by Amy Sandas
She tried to steady her breath, tried to soak up warmth from the bedcovers to ease the ice in her blood. But she kept getting caught on involuntary sobs, and she was quite certain she would never be warm again.
Though the earl had spoken of his affliction in a monotone, devoid of emotion, his pain had been evident in his rigid stance and in everything left unsaid. She sensed the helplessness he could not admit to still carrying with him. Her very bones ached for how he had suffered.
His expression had been merciless when he had strode past her and out the door. She would have given anything in that moment for the freedom to reach out to him, to wrap her arms around him to keep him from leaving, so she could hold him to her breast until her love soothed away every lingering hurt.
But she couldn’t. All she had been able to do was stand there with her hands clasped together so tightly her knuckles became bruised while her heart shattered.
He had refused her love. For all the trust she had put in him, he had not been able to trust her in return.
Understanding that was the most painful part. She believed everything she had said to him. She knew in her heart there existed a possibility for something amazing. But he needed to believe as well.
And hours later, she still lay huddled beneath her blankets. Dawn had long ago lightened her bedroom when a downstairs maid, the same who had delivered her perfume weeks ago, brought up a note.
Lily had not wanted to take it. Had not wanted to read the words she knew she would find in Avenell’s strong, slanted script. But she also knew she would never accept the truth unless she saw it written out for her in his stark language.
Though our arrangement has come to an end, the money in your account will remain available to you as long as you need it. I am sorry.
She had hated him in that moment. Hated him with a fire that spread through her belly.
But it was a reactionary emotion and did not last. Eventually, she turned her anger back on herself.
Surely, there had to be something she could have done differently, something she should have done to inspire his trust. His affection.
His note was so final. So detached. Except for those last words, and she clung to those words like a fragile lifeline.
He was sorry.
For what, she wondered. Sorry for all of it? Sorry he couldn’t accept her love? Or sorry he had ever opened her up to the dream of what could have existed between them?
Everything in her rejected his claim that the only thing between them was lust and that their affair had simply run its course. Down in the depths of her marrow, she knew he was still holding something back.
She wanted so badly to return to him and beg him to take from her whatever he needed. If he felt only lust for her, then so be it. Her body, her love, and her passion were his, would always be his. She wanted that to be enough.
Very simply, it wasn’t.
Not for him.
It was not enough for her either.
She squeezed her eyes shut in the quiet of her bedroom, trying to hold back the tears as she swallowed hard on the lump in her throat. Her heart was empty. The deep, hollow aching inside her had never been so gaping, so dark and relentless.
As painful as it was, she had to accept the truth.
Lily wanted more than to be his mistress, a woman who eased his lust but was not allowed to soothe his soul.
She deserved more.
And so, despite her heartache, she lay still and unmoving, wondering how she would go through that day, and the next, and the next, without him.
“Lily?”
The sound of Portia’s voice pushed into Lily’s awareness. She closed her eyes, craving solitude.
“Lily,” her sister stated more firmly as she approached the bed.
Portia was not likely to go away until she accomplished what she was there for. Lily opened her eyes with a scowl.
“What do you want, Portia? I am trying to sleep.”
Portia had come around to the side of the bed. She looked at Lily with an arched black brow as she planted her hands on her hips. “It is already past noon. You have never slept this late in your life. And you look horrid.”
“I feel horrid.” Lily emphasized her words by pulling the blankets over her head.
“What happened last night, Lily?” Portia’s tone lowered empathetically. “I saw how distraught you were when you came back to the ballroom. I know it was not a sudden migraine that sent you home early. Please tell me. Perhaps I can help.”
Lily wished she could open the floodgates and confess all to her sister. But she couldn’t. It was still too raw, too deep.
“I am sorry, Portia. I just need to be alone. Please leave me be.”
“I cannot,” Portia replied.
She took hold of the bedcover and lifted it enough to slip in beside Lily before she drew it back over both their heads, enveloping them in a makeshift sanctuary.
The sisters lay facing each other under the privacy of the bedcovers.
“A caller has arrived for you,” Portia said. “You must make an appearance downstairs.”
“A caller?” Lily groaned. She could not imagine speaking with anyone today, or ever again.
“He is currently being entertained by Angelique, Emma, and Mr. Bentley, so you have a little time to ready yourself, but not much.”
“Mr. Bentley?” That managed to prick Lily’s curiosity.
Portia grinned a particularly naughty little grin. “In leaving early last night, you missed the delightful scandal that erupted, involving our very responsible and decorous sister.”
“What happened?” Lily asked, grateful for the opportunity to be distracted from her despair. It suddenly felt dreadfully important that Emma managed to claim her happiness.
“I shall not tell you just now, but I do believe Mr. Bentley spent last night in Emma’s bedroom.”
Lily gasped. “You must be joking.”
