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She closed her eyes for a moment, holding back the tears she refused to allow to fall. He might claim not to doubt her, but in this moment she doubted everything. No. Not any more. No relying on others when she should find her own way, no relying on men to steer her course, letting her life be run by them.
It was time to be on her own, because she realised now she would have given Lance everything and left nothing of herself.
‘I’ll leave this afternoon.’ She’d been raised to be a queen, to control her emotions. She would not let this overcome her. ‘I’ve clearly outstayed my welcome and I shall leave you to your life.’
‘There’s no—’
Sara held up her hand. She mustered all the cold disdain he’d shown to her. ‘Let’s not be any more of a disappointment, shall we? How’s this as a new moniker, Lance—the Disappointing Duke? I think it has quite the appeal.’
She turned, straightened her spine as her royal training had taught her and walked away from the man she’d thought she loved, the old diamonds of her engagement ring cutting into her palm as she did so.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SARAWANDEREDTHEdamp cobbled streets of Morenburg old town after the end of an early shift at the palace. She drifted through the antique markets on the way to her apartment. Sadly, on this dreary late-autumn day, they held no interest. A shard of pain sliced through her, a reminder of the things she tried to forget. On most days it was more like a bruise, dull and deep. But here, amongst all the sellers and the antiques and people looking for treasure, the universe liked to remind her of what she’d lost.
The breeze picked up, cutting into her. A distracting kind of sensation prickled the back of her neck. She wrapped her coat more tightly round her to ward off the chill. It seemed colder than normal. The rest of the crowd bustled round her, people laughing, going about their lives. Her life seemed permanently on hold now, when in truth she wastryingto move forwards, after moving back home with a healthy bank balance and little more, to a country which didn’t feel like hers any longer.
She’d left home behind in a person, not a place.
Now, everything reminded her of a man she couldn’t have. A man who, she’d come to realise, after days of sobbing and self-recrimination, didn’t love himself enough to love her the way she deserved. Sara had taken a while to accept that certainty. After his cruelty to her, pushing her away only hours after it seemed as if he wanted her closer. None of it had made sense, except that vicious voice in her head that told her she’d never have his heart. But after time away other memories apart from those of that awful last day invaded her consciousness.
How he’d protected her. How he worried for his sister. His staff, who loved him even if it didn’t seem he could reciprocate. The villagers who spoke of his enduring care and kindness. How he’d always tried to keep her smiling, even when she’d wanted to curl into a ball and weep. If she could ignore his cruel words, that she was now sure had been designed to force her away, his had been theactionsof a good man. The truths others believed were self-evident, Lance couldn’t see for himself. That he simply wasn’t the Dastardly Duke he pretended to be.
And in the end her heartbreak became more about his loss than hers. If Lance couldn’t accept that he was a good man with the capacity to love, he’d never accept it from someone else. Having experienced being in love, Sara couldn’t imagine now living without it in her life. But sadly, two months after she’d walked away from Astill Hall, she still had trouble contemplating her world without Lance in it. Still, some things you couldn’t have, no matter how much you wanted them...
She sighed. There was no point to these ruminations. Not any more. Sara made her way through the milling crowds, past a kitschy tourist shop selling royal memorabilia. She hesitated. Little Lauritanian flags adorned the window, pictures of the still new yet quickly beloved King and Queen adorned random items on display—mugs, eggcups, tins of sweets. Then there were items commemorating the deceased King, Queen and Crown Prince, the past and the present colliding. One of those portraits could have been her, and she didn’t even have a twinge of loss at the thought of what might have been. That sense of lost opportunity was for another person entirely.
A shadow passed her shoulder. Another prickle of awareness, this time hinting someone was close. Even though she’d tried to melt into obscurity, people still saw her as a minor celebrity here. The death of her fiancé and failed fake engagement meant she was a kind of tragic heroine. The woman who would have been Queen, still looking for love.
Sara took a deep breath, pasted a smile on her face. Prepared herself for the questions from a public that was mostly caring, if not sometimes intrusive. She looked up and glimpsed a tall, broad reflection in the glass of the shop window that choked the breath from her lungs.
‘Ferdinand really was a fool, and not the only one.’
That voice. Her knees buckled, before she firmed them, her heart tripping then pounding. She took a long, steadying breath. It should probably have been no surprise that he was here. She’d heard the rumour that he was back in the country, had known he was working with the royal family, auctioning unwanted items from the palace, since the country’s finances had been in a shockingly bad state and Lise and Rafe had been fighting to restore the economy.
‘It’s wrong to speak ill of the dead,’ she said. Part of her craved a glimpse of him in the flesh, and another part knew she should leave well enough alone. But it was as if everything around her had stopped. The cold breeze, the sounds of people going about their lives. In this moment there was only her and him, as if the universe was waiting. And she couldn’t ignore Lance any longer.
She turned, forgetting the full force of him.
He looked as heart-stopping as she remembered. More so. The curve of his bottom lip that had obsessed her for so long, had haunted her dreams. The green eyes that seemed to peer into the very soul of her. His jaw, now shaded with fashionable stubble. A man who knew more of her secrets, her desires, than any person alive.
But it didn’t matter. He’d been clear that they had no future together, and she deserved more from life, someone who could love her with his whole heart, even if right now she couldn’t contemplate loving anyone at all. Other than Lance, of course. But part of her hated him too, for playing on her fears. For having made her believe, once again, that she was somethingless.Before she’d realised that she had a future and a value.
That she was enough.
‘I’m only speaking the truth. You know I can be cruel. Whereas you’re too kind.’
Today he was dressed as if for business, standing there in a dark coat over a suit. No tie, the neck of his perfect bespoke shirt open, showing a tantalising hint of his chest, a sprinkling of hair. She was taken back to the times when she’d rested her head there, listening to the thump of his comforting heartbeat as it lulled her to sleep.
‘It’s not a bad thing to be kind, but it can be misplaced.’ She shrugged. ‘I think you believed the greatest act of kindness was your cruelty.’
‘The Despicable Duke.’ His eyes tightened, but otherwise his face remained blank. ‘I told you they were right.’
He still underestimated himself, perhaps always would. And no matter how much she’d wanted a future with him, there would be none so long as he pitched himself as a bad man. Because in his mind he’d never truly deserved her love.
She shook her head.
‘Still trying to find the good in me?’ he asked.
