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Chapter 60
When Silas had returned from his walk, he had refused both dinner and bath. He had spoken to both Dinah and Michael, outlining his plans. Both of them had listened, stunned, before agreeing that it would be the perfect proof that he indeed loved her. It would take him a long while to do as he had planned. But he couldn’t wait until it was completed to apologize to her.
That was something that should have been done nearly two weeks before. So, he knocked on the familiar door to the house on Harley Street, then waited. His heart was pounding in his chest. Silas had never been so nervous in his life.
All of his future happiness depended upon the success of this explanation and apology. If it didn’t go well, then he would have to face a very long and miserable existence, without Lucy. He shuddered to think of it.
The door opened, and Lucy stood there. She seemed surprised to see him. She looked stunning, if a little sad around the eyes. Her hair was pulled back in a low, loose bun, a few strands framing her face. She was wearing a pale blue muslin which had a stray smudge of paint on one of the long sleeves.
“Oh,” he said, completely at a loss for words. Here she was, the very being that he thought of every waking moment of the day, and even dreamed of whenever he fell into an exhausted sleep.
“I suppose you want to come inside, then?” Her tone was sad, though she seemed resigned to allow him to explain everything.
“If you would be so kind, Lucy. You—you look lovely.”
She seemed shocked, for a second, at the use of her Christian name. She recovered quickly, then stepped aside, her gaze on the floor. He followed her into the house.
She looked at him, curiously. He tried to think of something to say—anything. He was struck by the remembrance of the last time they had been alone.
“The last time that we were here alone,” he commented. “It was the happiest time of my life.”
“I’m sure it was,” she replied. “At the time, I felt the same.” She turned away from him, towards the stairs.
“I understand if you don’t care for me anymore,” he said, his heart still thumping nervously in his chest as he followed her up to the parlour. The stairs creaked beneath their feet.
“I’m very hurt to learn that you didn’t come to love me at the beginning,” she replied softly. “I should have known that I was nothing but an ordinary woman to you. At four-and-twenty, a spinster, no less.”
“No,” he said, his voice coming out harsh, broken. “You never were. Not to me.”
She frowned, though she waited. She even sat down on the settee. He knelt, before her. When he went to take her by the hand, she pulled away.
I deserved that,he thought, chastened. He remained where he was. He had been up nearly the whole night before, going over what he planned to say to her.
“I know that I’ve hurt you,” he said, looking her in the eye as he spoke. “Percy Stalton thought that he knew all, but he did not.”
“It seemed to me that he knew everything.” She studied him closely. He couldn’t read her expression; it was very guarded.
“I let him think that it was a bet that would feel like punishment to me,” he explained. “I didn’t want him to know how I felt about you, or he would have tried to woo you in front of me.” He sighed. “So, I let him think that I wasn’t eager to court you.”
She stared at him, tilting her head to the side. “I don’t understand,” she replied, her eyes sparkling with tears. “Why would you ever have to pretend in front of Mr Stalton? You are the Viscount of Thornbridge, and on that day, you were the heir to the viscountcy. No one need question you.”
“I realize how it must sound.” He was beginning to. He was learning all about his failings. And he meant never to make the same mistakes again.
“Silas,” she said, the first tear slipping down her cheek. She quickly reached up to brush it away. “There was no need for it. If you truly cared for me, then you would have been able to court me without question.”
“I’ve been stupid.”
“Yes, you have.”
“So,” he said. “I apologize, with all my heart. I never wanted to hurt you. Never. I have wanted you from the moment that I first saw you, standing in the garden beside my sister. I have loved you from the moment that we kissed in the library at Thornbridge Manor.”
She was crying in earnest now. His heart broke, for he had caused her such suffering. He had done it—there was no one else to blame. If he hadn’t lied about how he felt, then Percy would never have made the bet to begin with.
“I am so sorry that you were hurt,” he said. “I never wanted to hurt you. I should never have hidden the bet from you. I should have told you everything. I should have protected you, shown you just how precious you are to me.
“I do not ask you to forgive me,” he went on. She gasped, covering her mouth. Tears were flowing freely down her cheeks, and it hurt him all of the way to his core. He knew that he was the one who had caused those tears, as well as many more that he hadn’t seen. “No. I do not. Not yet. I want to prove to you that I do love you. I beg of you, give me some time.”
“How long?” she asked, sniffling.
