“I will go. Unless you ask me to stay.”
Her breath shook violently.
“I won’t,” she said.
“I know.”
He turned toward the door. She felt an awful, traitorous pull inside her chest—an urge to call him back. She crushed it.
At the threshold, he paused.
“But Violet,” he said softly, “I am here. And I will prove that I can be better than the man who wronged you. I will show you I am not the man who failed you then.”
He bowed his head once—quiet, respectful—and stepped outside.
The door clicked behind him.
And Violet was left standing in her quiet cottage—shaking, furious, undone.
Her hands curled into fists at her sides, nails biting into her palms.
“Damn you,” she whispered.
But even she didn’t know whether she meant him—
or herself.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The stables behind Hamilton House were warm and dim, the late-afternoon sun slanting through the high windows. The muted sounds—hooves shifting, a low snort from one of the horses—met him as he stepped inside.
He found Thomas Hayes near the last stall, brushing down one of the horses with slow, steady strokes. The older man didn’t look up at first; he finished the task, set the brush aside, and only then lifted his head.
Their eyes met. For a heartbeat, neither spoke.
Thomas straightened, dusting his palms together. “Lord Ashford.”
“Mr. Hayes.”
William drew a breath. “I was hoping to speak with you.”
Thomas gave a single nod and leaned against the stall door. “Then speak.”
William had faced diplomats, ministers, and aristocrats with sharpened tongues—had even stood in audience before Her Majesty herself more than once—but nothing felt as daunting as the steady scrutiny of the man whose daughter he had ruined.
Thomas watched him in silence. When William didn’t speak, he went on.
“If you’ve come for Violet’s sake,” Thomas said, “I’ll listen. If you’ve come to explain yourself—save your breath. I’ve no use for your excuses.”
He swallowed.
“I’ve none to give.”
A flicker of surprise crossed Thomas’s face.
He’d rehearsed every word on the way to the stables, turning them over again and again.
Now, standing before Violet’s father, none of it seemed enough.
