Page 71 of Regency Whispers: Scandalous Matches

‘Her reputation,’ Western corrected softly. ‘Not necessarily her life.’

‘She will become a pariah in social circles.’

‘But from what you’ve told me she doesn’t sound the sort to really care.’

‘Even some of her friends will turn her away.’

‘Not true friends.’

Taking a few deep breaths to steady his hand, Tom aimed again, cursing when the shot went wide. Lowering the pistol, he considered Western’s words and realised his friend was right. All this time Tom had been treating her like an ordinary young woman, a normal debutante, but Jane was nothing of the sort. She was fiercely independent and knew what she wanted from her future.

She might not be welcome in polite circles in London with a ruined reputation, but he didn’t doubt her family would welcome her back. Jane had always spoken fondly of them, even if she was lost a little in amongst so many children. She had somewhere to go and, with the likelihood that Mr Hambly was going to publish her books, she had something that would occupy her time and hopefully bring her an income.

‘She doesn’t have to marry me,’ he murmured. All this time he had assumed she needed him, that the only way for her to survive this was to marry him. It had meant he hadn’t really thought about what was best for her.

Tom felt a coldness spread through him as he realised he had probably lost her for good.

‘I don’t want to lose her,’ he said quietly.

‘Why?’ Western asked, the question sounding harsh. ‘You only want to marry her to give Edward a mother figure.’

Tom knew his friend was deliberately provoking him, but he couldn’t help but react all the same.

‘That’s not true.’

‘Do you want to marry her?’

Tom didn’t speak for a long moment, allowing the memories of the last few weeks to flood into his mind.

‘Yes.’

‘Why do you want to marry her?’

‘I love her.’ He blinked, surprising himself at the answer. Western clapped him on the back, throwing his head back and giving out a whoop of joy.

‘In all the years that I’ve known you, nothing has been so hard as getting you to confess that.’

‘I love her,’ Tom repeated, realising it was true. He loved the way she smiled and the way she was always so direct. He loved the sparkle she got in her eyes when she wanted to be kissed and the enthusiastic way she tried anything new. He loved that she didn’t care what people thought of her, forging her own path, even if people stared and whispered.

Shaking his head, he knew this realisation didn’t solve all his problems.

‘That only makes things worse,’ he said quietly.

Western regarded him for a long time and then turned away to take his shot.

‘You’ve never put into words what it is that stops you from allowing yourself to be happy,’ he said quietly. ‘But you do not fool me with this carefree act of yours. You have too big a heart to keep it locked away, pretending that you would rather have purely superficial relationships.’

Tom opened his mouth to make a flippant remark but nothing would come out. He thought of all the years keeping people at arm’s length. Western was the only one who truly knew him and that was because they’d been through hell on the battlefield together. No one else had come close in his adult life, and Tom knew that was because he was an expert at knowing the exact moment to step away.

Until Jane. Somehow she had slipped under his defences, she had clung on when he had attempted to keep his distance and their friendship had bloomed alongside the desire that burned between them.

‘You don’t have to tell me,’ Western said, lining up another shot and smiling in satisfaction as the penultimate plate broke a second after the pistol shot rang out. ‘But ask yourself if it is truly worth your happiness. Sometimes the ideas we create in our youth, we hang on to for far too long.’

He handed Tom the pistol with the final shot and took a step back. With his thoughts racing, Tom took his position, knowing if he didn’t concentrate the shot would go wide again. He cleared his mind, pushing all the irrelevant noise to one side, and aimed, pulling the trigger with one lone thought left in his head: I love her.

The plate shattered and Tom felt a momentary thrill of triumph. Western took the pistol from him and went to start clearing up the shards of pottery from their makeshift targets.

Tom sat down, half-collapsing to the ground. He looked up at the clear sky above, trying to find answers that weren’t there.