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“I have a better solution.” She steeled herself. “Cast me out. Publicly.”
He stopped pacing, his eyes wide. “If you go to him—”
“I won’t. I’ll disappear. Like we originally planned. Give me a week to make arrangements, and then cast me out. Once I’m gone, you’ll find another mistress and life will go on.”
Coming to her, he put his hands on her shoulders and stared into her eyes. “You love him, Diana. Please, just give me a little time to figure this out, to find a way to make it work.”
“There is no way!” she hissed, furious and wanting to shout but unable in case there were ears listening outside the door. “Not one that ends with everyone happy. We both know it. But you and René still have a chance, provided we do this right. You must cast me out.”
“No,” he said in a tone she knew meant there was no winning. “Give me two weeks. I beg you. Let me at least try.”
Sighing, she capitulated. It would make no difference, but she would give it to him. If nothing else, it would allow her more time to get her affairs in order. The new start she’d had planned to make didn’t seem even remotely appealing now, but it was all she could hope for. Some irrational part of her had wanted so much to believe that she, Lucas, Harrow, and René could continue on as they were indefinitely and be happy, free of the world’s interference. But that wasn’t realistic. In truth, life was painful, unfair, and utterly without mercy. Especially when it came to love.
“Fine. But I’m coming with you. I want to speak to Lucas one last time. He deserves to hear this from both of us.” She held his eyes until he lowered his, and she knew she’d won the argument. There was a reason his plan wouldn’t work, but he couldn’t see it. Neither would Lucas. She had to make them both understand.
When Lucas arrived at Harrow’s house that evening, it took every ounce of willpower not to throw herself into his arms.
Harrow closed the doors, shutting out the world, before addressing his guest. “We have put our foot in it, so to speak,” he began quietly. “And now there is nothing for it but to attempt to salvage the situation.”
“Agreed,” said Lucas, his eyes on her, though he was talking to Harrow. “I assume we won’t be facing each other on the field tomorrow morning, or I would not be here.”
“Correct,” said Harrow. “As I told Diana earlier today, I cannot call you out without us either wounding each other or making a mockery of the practice, which would be even more damning. There is a way to settle this without bloodshed.”
She watched Lucas’s face as Harrow laid out the plan, such as it was, knowing what he was going to say before he spoke.
“And in two weeks we’ll be in the exact same place we are now,” Lucas said when he finished, looking at her. “Unless you defect and become my mistress.”
“No,” she told him flatly. “If this were a true rivalry, the two of you would not be able to coexist in the same city if I did such a thing. Harrow would be honor bound to seek satisfaction in order to save face. No. I must do as I originally planned. It’s the only way—and you know it is,” she said to Harrow over the objections he’d begun to voice. She knew he was wroth with her for gainsaying him, but this was the only way to be sure he and René were safe and Lucas stayed alive. “Harrow and I will make a show of disagreement and strife between us over the next two weeks. It will culminate in a public argument, at the end of which he will cast me aside. Then, I disappear.”
“No,” said Lucas, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he shook his head. “I won’t agree to that.”
She pressed her lips together briefly before rebutting, knowing her heart was about to break and powerless to stop it. “I’m afraid you don’t get to make that choice.”
…
Lucas couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He thought she loved him. He knew now that he was in love with her, because he hurt more than he’d ever thought possible. And there was nothing he could do but sit there, listening to their plans, and suffer in silence as everything inside him unraveled.
Because he wouldn’t—couldn’t show what he was really feeling.
Every now and again, he caught Harrow staring at him with a look of sympathy. He suspected the man knew something of what he was keeping pent up inside but thankfully said nothing. Lucas didn’t want his pity. He didn’t want anyone’s pity.
The longer he sat there, the angrier he became. I’m a bloody fool, just like my father. He’d made the mistake of letting himself get too attached, and although he hadn’t fallen into the marriage trap, he’d put his foot into a nasty snare just the same. And the pain he was feeling? It was his own damned fault.
He couldn’t bear to look at Diana anymore. He knew if he did, he’d see the same unfeeling mask he now wore, only unlike his, hers would be more than skin deep.
The plans they were discussing didn’t even involve him, save for the caution to stay out of their way. After today, his part in this was over and done. They didn’t need him anymore. She’d never really needed him at all.
By the time they finally agreed on what was going to happen, Lucas was itching to leave. At last, the d
iscussion ended, and he found himself standing up and shaking Harrow’s hand.
“I’m truly sorry,” the fellow was saying. “If either of us manages to think of a better way to solve this problem, we must send a message to the other. Until then, I think it best we sever casual communication lest we make matters even worse.”
He had no problem with that at all. “I truly regret having cast your happy arrangement into chaos,” he said, and he meant it. “I know the stakes for you are especially high, and I would not willingly bring tragedy down upon you or your loved ones.”
Then it was Diana’s turn. He took in her waxen cheeks and downcast gaze. She wouldn’t even look at him. Coward. Blessed wrath burned away the unmanly stinging in his eyes. “I suppose this is goodbye, then,” he said, keeping his manner brisk.
No response.
