“I do my best.”
“Then, as one smart man to another, please enlighten me as to why you don’t want to marry Violet.”
Callum hated everything about this. Talking about his feelings with a relative stranger? He wondered if he could return to the manor and press Bridget to involve him in a seance. “I never said I didnae want to marry her.”Shit.
Trembly chortled. “That was easier than I thought it would be. Shall I call the vicar?”
“But I willnae do it.” His stomach soured, and for a moment he worried he’d toss up its contents on the heather beneath his feet. “If I cannae save the company, I willnae be able to support her, nor James and my aunt. I can only pay off the debts if I go to Panama.” Trembly’s nostrils flared. “So you’re not even going to try?” He shook his head. “She deserves better than me.”
“She deserves better than any of us. But she’s in love with you.”
Callum wondered if Yorkshire was prone to earthquakes, for the ground had shifted beneath his feet. “She—has she said she’s—” His mouth worked a moment longer before Trembly took pity on him.
“She hasn’t said as much, but I’ve known her for long enough to recognize she’s different with you.”
Callum bent to pick up the rifle and started walking along the crest of the hill towards a thicket of forsythia and gorse. “She’s no’ in love with me.”
“Maybe not yet, but she’s in danger of the ailment.” Trembly was close behind him, apparently unwilling to give up the conversation. “And she’s my friend. I won’t let her get hurt again.”
Callum swung, rifle in hand, and the marquess leapt back with a squeak. “I have nae intention of hurting her. I told her from the start that I cannae be anyone’s husband.”
“Can’t be or won’t be?”
“I have obligations no one else can manage.”
Trembly scoffed. “Did you know lying causes freckles?
Callum opened his mouth to interrupt, but Trembly lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I only want to know if I’m going to be left picking up the pieces when this party is over in three days’ time.”
His chest ached so profoundly, he rubbed his fist against his sternum. When he’d first arrived in Yorkshire, the fortnight had seemed interminable, but now the hours were slipping through his fingers like sand through a sieve. Invisible bands tightened around his lungs, the familiar panic striking him for an unfamiliar reason.
Violet’s presence made something bright and warm bloom inside him. Made him see the world in color instead of grayscale. The sorceress made himlaugh.Hours in her orbit wouldn’t be adequate. He wanted days, weeks, a lifetime.
But she didn’t want him, at least as the man he needed to be. James deserved to be happy, and Callum could provide that life for him if he gave up a future with Violet.
How would he give her up when she’d never been his to begin with?
His thoughts must have been clear on his face because Trembly hummed and nodded, his lips set in a grim line.
A rustling sounded in the brush, and both men looked as a brown hare emerged from the gorse. Callum lifted the rifle to load it, but stopped halfway, letting it fall to his side. He and Trembly held their position, watching as the animal explored the edge of the thicket and disappeared between the branches.
Trembly clapped Callum on the shoulder, causing him to jump. “The right decision, friend. There is enough pain in the world as it is.”
Chapter 30
“Where did you getthis one?” Violet traced her finger over the bump on Callum’s nose.
He shifted beneath her and caught her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm, and tendrils of pleasure curled up her arm. The first fingers of dawn crept in through the gap in the curtains, diffusing lavender light over the rumpled bedclothes strewn carelessly around their bodies. She’d padded to his chamber undetected under cover of darkness, and he’d spent the intervening hours making love to her, slowly, until daybreak.
“I was in a boxing club at Harrow during my fourth year.” She loved the rasp of his voice, the raw edge of his brogue. It soothed something inside her, sandpaper over a roughly cut edge of wood. “Verra briefly,” he added with a chuckle. “My first match, I took a shot to the nose and curled up like a wee lad, crying like a bairn. From then on, I preferred the sandbag since it couldnae hit me back.”
She tsked and leaned in to kiss the bump. “I like it. You look distinguished.”
“What about this?” His fingers found the raised line of flesh behind her ear. “What did ye do?”
He’d noticed her scar? “Curling tongs. I’ve gotten better with them, but once I was impatient for our maid to ready me for dinner, so I took the task into my own hands. I burned an entire patch of hair off as well.” She shuddered. “My sisters swooped in and took over styling, but the smell of burning hair filled the house. Mama was horrified.”
“Ye’d be beautiful even with burned hair.”
