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“Love,” she sobbed, the tears finally spilling. “I couldn’t face a lifetime with Lord Trent knowing he held no esteem for me, and that the rumors saying he already has a woman he loves with his whole soul, but because of her lower status made her his mistress, were true. A life such as that would have been unbearable.”
Her brother let her go and closed his eyes as if he couldn’t bear looking at her. “You’ve ruined us for the stupid, idealistic notion of love.”
Her stomach cramped. “No, I—”
“Can love provide you with fine clothes and carriages. Can it fill our pantries and place wages in our servants’ pockets?”
She inhaled sharply. “Are we in dire straits?”
“No, we are not,” he said tightly. “You could have been a marchioness, Fanny.”
And there it was. The elevated dream her father and mother had long possessed for her. That their family would be aligned with the most powerful and noble bloodlines of the aristocracy.
“There is more to life than a title and more riches,” she said quietly. “I believe—”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Not this poppycock again. Let me be clear. You have ruined your chances at any respectable alliance. You will not drag our family name through the mud again. Immediate marriage is what you need to render you respectable. I went back over all the men who’ve made an offer for you at your come out and wrote to—”
“You didn’t,” she cried, humiliation crawling through her. “How could you act in such a despicable manner?”
He shot her an incredulous glare. “I daresay you are confusing our actions. I am attempting to render you respectable. If that is at all possible. Earl Worsley is willing to marry you post haste.”
An image of their fat, balding neighbor in Hertfordshire, who was old enough to be her father…perhaps her grandpapa floated through her thoughts. "He is decrepit." Though actually, he was a very kind soul who had always made her feel at ease. As the largest landowner in their village, Fanny had been invited to several balls and picnics hosted by the earl. He was charming and rather amiable, but she had no desire for him. Lord Worsley had always treated her like a daughter, and the very thought of the earl trying to kiss her was alarming to her nerves.
Colin’s eyes went cold as if he sensed she would not fall in line with his plans.
“Do not be melodramatic, he is six and forty, hardly that old. And desires you despite your foolish behavior. I am doing what is best for you, Fanny.”
She tried to maintain an air of dignified calm “By pushing me onto a man for whom I have no regards? Surely you can see such an action is what is best for you.”
Her brother gently gripped her shoulder. “Look at me,” he murmured.
He held her gaze, a disquieting sorrow burning in his eyes. “I’ve long known of your desire to have a family of your own. This is your chance for that family. It took three years after your last disgrace for a gentleman to propose to you. And a marquess came your way, Fanny. And you gave him up for romantic idiocy. No other man will have you, and I do not have the heart to have you under my roof for several more years until another suitor comes along.”
She flinched, biting her tongue to prevent the cry of pain that almost tore from her. As it were, the tears burning in her throat spilled down her cheeks even harder. “You want to distance yourself from my scandal.”
“The rumors call you the worse sort of flirt, leading on a man to only render his humiliation. This is the second time you’ve jilted a man.” He prowled over to his desk and snatched up a crumpled newspaper and thrust it toward her. “Do you know what they’re calling you? The double jilt. You are ruined. Darcy hasn’t had a caller since this farce. And you have not extended an apology to the marquess or this family.”
Her heart was a dull thud in her ear, and her mouth went dry. ?
?I’m…I’m…” she closed her eyes. She could not pretend contrition. The marquess had been intimate with a lady only minutes before attempting to marry her. That man was the worst sort of scoundrel, and she would have withered away in their marriage. It hurt, somewhere deep inside that her family only seemed to care about their social status, and not the blow that was dealt to her pride and heart. “He has a mistress,” she whispered. “I could not marry him, and I cannot apologize for protecting myself.”
“All men have mistresses,” Collin roared.
“Do you?” for she knew he loved Darcy with every emotion in his heart.
He stared at her as if he could not believe her gall, but something akin to guilt flitted across his face. Fanny had often remarked to her friends how much her brother doted on his countess. It had never occurred to her he might have a soiled dove in his keeping. Her stomach cramped that he too might act with such dishonor and disregard for his wife’s sensibilities and the love she had for him. “Do you have a mistress, Colin?” she demanded.
Her brother took a breath, leashing his impatience, but he made no reply. Silence blanketed the library as she stared at him in disbelief.
A ragged breath filled with such pain sliced through the stifling air. She whirled around to see Darcy hovering on the threshold, her delicate hand resting at her throat. The eyes that peered at her husband were wide and questioning, filled with doubts, denial, and pain.
Colin dealt her a wrathful glare. “Damn you, Fanny.”
The shock of her brother cursing her paled to the knowledge he must have a lover. Dear God.
A cry broke from Darcy’s throat, and then she whirled about and ran. Colin dashed after, calling for her to stop. With legs that trembled, Fanny made her way over to the windowsill and lowered herself on the small ledge, resting her forehead on the cool glass.
Everything was ruined, and she had no notion of how to escape the despair scything through her soul.
