Page 10 of The Ruin of Miss Amelia Burrowes

She drew back, unsure if she wanted to listen to an explanation that brought so much pain to him. Still, if he needed atonement, she would hear him.

“You said you remember that evening underneath the cherry tree?”

Nodding, she looked away. Although time had dimmed the pain of his defection, that kiss still lingered bright in her memory.

“I promised you I would speak to your father about a formal courtship, and I had every intention of doing so the next day. That night when I arrived home, I sought out my father to apprise him of my intentions toward you.” Lord Ainsley’s cheerful countenance had grown grim, his mouth drawn, the skin under his eyes suddenly darkened. “Unfortunately, he was not particularly enthusiastic about the news. His reasons had nothing to do with you, my dear, but with me. My age, specifically. I was only twenty-one that summer, an age, he told me, when I should be off seeing the world, experiencing new places, new ideas, steeping myself in the ancient cultures of foreign lands. Not leg-shackled to a lady I’d only just met.”

Teeth clenched to hold her tongue, Amelia sat with her hands clasped in her lap, fuming. His father had been the one to sunder their budding affection for one another. Had he not done so, what might her life have been like these past ten years?

Lord Ainsley closed his eyes and clenched his fists. “I should’ve argued more stringently for the courtship, but again, I was young and in the habit of taking my father’s advice.” He opened stormy gray eyes to gaze on her. “I wish to God I had not, but I did. We set off the very next morning for Portsmouth to arrange passage on a ship to Italy, to commence the Grand Tour I’d always wished to take. I wanted to send you a letter, explaining what had happened and asking you to wait for me, but Father wouldn’t hear of it. He said a clean break would be best, that I couldn’t expect you to wait years for me to return.”

“In that, I believe he was correct, my lord.” Much as she’d have liked to refute it, she could not. While she would’ve been content to wait two or more years for Lord Ainsley to return, her parents certainly would not have. They’d expected her to make a good match that first Season.

He shook his head sadly. “I set sail with the image of your face in my mind, determined to write to you when I first made port. However, the ship was delayed, becalmed off the Canary Islands, so when I arrived in Rome, I was met with a letter from my father that had come more swiftly overland. In it, he mentioned your betrothal to Lord Carrington.” Lord Ainsley sat straighter on the seat, shifting the ribbons from one hand to the other. “I sent up a prayer for your happiness and turned my thoughts to enjoying the Tour, although for the first month, at least, I was miserable company for the group of fellows I joined.”

“I see.” Tears pricked her eyes, and she blinked them back. He had truly cared for her that long-ago summer. If not for his father’s misplaced meddling, this man might’ve been her husband all this time.

“Last night, I learned you did not marry after all, and today,” he paused, his lips going quite white, “I heard about the circumstances that followed your betrothed’s death.”

Oh, God, he did know. Somehow, his solicitous behavior toward her today had suggested he hadn’t learned of her shame. She raised her head and looked him in the eyes. “And having learned about the gossip that ruined my reputation, I suppose you wish to revile me as well?”

“No, Miss Burrowes.” The hard planes of his face made him seem distant and unapproachable. “I wish to hear your side of the story.”

* * * *

From the way her eyes widened, that request had been unexpected. Nathan clenched his jaw. Had no one ever asked for her explanation of the events surrounding her betrothal and the aftermath of Carrington’s death? Gossip and rumors were often no more than that, but just as capable of ruining a lady or gentleman’s reputation. He wanted to hear it from the lady herself. He owed her that. If he’d stayed in England and married her, none of that unpleasantness would’ve occurred. And he found he wanted to retain the untarnished memory of their brief time together. He’d believed her a true lady then; he wanted to believe it now as well. “Please tell me if the rumors are true.”

“You are bold, my lord.” A steely blue-eyed gaze pierced him. “Why should I tell you anything, as it does not concern you in the least?”

“I think it does concern me, Miss Burrowes.” Grasping her hand, he clasped it between both of his, the sudden warmth assailing his senses. “It concerns me that you may have been reviled all these years unjustly, due, in part, to my folly. I beg you, tell me what happened.”

Her shoulders slumped, and she shook her head. “The truth matters very little. The ton will believe what it will.”

“But I will judge for myself what I believe is true, if you will tell me.” He wanted the rumors to be false. Wanted it badly. So he could believe in her still.

For a long moment, he doubted she would. The bleak look on her face spoke of her distress then she dragged her gaze away from him.

“When you did not appear again that Season, I was angry and hurt. I had believed you honorable and even fancied myself a little in love with you. So when I found you were gone, with no word as to why, I was determined to forget you, to get on with my Season and finding a man who would care for me. Lord Carrington and I were introduced a week or so after you disappeared. He was tall and handsome, had some wit in his conversation, and was very attentive to me from the beginning of our acquaintance. It took almost no time for me to believe myself in love with him, so when he proposed, I accepted him.” A ghost of a smile played across her lips. “He was a good man, and we seemed to suit tolerably well. The wedding date was set, and we continued to appear together at entertainments, for all the world like a happy couple.”

The story so far was as Nathan had expected. Her last words, however, pricked his interest. “You seemed like a happy couple, yet you were not?”

“You know the prevailing thoughts on how a proper young lady should act, do you not, my lord?” She arched an eyebrow. “I’m certain you also are aware that many betrothed couples consider themselves married from the time the proposal is accepted.” Pink deepened the roses already on her cheeks. “Lord Carrington was one of those proponents. He begged me to…surrender myself to him before the nuptials were spoken, but I refused. We were to be married in a matter of weeks, as soon as the banns could be read. I told him we could surely wait that long.”

“But…?” Nathan’s heart hurt as though it had been caught in the teeth of a vise.

Her fierce frown took him aback. “There is no ‘but,’ my lord. I did not acquiesce to his demand, no matter what people may have said. We quarreled over it almost every time we met, until I wished for my wedding day just to make the arguments stop.”

“No gentleman should’ve put you through such anguish.” Nathan’s opinion of Carrington, not good to begin with, plummeted. “One ‘no’ from you should’ve been sufficient.”

Her sad little smile tore at his heart. “I am not surprised to hear you say that, my lord. I daresay things would’ve been quite different if the gentleman in question had been you.”

By God, but that was true. From the depths of his heart, he wished for the thousandth time he’d never listened to his father, had instead married this beautiful woman and lived a contented life all these years. Wishes, however, would never make that come true.

“When Jonathan…Lord Carrington fell ill, we assumed it was a trifling sickness. But the nagging cough became pneumonia, the doctor said. I journeyed with my mother to Bedfordshire, to his home seat where he’d gone when the sickness worsened.” Unable to hide her agitation, Miss Burrowes fell to pulling at the strings of her purse. “We kept praying he would recover, and for a while, he did rally. That is when Mama suggested we have the wedding go forward, by special license. Lord Carrington agreed, for he believed he would recover but wanted me to be provided for in the event of his death.”

At least the man had attempted decency in the end. “But he did not recover?”

“No, he succumbed.” Her matter-of-fact tone seemed odd, but perhaps she’d come to terms with her grief.