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“Don’t you believe me? I still love you, Rhys. More than ever.”
“I know. I know. And I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” After scrubbing his face with one hand, he propped his chin on his palm. “You tell me you love me. I know in my mind that should make things better.” He looked up at her. “Shouldn’t it? I mean, it’s the one thing I’ve waited my whole life to hear. And now that you’ve whispered those three little words, my anger should disappear, and the hurting should stop, and rainbows should burst through the clouds and a choir of angels should sing.” His eyes glimmered with emotion as his fingertip traced the curve of her jaw. “Against all odds, this beautiful, clever, strong woman loves me. My life should be put to rights.”
“But it isn’t,” she said.
Shaking his head, he withdrew his touch. “It isn’t. You keep saying you love me. And it cuts deeper every blessed time. It hurts, Merry. I can’t understand it, but it hurts like hell. Those words … they make me want to hit things, lash out in anger.” He swore again, balling his hands into fists. “Something’s wrong with me. Too many things are wrong with me.”
“And I’m partly to blame. You can’t forgive me.”
“It’s nothing to do with blame or forgiveness. It’s about brokenness. I can’t risk hurting you.”
With a gruff sigh, he rose to his feet. “I should go.”
From the bed, she reached out and caught his hand. “Stay awhile. It’s not dawn yet. If it’s hard for you, we don’t need to talk.”
“Yes, we do. Need to talk.” He turned and crouched at the side of the mattress. His eyes were thoughtful as they roamed the knot of their joined hands. “I’ve done some good here, I think. The cottage is your father’s to do with as he pleases. I’ll see that his pension is restored. The men will finish the inn, and you’ll have the posting horses, I promise. And I’ll pay for the damage to the tavern.”
“I’m not concerned about the inn, you fool man. I’m concerned about you.” Her voice cracked.“Rhys. Stop acting like this is the end. You can’t do this to me now. What happened to all that talk of destiny? I’m your fate, and you’re mine?”
After pressing a firm kiss to her knuckles, he rested his brow to their joined hands. “I swear to you. If any woman could make it right, make me whole—it would be you. But I’m just too broken, Merry. It’s too late for me. I wish to God that weren’t the case, but—”
“Don’t say it. Don’t.”
He wiped a tear from her cheek. “Some things just aren’t meant to be.”
Chapter Twenty-four
“I thought your home county was forbidding,” Bellamy said, squinting at the coach’s small window. “This makes it seem right cheery in comparison. Is it just coincidence, Ashworth, or does a depressing fogactuallyfollow you around?”
Rhys didn’t answer. Forget the fog. He felt like a damned thundercloud rumbled within his chest. His heart seethed with thick, churning, violent emotion. Hurt, confusion, anger. And though he’d only left her a half day ago, he missed Meredith so much he could scarcely breathe. But he had to put distance between them. He couldn’t let her get caught in the storm.
Absently, he worked his tongue against a cut inside his upper lip. The tang of blood helped him focus. The coppery taste coaxed a strange feeling in him, one vaguely akin to nostalgia. Just as that fisticuffs with Myles yesterday had given him a clarity of sorts. The dealing and taking of blows—this was what he did, what he knew so very well. He’d been raised to it, after all. It was the family trade.
“Tell me about Faraday. Is he big?” Rhys hoped so. He didn’t like pounding on small ones.
Bellamy shrugged. “He’s much like me, as Cora remarked.”
Arching a brow, Rhys studied his companion with fresh interest. With an uneasy glance, Bellamy made a defensive shift down the seat.
“Then he’ll do,” Rhys said.
“Good.” Bellamy tugged at his cuff. “It should have occurred to me months ago. At first, I thought Morland had arranged the murder. He wanted the Stud Club tokens, and he was there in the card room the night Leo and I made plans to attend the boxing match.”
“But Morland had nothing to do with it.” Rhys frowned. He thought they’d put this argument to rest in Gloucestershire.
“I know that now. And that’s when I realized, for every token Morland collected, somewhere there was an angry former member of the Club. So I went through them all, making inquiries as to their whereabouts the night of the murder. I missed Faraday at first, because everyone seemed to think he’d left Town days earlier. Even his house staff confirmed it.”
“But he hadn’t.”
“No. And he knew about the boxing match. It was Faraday’s token Morland won that night. We were all watching them play. After Faraday lost, Leo—sporting fellow that he was—pumped Morland’s hand, congratulated him on a game well-played. Faraday masked it well, but I could tell he was furious. When he announced his intent to head for the country immediately, we assumed he was out of funds. Never thought to question it. Finally, on my third round of inquiries, one of the footmen spilled the truth. Peter Faraday hadn’t left Town until two days after Leo’s death.” He swore. “He has to be the one.”
“Let’s hope Cora can identify him with certainty.”
The girl lay reclined on the front-facing seat, sleeping heavily. At least, Rhys thought it safe to assume she was asleep, because he didn’t know any woman who would willingly display herself in front of two gentlemen with her mouth agape. This actual slumber came after she’d merelypretendedto doze her way out of Devonshire and across Bodmin Moor. Her eyes hadn’t met his since they’d left the Three Hounds. She was back to being afraid of him, and Rhys couldn’t say he blamed her one bit.
The whole village would fear him again. He’d never forget looking up from Gideon Myles’s bleeding face to find the bar destroyed and the assembled residents of Buckleigh-in-the-Moor staring at him in collective horror. And there, in the center of them all, his lovely Meredith … her face bleached to the shade of bone, and spattered with blood. Just the memory was enough to make his stomach turn and his head throb with pain. In all his wretched life, he’d never felt more monstrous.
“There’s the sun,” Bellamy said. “Thank God.”
