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Only he hadn’t done anything.
Guilt etched through his mind. He’d spoken to her of his attraction that very morning. He had even kissed her for those brief few seconds. Why couldn’t he have kept his mouth shut?
It didn’t matter. She’d grabbed the sword out of his hand after he’d warned her not to. She had wanted to prove to him that she could do it.
The time had come to be finished with this self-castigating. He was through with the guilt. All he’d done was tell her how he felt that morning. Now he would marry her and never think of that day again.
It was her fault.
And she would be the one to pay for her actions. He was finished with her foolishness. Although she still had two weeks left to find him a wife, he knew she would never be able to succeed especially once this debacle traveled through the gossips. It was time to compromise her publicly and finish this farce.
The hell with the consequences. Her brother wouldn’t call him out. Selby would insist on a quick marriage to silence the gossips. And that was exactly what she was about to get.
After slamming the door to his room, he pulled out his valise. He had two weeks to get her compromised and the idea of staying in this damned house for one more instant held no appeal. Jennette would be back in town in a few days when the party ended. Then he would do what had to be done.
He yanked off his cravat and then his jacket before setting to work on his vest. Tossing the offending clothes on the bed, he then pulled his shirt over his head. He yearned to throw something far more substantial than a mere piece of linen. Unable to do anything else, he rolled his shirt into a ball and flung it across the room.
“I’m so sorry.”
In his impotent rage, he hadn’t even heard the door open. His head tilted backward as he stared at the ceiling. The hushed tones of her voice floated past him, caressing him, enticing him. But the last thing he wanted was to discuss anything with her. There would be plenty of time for talking after she became his wife.
“Leave me be,” he replied in a low voice.
“Matthew, please…I’m sorry,” she cried out from her position by the door.
“Get the bloody hell out of my room, Jennette. You’re only sorry because you witnessed firsthand what my life’s been like for the past five years.”
“I cannot do this any longer,” she whispered. “This is all my f—fault.”
“Yes, it is.” The moment the words were out, he regretted them.
“I have to fix this.”
He flexed his fists. “Nothing can ever mend this mess.”
“I know,” she cried. “It’s all my fault.”
Hearing the anguish in her voice, his heart softened. He knew if John hadn’t begged him to protect her, this scandal would have been over quickly. The ton would have understood what happened that day to be nothing more than an accident, but no one could understand two accidental deaths caused by him.
“No, it’s not your fault.”
“It is. I should never have let John do this to you. He had no right to make you his pawn.”
He knew without looking that she was crying. A part of him wanted to take her into his arms and tell her everything would be all right. But he couldn’t because nothing would ever be all right again. His life was an utter disaster.
“I have to tell them,” she sobbed. “I have to let everyone know that I killed John.”
He spun around to face her and his heart ached. She covered her face with her hands as she slowly slid down the length of the door until she was crouched on her haunches.
“I have to tell them,” she mumbled into her hands.
“No, you will not,” he stated firmly before striding to her. He lifted her up and cupped her face with his hands. “I promised I would protect your name. You will never tell a soul what happened that morning.”
“But—”
“Never.” He stared into her watery, sapphire eyes until he wanted to drown in their depths. The pain he saw there broke his heart. He couldn’t let her feel such anguish over his name. He’d lived with this lie for five years. He could live with it forever as long as it didn’t touch her.
“It was wrong to let everyone believe such a horrid untruth,” she protested.
