He smirked, a glint in his eyes. “It was a most pleasant surprise to see you win. Though I cannot say I am surprised. Your charm is as effective as it is enchanting.”
Elspeth’s stomach churned. She had no time for his brand of flattery. Not now, not ever.
“I thank ye for yer kind words.”
She turned her back to him, scanning the room for Hugo, even though she knew he was not there. The image of him, his face a mask of stone, flashed through her mind.
“I will never fall in love, you see.”
His words echoed in the empty space where her heart used to be.
Verity and Marion found her then, gently pulling her away from Lord Middleby.
“Elspeth, what is it?” Marion whispered, her hand resting on Elspeth’s arm. “You have won! Why are ye nae celebratin’?”
Elspeth shook her head, unable to put her feelings into words.
How can I explain that the victory feels like defeat? That the applause is a cruel reminder of what I had lost, without him here to see it?
“I am so tired,” she mumbled with a forced smile. “Just tired.”
Verity’s face softened with sympathy, as if she could sense she was unable to talk. “Oh, Elspeth. Let us get you out of here. The party is almost over, and the servants will see to the rest.”
Elspeth nodded, the thought of escaping this suffocating room the only thing that held her together.
She placed the heavy award on a nearby table, no longer able to bear its weight. She had won the competition, but what was the point of securing a victory if she had no one to share it with?
As they made their way through the crowd, she caught sight of herself in the large, gilded mirror in the foyer. She looked like a mess. Her smile was gone, her eyes red-rimmed and hollow.
She did not look like a victorious benefactor. She looked like a woman who had just lost everything.
The noise of the ball faded into the night as the three women made their way up to her quarters, opening the windows to let in the cool evening air.
“Aye, that is better, lass,” Marion said warmly. “Let me tell Miss Abby to warm some milk for ye.”
“That would be grand, Marion.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Iam a stranger in my own home,Hugo thought to himself as he fastened the last buckle of his boot.I cannot stand to be here one more second.
The sun was a faint light in the waking sky when he slipped out of the townhouse. He moved like a ghost, his steps silent on the stairs, each movement precise and controlled.
He had to escape the very air Elspeth breathed, an air that felt thick with her scent, the lingering echo of her delight at the most successful event the townhouse had ever hosted.
He was displaced by a woman who had, in a matter of weeks, managed to completely dismantle the quiet, ordered world he had built. That he depended on.
It is her, all of it. Her laughter, her fierce determination, the way she looks at me as if I am a puzzle she is determined to solve. She has taken over everything—my routine, my thoughts,even the very scent of my home. I cannot breathe in my own home without thinking of her.
He could not bear to see her face, that he knew. He had excused himself before the conclusion of the party, and he was glad that the guests had been too distracted to notice.
Her skin would be radiant with the triumph of the night before, her emerald-green eyes extraordinarily bright. It was a triumph he had helped her achieve, he knew that. It was a victory that would ultimately remind her that this London sojourn, this entire competition, was just a means to an end.
Elspeth was now a step closer to a new marriage, a new life without him.
He had seen the happiness in her eyes as she sauntered around the room, the genuine joy that came from the recognition she had earned. It had been a dagger to his heart.
It was easier to run than to face the wreckage he had made, the emotional debris left behind by his clumsy attempts to help her while simultaneously pushing her away.
