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Stepping quietly around the sofa, Ernest slipped past the harassed Mrs. Kinley, who was still attempting to gain Gwen’s attention, and into the hallway.

It was strangely peaceful here. Quiet, and colder than the drawing room, but it forced Ernest to feel more awake—and with that sensation came clarity.

He had to leave the Pernrith townhouse.

It took but a few minutes upon arriving in his guest bedchamber for Ernest to gather his things. His trunk had been small, and though there was a shirt in the Chances’ laundry, he did not bother to retrieve it from the servants’ quarters. A shirt could be sacrificed in exchange for speed.

Only ten minutes in total could have passed by the time Ernest had carried his packed trunk downstairs to the hallway. He was looking for his greatcoat in the muddle of coats and pelisses and scarves, his mind desperately attempting to think about where he could go, as he knew his aunt and uncle would not have him, when a voice spoke quietly behind him.

“Why are you leaving?”

Inhaling slowly and preparing himself for perhaps the most difficult conversation in his life, Ernest turned on his heels.

Gwen was looking up at him, her cheeks wet with tears.

His heart broke, but he forced himself to stay, “I cannot stay here.”

“You cannot?” Gwen sniffed, stepping toward him as she hugged herself with her arms. “No, I suppose not. It’s all gotten rather awkward.”

Ernest barked a laugh as he tugged on his greatcoat. “I think that is an understatement.”

She nodded slowly, another tear slowly falling down her face. “And I suppose you have to go.”

“Staying here is impossible,” Ernest said stiffly.

Could she not see that? Did she not understand the situation she had placed him in?

He knew…to do the honorable thing would be to marry her regardless. He could not deny that he had been overeager to take her in that bed. But if Lord Ravenshurst did not care about such a thing and would still marry her, she could still have an honorable marriage.

If she didn’t marry the marquess and didn’t tell a soul what had happened, he wouldn’t, either. She could find a husband somewhere else. Someday. When she had matured and she was certain of what she wanted. When she was certain two men didn’t expect to marry her at the same time.

Gwen nodded again. “And when will I see you again? Tomorrow?”

Ernest stared as he pulled his greatcoat over his shoulders. “‘Tomorrow’?”

“Perhaps the day after, then, if you think that is best.” Gwen gave him a watery smile. “I just don’t want it to be too long. I cannot be away from you too long.”

Was she still unable to see what a mess she had made?

“You should have made sure, Gwen,” he said gently.

She blinked. “Made sure of what?”

Ernest swore under his breath. “That you had truly broken your engagement with the Marquess of Ravenshurst before you—before we…” He gestured between the two of them, leaving the rest unsaid.

“But I had broken it off with the Marquess of Ravenshurst!” wailed Gwen, looking up in dismay. “I wrote a letter! He maybe just didn’t believe it, I don’t know!”

“Miss Gwen?” came a timid voice behind her.

“Not now, Mrs. Kinley!” both Gwen and Ernest said together.

The housekeeper scuttled out of the hallway as the younger woman turned eagerly to Ernest.

“So I will see you the day after?”

“Gwen, it’s over,” Ernest said heavily, starting to button up his greatcoat and hating how his heart continued to break with every passing second. “You’re too young. I promise I won’t tell a soul what happened, and if you don’t, either, no one need know.”

She frowned, pain in her eyes. “‘Too young’? But—But I thought—”