain?”
“A little,” the earl lied, and Maura kissed his hand. “I terrified your aunt when I collapsed. I think I hit my head.”
Worrington gritted his teeth as his entire body tightened as the pain tormenting him increased.
Concerned, Maura looked at Rowan. “You should not attempt to speak. Dr. Burke insists that you rest.”
“I will,” Worrington promised, settling back onto the mattress when the pain ebbed to tolerable levels. “Rowan. Maura. I have little time left.”
Rowan stirred in his chair. “No—”
“I’m dying,” the earl stated bluntly. “Burke tells me that my heart is worn out, and I trust the man to know his business.”
Tears clung to Maura’s lashes, blinding her. “You are stubborn, Uncle. You might prove Dr. Burke wrong.”
“I need to get my affairs in order. Georgette will summon my solicitor to the house in the morning.” Worrington released her and Rowan’s hands. Cur
ling his body away from her, he coughed violently into his hands.
Maura went to the small side table near the bed. On the surface were several small dark-colored glass bottles, a glass, and a pitcher filled with water. She filled the glass and brought it to him.
“Should I see if Dr. Burke has left the house?” she asked.
Georgette entered the room. “He has already departed.” Worried, she approached the bed. “What has happened?”
“Nothing, Wife. I am fine,” Worrington said, pushing the glass of water away after a few sips. “I was about to tell Rowan and Maura about what we discussed earlier.”
“What do you need, Father?” Rowan said, using his handkerchief to blot the sweat on the earl’s forehead and temples.
“Assurance,” Worrington whispered. “Rowan, I need you to promise me that your brother’s unfounded accusations toward Maura have not ruined your plans to marry her.” He gazed at his countess. “I want you and Maura settled.”
“Your concern is unnecessary, Father,” Rowan said, seizing Maura’s hand and pulling her to his side. “Maura has agreed to marry me.”
“Rowan!”
She had done no such thing. In the coach, Rowan had pledged his commitment to her, but she had not offered her consent. Her reluctance had hurt him, but he had agreed to give her more time.
“Now.” Worrington shuddered, struggling through another bout of pain. “If you leave now, you can be married in a few days. In Scotland.”
Run away to Gretna Green? Maura fought down the surge of panic that originated in her stomach. What little control she had on her destiny was just plucked from her hands.
“I cannot marry without my parents.” She stared helplessly at Rowan, begging him to understand.
Georgette placed her arm around her. “Your parents will understand. They have watched you and Rowan dance around each other for years. In my last letter to my sister, I alerted her that we would likely have some good tidings on their return from India.”
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