Page 137

The colour faded from Eliza’s face, and she recoiled as though he had struck her, taking an unsteady step backwards, her hand instinctively rising to her chest as if to shield the wound he had just inflicted.

Arthur felt every inch of it. He had faced pistols, sabres, and cannon fire. Nothing had ever required as much courage as standing perfectly still while the woman he loved looked at him as though he had shattered her heart.

"You're trying to push me away." Eliza offered.

Her voice was steadier now, though tears still clung stubbornly to her lashes.

"I know you are," she continued.

Eliza took a tentative step back towards him, searching his face with such quiet desperation.

“Admit that you are trying to push me away,” she whispered, her voice trembling once more. “Before the words you’ve just spoken have time to take root, before you say something neither of us can take back.” Eliza reached for him.

Not his hand. Not his arm. Only the sleeve of his coat, her fingertips barely grazing the fine wool, as though even that small touch might now be unwelcome.

"Arthur..." There was no teasing in her smile. No playful triumph.

"I love you," Eliza admitted.

The confession seemed to steal the very air from the room. Arthur felt the moisture vanish from his throat so completely that swallowing became almost painful. His chest rose on an unsteady breath as every instinct he possessed screamed at him to close the distance between them and tell her that he loved her too, that he had loved her gradually, quietly, and then all at once, until he no longer recognised the man he had been before she arrived at Winworth.

Arthur's vision blurred.

He blinked once. Then again. Desperately willing the sting behind his eyes to disappear before she noticed.

She had once told him she was falling for him. Now, for the first time, she was telling him she had landed.

He said nothing. Not because he lacked the words. But because he had them all. Every one of them. And he believed speaking them would condemn her to a lifetime of loving a man who only ever seemed to bring suffering to the women who gave him their hearts.

The silence stretched between them. Long enough to become its own answer. He watched the hope leave her face. The uncertainty disappeared first. Then the desperation. Finally, the warmth in her eyes extinguished altogether, replaced by something infinitely worse.

Resignation.

She lowered her hand.

With slow, deliberate movements she brushed the tears from her cheeks, drawing in one careful breath after another until her composure returned piece by painstaking piece. Her shoulders straightened, her chin lifted, and in that quiet transformation Arthur caught an unmistakable glimpse of the Dowager Duchess, the propriety she had spent weeks patiently teaching Eliza now standing between them like a suit of armour.

When she spoke again, the trembling had vanished.

"Very well." Eliza met his eyes with heartbreaking composure.

"Please leave my chambers, Your Grace."

The title hit him with greater force than any pistol ever had, and he could not help himself. He flinched.

For one impossible moment, he almost turned back. Almost crossed the room, fell to his knees before her and confessed everything he had spent the past few weeks refusing to name. That Sophia had launched herself at him and, though he had accepted the kiss, he regretted it instantly. That his every morning now began with thoughts of his wife. That he found himself searching rooms just to catch sight of her smile. That somewhere between breakfast conversations, walks through the house and quiet evenings spent together in his office, she had become the centre of his world.

Instead, he bowed his head once.

Then left.

His legs carried him through the familiar passages of Winworth with mechanical precision, each step feeling more unfamiliar than the last until he found himself outside the office once more.

Laurence was already on his feet.

"Buck—"

The voice barely registered. Arthur walked past Laurence without acknowledgement, his eyes absent until he reached his desk.