by Liana Lefey
“I know not what prompted Lord Wincanton’s violent reaction, but whatever the circumstances leading up to the event, I think we can be assured of what will follow,” said Caroline with a mischievous smirk. “Any moment now, you’ll be summoned so that he may ask for your hand.”
Eleanor suppressed a sudden urge to run downstairs to find out if it was true. Guilt and excitement mingled, making her head throb as her heart began to gallop. She folded her shaking hands in her lap to prevent giving away just how anxious she was. “That would be most inconvenient,” she said, struggling to project outward detachment.
“Inconvenient?”
“Yes. Inconvenient. For I should be forced to refuse him.”
Caroline’s eyes widened. “Why? You love him, do you not?”
Stunned, Eleanor could formulate no reply to the blunt—and very accurate—assertion.
“I began to suspect the truth some time ago,” said Caroline, her blue eyes full of compassion. “But I was not certain until the night I discovered you crying. As one who has suffered a broken heart, I know another when I see it. By the bye, mine is mended.”
Eleanor looked askance at her. “The letter?”
Caroline nodded, her cheeks flaring with color. “It was an apology—a very good one. I’m no longer wroth with him. In fact, I’m quite ready to apologize for my part in our long misunderstanding and accept his offer of marriage. He plans to visit later this week to formally ask for my hand.”
“Oh, Caroline, I’m so pleased for you,” Eleanor said, setting aside her own troubles for a moment to hug her friend. It had been a long time coming, and she was truly glad to see it finally happen.
“Thank you—Ellie, I hope you won’t make the same mistake I did and assume the worst,” said Caroline, pulling back to look her in the eyes. “A broken heart is not something you’ll want to live with in perpetuity. I barely survived mine.”
Embarrassment loosened Eleanor’s tongue. “You may have come to an understanding with Lord Marston, but that does not make you an expert in all matters of love,” she retorted. “My heart is not broken!”
“Perhaps not yet entirely, but it is certainly beginning to crack,” her friend shot back. “And there is little point in denying the cause.” A wry smile curled her lips. “You’ve allowed very few gentlemen close enough to elicit such strong emotions.”
Eleanor’s determination crumbled, bringing both a sense of relief as well as great pain. The secret she’d held so close to her heart was finally a secret no more, but it made no difference. “If he asks for my hand, it will be because he feels it is the honorable thing to do. It won’t be because he wants me,” she said, mortified to find herself crying. Taking out a kerchief, she blotted her eyes. “I’m naught but a child to him—a sort of y-younger sister,” she said through her tears.
Caroline just stared at her with wide eyes. “Not to be vulgar,” she said slowly, “but he will eventually require an heir. So even if you are correct about his indifference, which I cannot help but doubt, I’m sure you’ll manage to convince him to do his duty. In fact, I might even venture to say he’ll be—”
A knock interrupted her, and the door opened to reveal Rowena. “Please excuse me, ladies, but I’m afraid this cannot wait. Eleanor, I need to speak with you privately. Now.”
Caroline rose and, casting Eleanor a final encouraging look that did nothing to lift her spirits, left the room.
Rowena came and sat down beside her. “I’d hoped to be the one to tell you, but I can see that Caroline has once again managed to beat me to the mark.”
Before she could stop herself, Eleanor burst into sobs. Rowena’s arms closed about her shoulders, and she surrendered, letting loose the flood she’d been holding back. When the worst of the tempest had passed, she pulled away, her eyes sore and her heart heavy.
“I thought you would be happy,” said Rowena, clearly taken aback.
Happy? How could she be happy knowing that Sorin would resent her for the rest of his life? A fresh wave of tears gushed forth.
“My dear child,” murmured Rowena. “I cannot tell you how sorry I am that it had to happen in this manner. I know this is hardly the way any woman wants to find out she is to marry, but the scandal will die down soon. And more importantly, you’ll be wed to a good man who truly cares for you.”
