After taking a deep breath, he marched up the steps, pushed open the door, and entered the vestibule.
“You’re late,” King said in a harsh whisper that still managed to echo somewhat through the antechamber.
He turned to find his best mates standing there, brows furrowed.
“What kept you?” King asked.
“I’m not going to marry her.”
King, usually so in control of his emotions, gaped. “Little late for that. The church is packed to the rafters.”
Of course it was. Everyone having arrived early enough to get a good seat. It wasn’t every day a lord married a woman born on the wrong side of the blanket. He wondered if they’d come hoping to behold a debacle in the same manner that people gathered around to watch someone walking across a tightrope, not really to be amazed by the skill but anticipating watching the blighter fall. He despised the thought that they were here in hopes of seeing her fail—
And he was on the verge of giving them precisely what they’d come to witness.
“Why the change of heart?” Rook asked.
His heart hadn’t changed, even as he could presently feel it growing cold and brittle. What of her heart? Would it shatter into a thousand shards? Who would piece it back together? Surely, somedaysomeone would. And that man would be the luckiest on earth, and Knight already despised him with every ounce of his being, even as he was grateful the man would have the power to bring her joy. “I came to the conclusion we wouldn’t suit, at least not for the long term.”
“Yet you are dressed in your wedding finery, as though you intended to carry through on the matter.” Damn Rook for noticing. “Hence, the decision had to have been made on the way here.”
True enough, but Knight kept silent, his jaw aching from the clenching of it necessary to hold back the truth.
“You’re not prone to cowardice, but could you be experiencing simply a sane man’s hesitancy at losing his freedom? A hesitancy that will pass when you catch sight of the lady walking up the aisle?”
“My mind is set. If you’ll excuse me, I need to have a word with her.”
He headed down the vestibule, rounded a corner into a hallway, and slammed to a complete stop at the sight of her standing outside of a door, talking in a low voice with her father. He didn’t know where her maids of honor were. They were apparently girls with whom she’d gone to school. She wasn’t close to any of them. Perhaps they were off somewhere tittering about their chances of landing a lord. Not that he cared; the fewer witnesses the better.
She must have sensed his presence because she turned her head and delivered a brilliant smile capable of possibly melting his father’s rock-hard heart. Hereyes were filled with warmth and mirth. “It’s bad luck to see me before I enter the sanctuary.”
He was going to lay at her feet the worst, rottenest luck of all.
“What the devil are you doing, Knightly?” her father asked. “You should be at the altar. It’s time we got on with this matter.”
Everything within him screamed to spin about on his heel, grab his friends, and get to the altar. “Can you give me a moment alone with Regina?”
The earl glared at him, but his eyes softened when he glanced at her, and she nodded. Of course she’d agree. She was expecting a final declaration of love, a private vow, perhaps even a gift to demonstrate the depths of his feelings for her. Instead, he was going to destroy her, and how in the hell was he to live with that knowledge?
“Make it quick,” her father commanded before striding off and disappearing around the blasted corner that seemed to be a demarcation of his life. The before-he-destroyed-her moments and the after-he-destroyed-her moments. Knight very much doubted he’d ever again set foot in this church, in any church for that matter.
Her lips quirked. “Couldn’t stand to go so long without seeing me? It’s been only a few hours.”
Since he’d slipped from her bedchamber after making love to her in sin for what he’d thought would be the final time. When next they came together, it was to be within the boundaries of the law as man and wife.
He took several steps until he was near enough todraw her into the circle of his arms, inhale her fragrance, and simply hold her, this woman who was so incredibly precious to him. And it was because of those feelings that he had to rip them asunder.
“Arthur?” Her voice was laced with worry. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
He slipped a forefinger beneath her chin, tilted up her face, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Then, after releasing his hold on her, he stepped back. “I can’t marry you.”
A tiny pleat appeared between her brows. She blinked. Blinked. “Pardon?”
Pushing the words out once had been difficult enough, but to do it again...
Christ, he wished he’d had time to devise an elegant exit from this mess. He was a planner, never acting in haste. Every action thought out, but he was too numb by what he’d learned and the pain he was causing her to truly think at all. “I can’t marry.”
Not only you, but anyone.However, he wasn’t going to tell her all that because she’d want to know everything, andeverythinghad to go to the grave with him. Nor did he want to burden her with his own struggles.
