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William said nothing for a moment. Then he leaned closer, his brows furrowing slightly. His woodsy smell wafted over to her and Elizabeth was almost positive he could hear her pounding heart. “Because your betrothal to the Earl of Horenwall was announced,” he said simply.
Elizabeth’s heart skipped a beat. For a second, she couldn’t think of a single thing to say, a blush of embarrassment creeping across her cheeks at having been caught like this. “I…I did not think you would know that. I didn’t think you cared to read the announcements?”
“It is simple common sense to read the Times,” William stated. “So tell me, Beth. Why do you remain here when you have a gentleman waiting to be married to you?”
She avoided his eyes, her throat constricting. Her shame threatened to swallow her whole, so poignant that she didn’t know how she managed to speak next.
“The betrothal was against my will. Father…he’s decided he will no longer tolerate my behavior towards getting married and has decided to take matters into his own hands. Even when I told him my concerns, he would not listen to me.”
“I am quite surprised, Beth.” There was actual astonishment in his voice, however slight. “I never knew you to be one to back away from a challenge. Or to run away like this. So, you do not wish to be married at all and have come here to escape that?”
That is because I am not the lady you once knew. And you are not the gentleman I once loved, either. It appears the years had changed us both.
She looked up at him, and her chest constricted when she saw just how close he’d drawn to her. “It is part of the reason I left, I will admit. Is that so surprising?”’
“If you are not jesting, then I might think you are rightfully insane,” he mumbled, leaning back.
“I might be, considering I could not forget about you no matter how much time passed.”
“Because you cannot let go of the past.”
“No,” she shot back, her tone soft. “Because you were too selfish to give me a reason for your leaving.”
“I did not have to give you anything.”
“You did not—” Elizabeth broke off, that unfamiliar taste of anger on her tongue. Now, even though William was so attractive while he reclined back in his seat and ate with such a calm countenance, it spurred on her rage. “You did not have to give me anything? How can you say that to me?”
“It has been seven years, Beth,” he maintained. His eyes hardened, even though he didn’t pause his eating. “After one year, I would understand this level of conviction. Perhaps even after two years, had you remained alone and had been courted by no one. But after seven years, Beth, and seeking me out like this can only lead me to believe that you have grown obsessed.”
The words lanced her painfully. Elizabeth couldn’t do anything but stare at him, gaping at him as if she couldn’t believe that he’d just said such a thing. Her body went hot, rage rendering her speechless for a few moments. Elizabeth didn’t know what to do with the feeling. She’d so long been without it, never driven to the brink like William had just done, and now she was left wholly unprepared.
“Have I offended you, Beth?” William asked as if nothing were amiss. His eyes never left her face for a second.
Slowly, she pulled the glove from her left hand, knowing that the scar on her upper arm was on the right side rather than the left. With controlled patience, she folded the glove and laid it on the table. Then she raised her hand so that he could see the scars that laid across her knuckles.
Her chest constricted even as she did the act. Every inch of her body wanted to run from this room, to give in to the tears she could feel burning the back of her throat, Elizabeth forced herself to stay in place. She kept her eyes on his face, watching how still he’d become. His eyes were glued to her hand.
The scars across her knuckles were the least severe amongst them all. As such, it hadn’t healed as badly as the others had. A few of the scratches were raised slightly, while the others were flat, marked by a simple silver line. Even so, they were not the sort of things you would see on the hands of a lady.
“Five years ago, I was robbed,” she began. Her voice cracked and it took all she had not to hide her scarred hand from his sight. She needed him to know this, to at least understand. “It was a simple ruffian, a man who noticed I was a lady and wanted all my valuables. I’d been more than willing to give him all that I had, even though my lady’s maid was quite against it.”