“I would rather remain unwed and suffer the scandal than be forced into a passionless union,” Eleanor blurted with a loud hiccup.
Rowena’s brow furrowed. “Passionless?”
“Yes, passionless. If he asks for my hand, I shall refuse him.”
“Eleanor! You cannot—”
“I can,” she insisted. “I have my inheritance. I’ll go somewhere far away and live quietly so as not to bring further shame on you and Charles, but I will not force my friend to marry someone he does not desire!”
Rising, Eleanor fled the room over Rowena’s fading protestations, unwilling to hear another word. She needed to compose herself and marshal her strength before seeing Sorin. Refusing him would be the most difficult challenge she’d ever face, but face it she must, and with as much dignity as she could muster.
Caroline’s room was mercifully vacant when she entered it. Going to the wash basin, she poured some water into the bowl and splashed her face. The mirror on the wall revealed her frightful state as she blotted herself dry and tried to pat her hair smooth. There was nothing to be done about her red, puffy eyes, but circumstances being what they were, she supposed tears wouldn’t be unexpected.
Still, it would upset Sorin to see her cry.
She stared at her reflection. “I will control myself,” she whispered to herself. “It’s only for a little while longer. For his sake. Just long enough to free him. Then I can fall apart at my leisure knowing I’ve done the right thing. I won’t let him sacrifice himself on the altar of my honor.”
But if I do, he’ll be mine, the wicked part of her replied.
Sorin did care for her, after all—enough to make him defend her good name at the risk of matrimonial imprisonment. Many marriages were founded on far less, and she would do her best to make him happy. But would it be enough to justify such a selfish act? What if after marrying her he met another Jane? He’d regret his decision and resent her for having trapped him. That he would break his vows was not a concern. The Sorin she knew would never do such a thing. But he might want to, and then he wouldn’t be the Sorin she knew anymore. Could she do that to him?
But he would be mine…
Caroline’s words echoed in her mind. He did have a duty to fulfill. He might not want to consummate the marriage at first, but time would be on her side. And there were ways to persuade even the most reluctant man. Perhaps—provided he met no one else—he might in time come to desire her.
Both paths beckoned. One altruistic, the other, anything but. Both were paved with liberal amounts of dishonesty. Until she chose which to take, she would exist in an unbearable state of limbo.
Leaving Caroline’s room, she made her way to the stairs. Each step felt like a little death, an incremental descent into Hades as she made her slow way down. Pausing outside the door of the salon, she gathered her courage.
This is it.
She opened the door to find both Charles and Sorin waiting for her. Her cousin’s face was inscrutable, but Sorin’s…he looked haggard, as though he’d not slept in days, and there was a nasty bruise along his jaw. Her heart ached at the sight. This was all her fault. If she’d just been clear with Yarborough in the beginning, he would never have pursued her and Sorin would never have felt obligated to defend her.
Both men stood as she entered. She dipped a dutiful curtsy and waited, her heart in her throat, as Sorin bowed.
“Eleanor, Lord Wincanton has requested to speak with you privately,” said Charles, his manner frighteningly formal. “I’ll be waiting in the library.”
Her heart raced as the door shut with a muted click behind him. All the careful words she’d been rehear
sing jumbled together on the tip of her tongue and remained there, unable to escape, as Sorin came to stand before her.
“I’m sure Rowena has made you aware of what transpired last night,” he said quietly.
Though her informant had in fact been Caroline, Eleanor nodded.
“Firstly, know that it was only because of my high regard and long affection for you that I acted in such a manner,” he continued, his deep voice rougher than she’d ever heard it, save in her dreams. “Yarborough’s words angered me such that I was drawn beyond the point of considering the consequences you would have to bear for my reaction to them. Please forgive me.”
“There is nothing to forgive,” she said, finding her voice. Silently, she cursed the tears that began to cloud her vision. “By coming to my defense, you did what any true friend would have done.”
