“Tell me why you left.”
Mr. Lyndon’s jaw tightened visibly. “You know why.”
A hollow feeling settled into her heart. “Was it truly only the money? Then why leave me this ring? Why marry so far beneath you?”
Color surged in his cheeks, a scowl cutting across his features. “Do not speak of my wife that way. Lucy is worth more than any amount of money.”
Nora’s ribs squeezed her lungs until the world blurred around her, and her fingers tightened instinctively around the reticule hanging from her wrist, though she missed the corners of the box that had poked her so mercilessly all morning long.
“Oh, so it wasn’t about the money at all,” she whispered. “It was always about me.”
Mr. Lyndon exhaled through his nose, the strain in his muscles leaking out with the long breath, and when he spoke at last, the strain in his voice was unmistakable.
“Please, Miss Eden. Leave this buried,” he said, his eyes pleading. “No good will come from disturbing it now.”
Something sharp twisted through Nora so violently that her muscles surged with strength, leaving her rigid as her pulse hammered in her throat.
“Do you think there is anything you can say that can pain me more than your rejection and silence? That I have spent the last few years blissfully content to know that the man I loved cast me aside so easily? Left me standing on the pavement, begging for his attention like an urchin pleading for a scrap of bread—”
“I did not reject you!”
Mr. Lyndon’s gaze cut to the nearby walkers, several of whom had slowed with poorly concealed curiosity. A muscle worked once in his jaw before he gestured stiffly toward a quieter stretch of path beneath the trees, and she followed him there, away from the open walk and its eavesdropping strangers. Yet even when the shrubbery partly screened them from view, Mr. Lyndon’s attention kept returning to the main path, as though he expected an interruption at any moment.
“I shouldn’t be surprised that he filled your head with lies.” The tightness in his expression deepened before he continued in a lower voice, “Your father refused to give me his blessing.”
Nora shook her head. “No. He offered you a bribe, and you fled with the money—”
“I do not need his money,” huffed Mr. Lyndon, dragging a hand roughly through his hair before continuing. “I went to your father, as I said I would, and he refused. Emphatically and without explanation.”
“And what of it?” Nora snapped. “I was of age and free to marry as I wished. Papa could not have stopped us.”
Sorrow settled across his features, making him appear far older than he was. “Legally, perhaps, but there was no future for us after that conversation.”
“That is absurd.”
“Is it?” Brows raised, Mr. Lyndon’s tone took on a note of pity. “Would you have turned your back on your family?”
“For you, yes!” Nora drew in a sharp breath, forcing her voice to lower once more. Despite her best efforts, her limbs insisted on shaking, so she clenched her hands. “How can you even ask that? I adore them, but they have lives of their own. Papa has his business, Mama has her friends and pastimes. My siblings will all go their separate ways, building futures that have nothing to do with me. Do you think I would rather be an accessory to their lives when I could build one of my own?”
The sharpness drained from her voice as quickly as it had risen, leaving the last words sounding painfully thin, and Nora bit down on her lips, blinking rapidly as she looked at the distant paths cutting through the square.
She was so very tired.
Mr. Lyndon watched her a moment before speaking again, and when he did, the rough tone was absent. “I knew if I spoke to you, and told you the truth, you would be as stubborn as you are being now. Making you hate me was the only way to protect you.”
“Or to protect yourself,” she murmured, the words hollowing her out far more effectively than shouting ever could. “We all know how vicious Papa can be, and I have no doubt that you would do anything to keep him from becoming your enemy.”
Though the gentleman puffed out a few explanations and rationalizations, dancing around a direct answer with the skill of a politician, Mr. Lyndon never denied that claim. And even if he had, Nora saw the truth in his eyes. No doubt he’d been concerned for her, but it was foolish to think fear hadn’t played a part in his actions.
Nora lowered her gaze to the damp gravel path whilst her fingers curled tightly into her palms, the pressure doing little tosteady the trembling that continued working stubbornly through her hands.
“Why did he reject you?” she added, shaking her head. “If both of you were so virtuous and your intentions so pure, why would he reject your suit?”
“That is for him to answer,” said Mr. Lyndon, inching away. “I am sorry for any pain I caused, but as there was no future for us, I thought it best to sever ties neatly.”
But even as he spoke, Nora saw the hesitation that checked the words before they fully formed. His shoulders had gone rigid again, his gaze darting to the trees overhead before returning to her with visible reluctance. Twice he seemed on the verge of saying something further only to swallow it, and the restraint scraped sharply against Nora’s frayed nerves.
“What?” she demanded. “What are you not saying?”