“They might have gotten away with no one becoming aware of it, but I happened to be awake to witness Emma sneaking the poor man out of the house just after dawn. He must have gone home to change clothes, then came right back again to join us for breakfast. Angelique is thrilled by his handsome company, as you can imagine.” Portia laughed. “And you will not believe the change in Emma this morning. It is quite astonishing.”
“Astonishing,” Lily breathed.
“Now,” Portia said sternly, her expression shifting to one of concern and determination. “It is time for you to get out of bed and join us. Mr. Campbell is anxiously awaiting your appearance.”
Mr. Campbell.
“Oh no,” Lily whispered as she recalled the bits of conversation they had had while dancing the night before. Something about him coming to call and wanting both Emma and Angelique to be present. Oh God! He was going to make an offer.
“Yes, I can see you understand,” Portia said as she flipped back the covers, exposing them both. “Up with you, dear sister, your suitor awaits.”
Though Lily did not move, she acknowledged that she would need to do as Portia had said. She would have to face Mr. Campbell and find some way to let the sweet man down nicely. She had no desire to hurt him, but she could not accept an offer from him.
She could not accept an offer from anyone.
Portia leaned forward again, drawing Lily’s gaze. The younger woman’s eyes held a wealth of empathy and reflected a maturity Lily had not witnessed in her sister before.
“I understand,” Portia whispered. “You will need to put things to rights soon enough, but first you must deal with Mr. Campbell. Then you can focus on…the other.”
Lily scowled in confusion. The gleam in Portia’s eyes seemed far too knowing just then.
She couldn’t possibly…
“Now, up,” Portia said as she rolled gracefully to her feet. “I shal
l advise your dear Mr. Campbell that you will be down shortly. I would wager you have about twenty minutes before your delay will be perceived as quite rude.”
If not for having had the night she just did, Lily would have considered her interview with Mr. Campbell to be the most difficult thing she would ever have to endure. Still, it was likely to be challenging in the extreme. Mainly because he was such a kind man and did not deserve the rejection Lily needed to deliver. If only she had been more aware, more thoughtful in her interactions with him, she might have found a way to dissuade him before it got to this point.
But she had been distracted in the last weeks. As was evidenced even more by the sight of Emma wearing a smile the likes of which Lily had never witnessed. Her older sister was nothing less than ecstatic, sitting beside a very relaxed and pleased-looking Mr. Bentley.
Lily expected Emma would have news of upcoming nuptials to impart to the family once their caller departed. The thought helped to put a smile on Lily’s face as she greeted her suitor.
“A pleasure to see you, Mr. Campbell.”
The older gentleman took her hand and bowed low.
Lily took a seat, and they all recommenced with small talk, but Lily could tell by Angelique’s animated expression and Emma’s speculative glances that Mr. Campbell may have already indicated to them the purpose of his visit. The mood in the room was far too anticipatory. Lily wished Portia had come down to the parlor with her. Her younger sister’s exuberance surely would have added some needed distraction just then.
Lily’s palms began to sweat. She really did not relish the idea of issuing a rejection.
But she could do nothing else.
Mr. Campbell turned to her with a smile. “Miss Lily, if you do not mind, I wonder if you would allow me a private moment of your time?”
Lily smiled in return, though her ears grew hot and her tongue sat thick in her mouth. “Of course, Mr. Campbell. That is, if my great-aunt does not object.”
She turned to Angelique, who rose to her feet rather quickly. “Not at all, darling. Take all the time you need,” she said with a grin before sashaying from the room.
Mr. Bentley offered his hand to Emma, who took it so naturally it was obvious how physically attuned the two were to each other. The sight was painful and beautiful at once.
Emma looked at her with a studied gaze as she said, “We shall be just a few minutes.”
Lily nodded and watched as they left the room. Emma drew the door closed behind them, allowing at least a four-inch gap for the sake of propriety.
Lily had no idea what she was going to say and prayed the right words would come as needed. She dreaded such confrontations, and the subtle throbbing in her head started to make itself more known.
Mr. Campbell turned toward her on the sofa they shared and cleared his throat. His smile was easy, and his brown eyes met hers with open affection.
Lily felt a deep pulse of awareness for how different things could have turned out. If she had never spied Avenell across the ballroom… If she had never been abducted and taken to Pendragon’s… If her father had never seen fit to take a loan from Hale…
So many ifs, yet one thing was certain—Lily’s heart was inexorably claimed, whether the man who held it wanted it or not. She could not fathom promising herself to anyone when she had so fully given herself to another.
“Miss Chadwick, you must know I hold you in very high regard,” Mr. Campbell was saying. “It has been a delight to count you as an acquaintance. As I mentioned last evening, I am very pleased by the way our friendship has developed over the course of this Season.”
He paused then with a lifted brow, as though waiting for Lily’s acknowledgment.
She nodded and took a breath to interrupt, but he continued, his words flowing as though they had been diligently rehearsed.
“I do not believe my purpose in calling on you today is likely to be much of a surprise.”