He shook his head. “No. Were I a true friend, I would have answered his lies with words rather than brute violence, thereby accomplishing the revelation of truth without condemning you. Instead, I let my heart and my temper overrule all good sense.” He looked down. “I struck him because it was what I wanted. It was purely selfish of me, and now there is only one way to prevent your ruination.”
The blood began to whoosh in her ears. “I beg you not to say another word!” she burst out. “If you care for me at all, you will leave this instant and let the matter play out as it will without interfering—I will not allow you to be punished for defending me!”
“Punished?” He let out a cracked laugh. “If anyone is to suffer for my impetuous behavior, it is you, not I.”
It was both dream and nightmare as he reached into his pocket, pulled out a small gilt box, and dropped to one knee before her. “Eleanor,” he said softly. “I love you—I have for quite some time now. Will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”
Tears ran unchecked down her face, and a great sob lodged in her throat. She clapped a hand over her mouth to prevent its escape. The temptation was so great! All she had to do was say ‘yes’ and she’d have everything she wanted.
Except for his heart. He might have said the words, but she knew they could not be true. Already I have corrupted him, caused him to lie on my behalf.
After a moment, she took a deep breath and forced the dreaded words she’d rehearsed past trembling lips. “It is with regret that I must refuse your very kind offer.” She closed her watering eyes and made herself speak the rest before he could object. “You care for me—I know this—but it’s not enough. I cannot allow you to marry me out of some misplaced sense of honor or obligation. Not when you might still marry someone who can truly make you happy as I know I cannot.” Someone like your Jane. She swallowed another sob. “I won’t rob you of that joy.”
“Eleanor, look at me.”
The command was not to be refused, especially when she felt the warm touch of his fingers beneath her chin. She opened her eyes and looked down into his luminous hazel ones, expecting to see relief. Instead, there was a look of such hurt in them that it stole her breath.
“I’ve been dishonest with you for so long,” he said after what seemed an eternity. “Like a coward, I hid my true feelings from you, afraid of how you might react. But no more.”
For an instant, wild hope flared in her breast. But it was quickly snuffed out. “You would say anything to persuade me, to protect me. But I’m not a child to be protected anymore, and I will not be persuaded in this. I release you from any obligation to me, real or imagined.” She turned to leave but his hand shot out to clasp her wrist, holding her in place.
“It’s not an obligation!” he insisted, pulling her back. Taking her hand, he pressed the little box into her palm. “Open it,” he demanded gruffly.
The box’s hard edges pressed into her flesh as she stood there, her throat too tight to speak. Opening it was the last thing she wanted to do. To see the symbol of what might have been could, and probably would, break her will to refuse him.
“Eleanor, please,” he urged gently. “Just look at it—and then I promise I’ll ask nothing more of you unless you wish it.” He released her, leaving behind an invisible, tingling imprint on her skin.
With trembling fingers, she did as he bade and opened the lid. Inside on a nest of freshly picked scarlet rose petals lay a sparkling diamond ring. She frowned. It looked strangely familiar, but it couldn’t be. Instead of diamonds, there were tiny blood-red rubies encircling the central stone. “This cannot be the…”
“It is,” he cut in. “Read the inscription.”
Picking it from amongst the fragrant petals, she brought it close and peered at the tiny words carved inside the golden circle. “The truest love begins in friendship,” she read aloud, her voice breaking on the last word.
“Were you to put it on, I believe you would find it a perfect fit,” he said, bringing his hands up to cup hers. “The proprietor assured me he could gauge a woman’s ring size with a single glance.”
Though she’d not tried it on at the time, Eleanor knew that in addition to the added rubies, this ring had been several sizes too large and there had been no inscription. Realization slowly dawned. “But—that was nearly two months ago,” she whispered in astonishment, her gaze rising to meet his as he stood.
