Eugenie, however, was not so easily dismissed. “You are a coward. You have a chance at real happiness, and you’re letting it slip from your grasp. For what? For pride? For fear?”
“You know not what you speak of.”
Eugenie let out a humorless laugh, tilting her head as she studied him. “No? Then answer me this—when you wake uptomorrow and realize she’s gone, when you watch another man stand beside her, will you feel relief? Or will you feel regret?”
The words hit their mark. He knew it. She knew it.
He rose from his seat and came to a stop beside her. “She is gone. Let’s leave it at that.” His voice was quiet, edged with something almost resigned.
Eugenie said nothing more. She only watched as he turned and walked away, disappearing down the corridor toward his bedchamber—leaving behind only the echo of missed chances and the truth he wasn’t yet ready to face.
18
As the soft rays of the morning sun crept into her bedchamber, Elsbeth fastened the latch on her final trunk and sighed, her heart heavy with indecision. “That should do,” she murmured, more to herself than to anyone else.
Clara, busy tidying the dressing table, paused and looked over. “Are you certain you wish to leave after breakfast?”
Elsbeth sank onto the trunk. “I don’t know what to think. Charles is insistent we leave, and I can’t say he’s wrong.”
Clara tilted her head thoughtfully. “Have you told your mother yet?”
Elsbeth winced. “I haven’t. I was hoping Charles would break the news.”
A knowing look crossed Clara’s face. “She will be quite upset that you’re missing the soiree tonight.”
“What am I supposed to do?” Elsbeth asked, her voice tinged with frustration. “Wait here until Alfred succeeds in whatever he’s planning? I can’t risk staying.”
Clara approached and perched on the edge of the bed. “You’re certain it’s Alfred? What if the falling planter was just an accident?”
Elsbeth shook her head. “No. It wasn’t an accident. And if not Alfred, then who? I truly don’t believe Charles means me harm. Which begs the question: who else would want me dead?”
Clara hesitated before asking, “And what of Lord Westcott? Can you truly leave him behind?”
“Lord Westcott and I are just friends,” she said, her voice firm, though she couldn’t even fathom her own lie. Whatever they were, it was certainly more than friendship. But he would eventually leave her.
Clara raised an eyebrow. “Yet you risked sneaking out last night just to see him?”
“It was to say goodbye,” Elsbeth said defensively. “That’s all it was. Nothing untoward happened.”
Clara didn’t look convinced. “You risked your reputation.”
“My reputation is already in tatters,” Elsbeth replied. “Lord Westcott would never be interested in someone who has fallen so far in Society.”
“You’re still the daughter of an earl, with an impressive dowry. You shouldn’t discount yourself so easily.”
Elsbeth wished it was that simple, but it wasn’t. It was much more complicated than that. “It doesn’t matter. We said our goodbyes. I’m leaving this village, and that’s that.”
“Are you truly giving up on Lord Westcott so easily?”
Pressing her lips together, Elsbeth rose and adjusted the folds of her traveling habit. “Clara, I would rather not talk about him.”
Before Clara could respond, the door swung open to reveal her mother. She stepped into the room, her eyes sweeping over the packed trunks with a frown of confusion. “What is going on here? Why are your trunks packed?”
Drat. Charles hadn’t spoken to her mother yet. In a voicethat she hoped sounded more confident than she felt, she revealed, “Charles and I are departing for his country estate after breakfast.”
Her mother’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “When was this decided?”
“Last night,” Elsbeth replied.
