“The next thing I knew,” she continued, her voice breaking, “he had left for the Continent. I didn’t understand what had happened! I thought I must have imagined the whole thing. That he mustn’t have cared for me after all!”
Her father held her tight. “I’m sorry, Rosie. I’m so, so sorry. Oh, this is all my fault! How I wish I had told you! How I wish I had… well. I wish I had done a number of things differently.”
They stayed that way for a time, with Rosalie quietly sobbing and her father murmuring apologies into her hair. Rosalie hadn’t realized it was possible to feel so many emotions simultaneously. Toward her father, anger and love in equal measures. To be sure, he had blundered and blundered badly. But he had not meant badly at the time, nor realized the full extent of his mistake. And his regret was clearly sincere. Rosalie was upset with him now, and she felt that she had a right to be. But she also knew that this would not permanently damage their bond.
Toward Lucian, she felt a mixture of annoyance and confusion. Why had he told her those hurtful lies? If he had simply told her the truth, she could have reasoned with her father. All of the heartache of the past two years and the anxiety of the past two weeks could have been avoided.
And yet, intermixed with the annoyance and confusion, Rosalie felt… hope. Because there was one possible explanation for the day he had broken her heart that had always seemed so absurd, Rosalie had not even allowed herself to hope that it might be true. That Lucian had cared for her all along. That the horrid things he said to her in that orangery were the lies, and everything else had been the truth.
Now, there was a faint glimmer of hope that the impossible was possible after all.
Once she had regained a bit of composure, Rosalie dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. “I must return to Deverell House. I slipped out the back door with Robin. Nobody knows where I went. I don’t want Lucian to worry.”
“Of course.” Her father drew back and pressed a kiss against the top of her head. “Let me summon the carriage.”
During the short drive back to Deverell House, Rosalie rehearsed what she would say to Lucian. She was going to be calm and collected. They were going to have an open, honest, rational conversation about what had occurred and figure out how they could move forward with their marriage.
Thus resolved, she climbed down from the carriage and mounted the steps to Deverell House.
Collins was not manning the door. It was opened by a footman instead. “It’s Lady Rosalie! She’s back, my lord!” he cried, disabusing her of any illusions that her absence had gone unnoticed.
Dressed in his banyan and slippers, Lucian was sitting in a chair in the middle of the foyer, which was odd. He was leaningforward with his head cradled in his hands. He did not seem to have heard the footman’s announcement, but after a moment, he looked up.
“Rosalie!” he croaked, surging to his feet. His eyes were slightly wild, and in that moment, she saw something. She saw that he had not merely been worried, but had been frantic at her absence. She saw the relief in his eyes that she was back, blended with fear of the reason she had left.
Most of all, she saw that the thought that something had happened to her had caused him genuine distress.
Something shifted inside of her. Ever since he returned, she had been clinging to a thread as thin as a spider’s web, holding on to hope that somehow, she had been wrong these past two years, and Lucian cared for her after all.
For the first time, she did not have to hope. Sheknew. For the first time, she believed he cared about her from the depths of her soul.
He had cared all along. Suddenly, she was overwhelmed by the amount of time they had wasted. They could have been together these past two years! She could have been incandescently happy, rather than sad and lonely!
Except he had not trusted her enough to tell her the truth.
Lucian took a stumbling step toward her. “Rosalie. Darling. What’s?—”
“Youliedto me!” she snapped, tears pricking in her eyes once more.
So much for calm and collected. Her hands might be trembling, and she might be spilling over like a watering pot.
But on one point, she was still resolved—they were going to get to the bottom of that night. They were going to be honest with one another.
And they were going to mend their marriage in a way that would last.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Youliedto me!”
Lucian’s heart sank like a stone. In truth… he had. He had lied to her so many times.
But not since his return, damn it! He’d been trying so hard to fix everything that he had broken. Which, admittedly, was a lot.
But whatever she thought he’d done, he was fairly certain he had not done it. He’d been good, for once in his misbegotten life!
“Not since my return,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I swear. Please, Rosalie—tell me what I’ve done. We can fix this. I know we can.”
She glowered at him. “You’re bloody well right, we’re going to fix it!”
