Page 4 of A Holiday By Gaslight

“It’s the truth. Sometimes I think you forget it.”

“I never forget it,” Ned said in a low voice. The assertion betrayed far more feeling than he’d intended.

Walter’s expression briefly softened. “You’re truly broken up about this, aren’t you?”

Was he? Ned didn’t know. In all honesty, he couldn’t tell what he was feeling at the moment. A bewildering mass of disappointment, anger, and heartache was churning in his chest and in his stomach. He was quite tempted to put his fist through the wall. Either that or retire to his rooms with a large bottle of whiskey. Perhaps he was coming down with something?

“Did you love her?” Walter asked.

“No.” It was the truth. He hadn’t loved Sophia Appersett. How could he? He hardly knew her. Their relationship had never progressed beyond the veriest commonplace discussions about current events or the weather. Even then, Miss Appersett had done most of the talking.

And yet, seeing her had been the brightest spot in his day.

No, it hadn’t been love, but it had been…something. Something warm and filled with promise. Something that was gone now, irrevocably, leaving him empty and alone.

“I admired her. A great deal.”

The understatement of a lifetime.

“And Miss Appersett didn’t admire you in return, is that it?” Walter considered the matter. “What does that etiquette book of yours advise in these circumstances? A tin of sweets? A flowery apology?”

Ned stifled a groan. “I wish to God I’d never told you about that blasted book.”

Walter flashed a broad grin. It only served to make Ned more irritable. Things had always been easy for Walter Murray. He had a natural way about him. A twinkle in his green eyes and a spring in his step. With his long, lean frame and ginger-colored hair, he wasn’t particularly handsome. Nevertheless, people seemed to like him. Women seemed to like him.

“What you should do,” he advised, “is wait until Christmas and then, when you’re in Derbyshire, fall on your knees and beg her for a second chance.”

Ned leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. He was beginning to develop a pounding headache.

There would be no second chance with Miss Appersett. And even if there were, what use would it be? She’d already rejected him at his gentlemanly best. He had nothing left to offer her. No further way to prove himself worthy.

“I won’t be going to Derbyshire for Christmas.”

“Why not?”

“Damnation, Walter. Haven’t you heard a word I’ve been saying? My relationship with Miss Appersett is over. She’s called it off.”

“Ah, but has she rescinded your invitation to Appersett House?”

Ned gave a short, humorless laugh. “No, but I’m not likely to go, am I? Not after Miss Appersett’s given me my marching orders.”

“But—”

“She’s made her feelings plain and I mean to respect them.”

“And that’s an end to it?”

“It is.” Ned returned his attention to his papers, resolved to ignore the heavy ache in his heart. “My time with Miss Appersett was a pleasant interlude, but now it’s over. I shall go on as I did before. The world doesn’t end simply because I’ve had a personal disappointment.”

But he certainly felt like it had.

“You told him what?”

Sophie winced at the outrage in her father’s voice. She’d known he’d be upset by her news, but she hadn’t anticipated he’d lose his temper to quite such a degree. “It’s really for the best, Papa. If you’d but consider—”

“You foolish, empty-headed girl. Have you any idea what you’ve done?” Papa advanced upon her, his round, fleshy face red as a beetroot. “You had no business speaking to the man. No business at all—”

“Mind your temper, my dear,” her mother warned. She was seated on the overstuffed drawing room sofa, a scrap of needlework in her hand. With her elegantly inclined head and impeccable posture, she looked almost queenly. One hardly noticed that her black taffeta day dress was out of date—the color a little faded and the well-worn hem turned and mended within an inch of its life.