Callum frowned. He had been shutting himself away in his study for the entire day and night since the Rothwell family departed. He knew that he had been unfair to Harriet, who must be as upset and confused as he was himself. But he could notbring himself to talk to anyone. It was all he could do to keep his own thoughts locked up, unable to hurt him.
“What is it?” he asked gently. He gestured to the chair opposite. There was a teapot and some cups there. Perhaps she needed him to comfort her. He hoped he could find words.
“Callum, I need to tell you something,” Harriet said firmly.
“What is it?” Callum asked.
“I overheard something. It is something you have to know. James. Philippa. They planned this. It was all their idea. They did it on purpose. I don’t know why, but they did. You have to talk to them!”
Callum held up his hand. His head had been pounding all morning, and his sister’s words were confusing him and worsening his headache. “Wait, sister. What was their idea? What was their plan? What did you hear them saying?”
Harriet drew a breath. “Sorry. I just had to tell you. James and Philippa. They planned that you would see Miss Rothwell and James like you saw them. They planned that. They wanted you to think that James and she were...were in love,” she said uncomfortably.
“They planned it?” Callum’s heart soared. He clenched his fingers into fists, fighting against the fragile glimmer of hope. What if it was a lie? He couldn’t allow himself to believe something so wonderful, and yet so improbable, all at once.
“James and Philippa staged the embrace. They wanted you to believe that Miss Rothwell was in love with James. That was why Philippa knew to come and call you! Because they had planned it all along,” Harriet said urgently.
“Please calm yourself, sister,” he said gently. “Why would they do that? James was clearly interested in Miss Rothwell; I saw that from the day that he arrived. But what would it benefit them to stage something like that? No, I believe that he is in love with her and that she returns his affections.”
It was painful; it was horrible. But at least, if that was true, then he could feel noble by allowing her to have what she truly wanted. It was the last way he could think of saving himself from the pain.
“Wait! Listen,” Harriet said urgently, but there were footsteps in the hallway and their mother strode in.
“Callum! There you are,” his mother said briskly. “I was looking for you. Millicent was asking to speak with you, and I cannot deny her any longer. You have been moping around miserably for far too long now. Come and join the party. It’s the night before Christmas!” She gestured to the hallway.
Callum swallowed hard. “Mother,” he said carefully. “I am in no mood for company and I would make a terrible one myself, especially on a festive occasion. Please, let me remain here as I wish.” He gritted his teeth. He wanted to shout at her to leave him alone.
“Millicent is here, and I demand you speak to her,” his mother insisted. “You are doing yourself no favours by skulking away. And you have duties to do. This manor needs a duchess. And you have spent enough time ignoring the ideal person for the job.”
Callum drew a breath. He pushed back his chair and rose from it. His mother tensed. He cleared his throat.
“Mother,” he said in a tight, clipped tone. “I am miserable, as you yourself have pointed out. I am sunk into despair. My heart has been betrayed by someone who, treacherous and cruel though she may be, is also the woman I love. I cannot simply turn from that and develop affections for another to whom I feel indifferent.”
“Indifferent! To a young lady who is beautiful and accomplished, as well as your social equal?” his mother demanded. “It is not possible.”
Callum drew a breath, rage dispelling his pain. “Love does not work like that, Mother, and I believe you know that. Love cannot be called forth by social status, or wealth, or manners. It cannot be won by pretty conversation or fine looks. Love is something that grows between two people, a sharing of souls. It is not a reward; it is a gift. And it cannot be earned. It must be received.”
His mother gaped at him. She stared, eyes wide, as though he was speaking a foreign tongue, as though he expressed ideas that she could not understand. He continued.
“I love Miss Rothwell. I always shall. She might be treacherous, and deceitful, and Heaven knows what else. She is also kind, and loving, and gentle. She is amusing and witty and diverting. And she is herself. I can love no other as I love her. I shall love her all my life.” He turned away. “She rode away from this manor and took my heart with her, and I cannot give to another what I no longer have.”
There was no sound in the drawing room when he turned to face his mother and Harriet. They both stood silent. Harriet was gazing at him, eyes shining. His mother was looking at him with a shocked, hurt look.
“Son...you...” she began. Harriet interrupted.
“Callum! You have to listen to me! I heard them. Please. If you mean what you say, do something.”
Callum took a deep breath. He turned to Harriet, his heart aching. “What, Harriet?” he said caringly. “What must I do?”
“Confront James.” Harriet gestured to the hallway. “He was saying it when I walked past. At the lake. He was talking to Philippa at the lake’s edge. I was behind some trees. I had hurt my foot while skating, and I wanted some peace and quiet. I heard them. He said it all. He said how he had staged the embrace to make you think that Miss Rothwell was in love with him. They wanted you to think that, to hurt you.”
Callum gaped at her. “You truly heard that?” he demanded.
“I swear,” Harriet said firmly.
“Harriet, what are you saying?” their mother demanded. “You must be mistaken, or imagining things. You have not been well since they left. Mayhap the afternoon exertion was too much for you.”
“I did not imagine it!” Harriet protested. “I heard it. I swear I did. If you do not believe me, then confront him yourself. He said it. He really did.”