“Mr. Campbell,” Lily said, finally finding her voice.
“I have come to the conclusion that I am of an age when it is most appropriate for me to take a wife.”
“Mr. Campbell,” Lily said again, but he seemed not to hear her. She pressed her fingers to her temples as her headache became more pronounced.
“I have had in mind someone of demure and polite temperament. A lady with a moderate degree of prettiness who is also in possession of adequate intelligence so as to contribute to engaging conversation.”
“Mr. Campbell, please allow me—”
“It was important that I find someone with the same mild nature as myself. I have no desire for theatrics or unnecessary passions in a life mate.” He gave her a pleasant smile. “As I am sure you would agree, such things are tiresome.”
Lily shook her head. What an awful match they would have made.
“Please, Mr. Campbell, I would ask that you go no further.”
“But I must, my dear. You see, it would be my greatest pleasure if you would consider honoring me by accepting a position as my wife.”
Lily clenched her teeth against the pounding in her skull. It had been said. He had offered for her hand. Now she had to turn him down in as delicate a way as she could manage.
“Mr. Campbell, I am quite flattered by your offer, but I am afraid I cannot accept it.”
The poor man stared at her for a moment as though he wasn’t certain he had heard her right. Then he blinked a few times.
“I do not understand. I was under the impression that you would welcome such a suit.” His tone was filled with confusion and injured pride. “I assure you, I do not make my offer lightly.”
“I am sorry, Mr. Campbell. It is difficult to explain.”
“Perhaps you just need some time,” he suggested. “I would be agreeable to a long engagement. There is no need to rush.”
Lily shifted uncomfortably. This was proving to be more difficult than she had imagined. She did not want to hurt the man, but she could not accept him.
“Have I done something in particular to dissuade you?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No, please, it is not you, Mr. Campbell. It is just that…” Her tongue became hopelessly tangled.
“Is there something more I can offer you?”
“No, I—” She closed her eyes for a moment, but it only intensified the pain in her head.
“I would have thought my offer generous enough, considering your lack of dowry and your family’s limited prospects. You should be grateful I considered you for such an important position,” he declared before his expression turned disapproving. “This reticence is quite unattractive.”
Lily had had enough. Her head felt like it intended to split in two, and her eyes had started to burn with the pain of it. She finally said the only words she knew would conclude the discussion immediately. “I am no maiden.”
Oh no! Shock momentarily distracted her from the pounding in her head. What had she just said?
Campbell’s eyes widened. He gave a short cough.
Lily had just a moment to acknowledge how much Portia would have loved to witness such a scene of collapsed etiquette before her ears burned red with embarrassment and she stumbled on in explanation.
“I am deeply sorry, Mr. Campbell, to confess something so indelicate and…shocking. It is just that I do value your friendship, and I think you are a wonderful man.” Though his response to her refusal was starting to make her question that opinion. “I would not want you to believe my refusal of your generous proposal has anything to do with you when it is, in fact, due to my own actions.”
He rose to his feet as she spoke and walked slowly around the sofa, as though taking some time to absorb what she had said. Lily waited with outward patience while inside, her nerves ran riotously. When he turned back to face her, she did her best not to cringe at the denunciation in his expression.
&n
bsp; “Miss Chadwick, I admit I am rather taken aback by your confession.” He grasped his hands behind his back and lifted his chin. “I had not expected you to reveal such a colossal moral failure. You disguise your perfidy well.”
His words were meant to shame her, but Lily found herself growing angry instead. That a woman could be so swiftly and completely condemned for a behavior that men accepted as their right grated on her raw nerves.
“Mr. Campbell,” she began, but stopped as she realized that defending herself would only succeed in exacerbating the situation. “I apologize for any distress or inconvenience I have caused you.”
He acknowledged her apology with a nod. “I suppose I should be grateful for your honesty on the matter. Indeed, I shall count myself lucky. You may rest assured that I shall not spread tales of your sordid behavior. Such would be beneath me. Please do not bother to see me out.” He offered an abbreviated bow before he turned and left without another word.
“Well, that was wretched,” Lily muttered beneath her breath before she fell back against the couch and pressed her eyes closed against the burning behind her lids. Her headache was almost welcome in that moment, as it distracted from the pain in her heart.
At least it was over. Mr. Campbell would likely never speak to her again. She had never suspected him of being such a prude.
Moral failure.
Avenell had not considered her passion to be a moral failure.
Yet he too had walked away from her without a good-bye.
Twenty-seven
“There is a woman here to see you, my lord.”
The Earl of Harte did not bother to glance up from the dying coals glowing in the grate. His snuffbox rolled through his fingers in a constant pattern. In his other hand was a glass of warmed brandy—his second of the night. He had spent every night for more than a week in the comfortable shadows of his private study.
Though Keene’s deportment was never anything but impeccably stoic, he heard the hint of censure in the way his butler said woman.
“I have no desire for company, Keene. Whoever it is, send her away.”