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Caroline’s words echoed in her mind. He did have a duty to fulfill. He might not want to consummate the marriage at first, but time would be on her side. And there were ways to persuade even the most reluctant man. Perhaps—provided he met no one else—he might in time come to desire her.
Both paths beckoned. One altruistic, the other, anything but. Both were paved with liberal amounts of dishonesty. Until she chose which to take, she would exist in an unbearable state of limbo.
Leaving Caroline’s room, she made her way to the stairs. Each step felt like a little death, an incremental descent into Hades as she made her slow way down. Pausing outside the door of the salon, she gathered her courage.
This is it.
She opened the door to find both Charles and Sorin waiting for her. Her cousin’s face was inscrutable, but Sorin’s…he looked haggard, as though he’d not slept in days, and there was a nasty bruise along his jaw. Her heart ached at the sight. This was all her fault. If she’d just been clear with Yarborough in the beginning, he would never have pursued her and Sorin would never have felt obligated to defend her.
Both men stood as she entered. She dipped a dutiful curtsy and waited, her heart in her throat, as Sorin bowed.
“Eleanor, Lord Wincanton has requested to speak with you privately,” said Charles, his manner frighteningly formal. “I’ll be waiting in the library.”
Her heart raced as the door shut with a muted click behind him. All the careful words she’d been rehear
sing jumbled together on the tip of her tongue and remained there, unable to escape, as Sorin came to stand before her.
“I’m sure Rowena has made you aware of what transpired last night,” he said quietly.
Though her informant had in fact been Caroline, Eleanor nodded.
“Firstly, know that it was only because of my high regard and long affection for you that I acted in such a manner,” he continued, his deep voice rougher than she’d ever heard it, save in her dreams. “Yarborough’s words angered me such that I was drawn beyond the point of considering the consequences you would have to bear for my reaction to them. Please forgive me.”
“There is nothing to forgive,” she said, finding her voice. Silently, she cursed the tears that began to cloud her vision. “By coming to my defense, you did what any true friend would have done.”
He shook his head. “No. Were I a true friend, I would have answered his lies with words rather than brute violence, thereby accomplishing the revelation of truth without condemning you. Instead, I let my heart and my temper overrule all good sense.” He looked down. “I struck him because it was what I wanted. It was purely selfish of me, and now there is only one way to prevent your ruination.”
The blood began to whoosh in her ears. “I beg you not to say another word!” she burst out. “If you care for me at all, you will leave this instant and let the matter play out as it will without interfering—I will not allow you to be punished for defending me!”
“Punished?” He let out a cracked laugh. “If anyone is to suffer for my impetuous behavior, it is you, not I.”
It was both dream and nightmare as he reached into his pocket, pulled out a small gilt box, and dropped to one knee before her. “Eleanor,” he said softly. “I love you—I have for quite some time now. Will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”
Tears ran unchecked down her face, and a great sob lodged in her throat. She clapped a hand over her mouth to prevent its escape. The temptation was so great! All she had to do was say ‘yes’ and she’d have everything she wanted.
Except for his heart. He might have said the words, but she knew they could not be true. Already I have corrupted him, caused him to lie on my behalf.
After a moment, she took a deep breath and forced the dreaded words she’d rehearsed past trembling lips. “It is with regret that I must refuse your very kind offer.” She closed her watering eyes and made herself speak the rest before he could object. “You care for me—I know this—but it’s not enough. I cannot allow you to marry me out of some misplaced sense of honor or obligation. Not when you might still marry someone who can truly make you happy as I know I cannot.” Someone like your Jane. She swallowed another sob. “I won’t rob you of that joy.”
“Eleanor, look at me.”
The command was not to be refused, especially when she felt the warm touch of his fingers beneath her chin. She opened her eyes and looked down into his luminous hazel ones, expecting to see relief. Instead, there was a look of such hurt in them that it stole her breath.
“I’ve been dishonest with you for so long,” he said after what seemed an eternity. “Like a coward, I hid my true feelings from you, afraid of how you might react. But no more.”
For an instant, wild hope flared in her breast. But it was quickly snuffed out. “You would say anything to persuade me, to protect me. But I’m not a child to be protected anymore, and I will not be persuaded in this. I release you from any obligation to me, real or imagined.” She turned to leave but his hand shot out to clasp her wrist, holding her in place.
“It’s not an obligation!” he insisted, pulling her back. Taking her hand, he pressed the little box into her palm. “Open it,” he demanded gruffly.
The box’s hard edges pressed into her flesh as she stood there, her throat too tight to speak. Opening it was the last thing she wanted to do. To see the symbol of what might have been could, and probably would, break her will to refuse him.
“Eleanor, please,” he urged gently. “Just look at it—and then I promise I’ll ask nothing more of you unless you wish it.” He released her, leaving behind an invisible, tingling imprint on her skin.
With trembling fingers, she did as he bade and opened the lid. Inside on a nest of freshly picked scarlet rose petals lay a sparkling diamond ring. She frowned. It looked strangely familiar, but it couldn’t be. Instead of diamonds, there were tiny blood-red rubies encircling the central stone. “This cannot be the…”
“It is,” he cut in. “Read the inscription.”
Picking it from amongst the fragrant petals, she brought it close and peered at the tiny words carved inside the golden circle. “The truest love begins in friendship,” she read aloud, her voice breaking on the last word.
