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CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
“Elizabeth?” Rhys prompted.
She swallowed, unable to meet his gaze anymore. “How did you know?”
“I began an investigation the night I found you at the port. I did not want you to be caught between Myers and his enemies.” She shut her eyes when he said that. “Why did you lie to me?”
“I did not want my family to know,” she admitted.
“What if someone had discovered what I had and came to your family with it? Did you think about that?” His voice was low but not accusing, and she was grateful for that.
“No, I did not.”
“You covered your trail well, but there is a trail, and it could lead back to you.” He touched her chin. “Look at me, Elizabeth.” She did and immediately regretted it because she saw his request in his expression before he spoke. “You have to retire.”
“You cannot ask that of me, Rhys.” Elizabeth could not tell him that she had found freedom in being Johnathan Myers because Rhys would not understand. Men rarely understood how much a woman needed to be heard.
His expression hardened. “Surely, you must know that many people want to know who Myers is, and that interest will only increase if you continue to write.”
“Will you revoke your marriage offer if I refuse?” she asked, wishing to know exactly what was at stake for her and Irene.
“No, I will not. I do not take back a promise once I have given it, but as my wife, I will require your reputation to be pristine.” He rose. “Think about this, Elizabeth, and we will speak after the wedding.”
Her stomach turned, and all of her fears returned. He was going to take away the very thing that had given her a purpose. She would lose any sense of who she was if she lost this.
“Rhys, you cannot—”
“Elizabeth,” he interrupted, “we will discuss this again when we are married.” His voice was gentle, but every word he said bit her. He knew she had to marry him because of Irene’s reputation, and he sought to control her life with the power he now had. “Do we have an accord?”
Elizabeth nodded but only to give him an illusion of obedience. She was angry because his concern was not truly for her but for his wife’s reputation. She would never allow him to deprive her of her right to keep her identity which was tied to being Myers, but she would have to wait until they were married to convince him. And if he would not be convinced, then she would have to fight him.
“I shall see you soon,” he said, inclining his head before turning to leave. She said nothing to him and lowered her eyes to her hands on her lap, feeling weary and hurt.
A short while after Rhys’ departure, her mother walked into the drawing room. When Elizabeth raised her eyes to look at her, her lips parted in surprise to find her mother smiling. “Mother—”
“We must begin preparations for the wedding,” her mother cut her off. “I cannot have any of my daughters marry Guildford with little preparation.”
Now it no longer mattered which of her daughters married Rhys? Elizabeth was both baffled and pained by her mother’s behavior. She was not expecting her mother to apologize for all the unsavory things she had said to Elizabeth the day before, but she thought her mother would, at least, acknowledge them.
Collecting all of her emotions and binding them, Elizabeth rose and smiled. “Yes, Mother, we have much to prepare.” She had learned, long ago, not to ask for her mother’s love. Every time she had, she had been called a rebellious child who would not learn the ways of thetoneven though they would do her a world of good.
“Irene told your father and me that she never wanted to marry Guildford,” her mother confided as they walked out of the drawing room and started up the stairs in the front hall. “She should have told us earlier,” Clarice shrugged, “but at least one of my daughters is marrying the most wanted Marquess of the season.”
Elizabeth now understood the reason for the sudden change in her mother’s mood and behavior. She would have continued being cold and distant had Irene wanted to marry Rhys. Shaking her head, Elizabeth pushed the thoughts out of her mind. She had much to think about before the wedding.
* * *
Rhys stepped down from his carriage and walked up the steps of Mayton House. The morning had not gone as Rhys had planned. Elizabeth did not need to look at him for him to know what she was thinking. She had no intention of retiring as Myers, and he could not allow her to continue writing.
Revealing his knowledge of her secret had disturbed their harmony, and that was not what he had wanted to happen. He knocked on the door and waited. Elizabeth’s protection was now his responsibility, and he took all of his responsibilities with grave seriousness. The butler opened the door, and Rhys immediately asked him if his cousin was home.
Upon the butler’s affirmation, Rhys walked in and made his way to Mayton’s study, where he found him seated behind his desk, writing. Strewn about the room were crumpled sheets.
“I do not suppose this is the result of your attempt to write a story without inspiration,” Rhys said from the doorway, and Mayton stopped what he was doing to look up at him.
“I am writing to Elizabeth, but I do not quite know what to tell her,” Mayton replied, setting his quill done and rising. His expression was guarded which did not surprise Rhys because he had been expecting it. “I thought about calling upon her, but I do not wish to make her feel awkward.” He cocked his head. “Did you come to personally give me the wedding invitation?”
“I came to ensure our friendship is not broken,” Rhys replied, and his cousin’s expression immediately softened.