“I went back the next day and commissioned the work, replacing the outer stones and having it resized and engraved in the hope that you would one day wear it as my wife. You, Eleanor. No one else.”
Her knees began to shake so that she felt they might give way beneath her.
“It’s time you knew the truth,” he murmured, his warm fingers stroking hers. “That day I scolded you so assiduously for being too familiar—I did it because I was terrified. My reaction to your embrace was…” He paused, his Adam’s apple bobbing, his cheeks awash with sudden color. “You must understand that I had no warning and no control. In that instant, the affection I’d borne for you since we first met began to transform into something I knew you did not—and thought that you probably never would—reciprocate. I could not bear the thought of losing your friendship and trust because of my shameful desire.”
She knew her mouth was hanging open and didn’t care. It all made sense now. The way he’d subsequently avoided her—or whenever he had been with her, the way he’d behaved with such sternness, always correcting, always criticizing. He’d done it all to distance himself and keep her unaware of his true feelings for her. “That’s why you left!”
A wry smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “Yes. That, and the fact that I could not endure the torment of watching you fall in love with and marry someone else, as I thought must surely happen. But running away did no good at all. You followed me with your letters and kept the wound fresh, so to speak. Your heart was in them, and though distance prevented me from exposing myself, it did nothing to stop my love for you growing ever deeper. When I finally returned home and you were yet unwed, I thought I would go mad. It is only because of my mother and good friends that I began to consider trying to find a way to make you see me differently.”
The irony of his admission nearly made her laugh aloud. They’d both been scheming and plotting to change each other’s perception, all the while never guessing their work had already been done.
Taking her hand and easing the ring from between her fingers, he again knelt. “I offer you not only my name, Eleanor, but my heart and my absolute devotion. It is my greatest hope that one day you will return my affection, and I’ll gladly spend the rest of my life in pursuit of that end. Please say that you will marry me.”
If a heart could burst from happiness, then hers was surely in danger of doing so now. “I will,” she finally choked out. “But you should know that you are not the only one to have kept a secret. I’ve been just as guilty as you in that regard.” Laughter broke through her tears at his puzzled expression. “We’ve been so at odds, neither of us knowing the other’s heart for fear of revealing our own! But never again.”
Reaching out, she caressed his
face. “I was so accustomed to loving you that I failed to even notice how that love had changed. I think now that I began to realize you were the only man I could ever marry the day you questioned my ‘high standards’.” She moved closer and whispered, “You are not just the example of what I should want in a husband—you are the husband I’ve always wanted.”
A fire kindled in his hazel eyes. With utmost tenderness, he took her hand, kissed it, and then slid the ring onto her third finger. “Then I am yours.” Standing, he took her in his arms.
“I have dreamed of this moment,” she said happily, stroking the back of his neck as he brought her close.
Stiffening suddenly, he drew back.
“What is it? What is wrong?” she asked, fear creeping back into her heart.
“Eleanor, I have another confession to make, one I cannot withhold from you though it will likely forever darken your view of me.” His face and neck reddened. “The night Yarborough drugged you, when I took you home…I’m afraid I took liberties no gentleman sh—”
“It was not a dream!” she blurted, certain now that what she’d thought was wishful thinking had in fact been quite real. “You kissed me!” She hadn’t meant it to sound accusatory, but such was her shock that he had behaved in so bold a manner that it couldn’t be helped.
One corner of his mouth twitched. “Actually, you kissed me first.”
Now it was her turn to blush. Apparently, her concerns about having acted inappropriately with him had been quite valid. “I—you—I did?”
“You really don’t remember?”
She didn’t remember how it all started, but she did know there had been a good deal more than just kissing. He’d touched her in ways no gentleman should ever touch a lady outside the marriage bed. Her cheeks stung, and she knew her entire face must be awash with color.
So much for the proprieties—and after all his lecturing! Despite her outrage, a delicious shiver rippled across her skin as she recalled that night, her wantonness, and his desire.