“Miss Mossant, a visitor.”
Rhoda spun around. She hadn’t heard the butler slip into the room.
Lord Carlisle stood behind him. Really, what was Leo thinking? Presenting a gentleman to her without warning?
Rhoda touched her hair and smoothed her dress, feeling suddenly self-conscious. She’d donned one of her prettier gowns this morning, assuming he might make an appearance, but even so, would have appreciated a moment to prepare herself.
He looked as though he’d come straight to her from his travels, his blond wavy hair tousled, and his clothing wrinkled.
“My lord.” She dipped into a stilted curtsey. He’d kissed her five days ago as if he’d been leaving for the battlefield. At the time, she’d felt as though their souls were one. Today he appeared as though a stranger.
“Miss Mossant.” He bowed.
When she finally met his eyes, she immediately saw regret. Her heart sank. He’d changed his mind. He didn’t want to marry her after all. And yet, she knew that he would never cry off. He was far too honorable for that.
The hope she’d allowed to flicker disappeared, leaving a trail of smoke.
She gestured for him to sit upon the loveseat and lowered herself onto a stiff-backed chair facing him.
“I take it you’ve met with Father, then?” She would not make niceties with so much at stake.
Those blue eyes of his stared at her intently. He shifted forward and clasped his hands together, dangling between his knees. “I did.” Of course, he wouldn’t smile upon such an admission. Her father wasn’t exactly a person who inspired fond memories. “I also journeyed to Carlisle Manor, since it wasn’t far out of my way.”
He’d been dealt some sort of blow. Something had gone terribly wrong, and for the first time in ages, Rhoda didn’t think she was to blame.
“What is it? Are your cousins unwell?”
He shook his head and stared at the floor. “I’m afraid I…”
She could not remember any occasion when he’d been at a loss for words. Rhoda shifted uncomfortably in her seat and remained quiet.
He was going to call off. He would break their betrothal for some unknown reason and then forever carry the guilt of it.
“I was rather hasty in accepting your proposal.” She blurted the words out before he could say anything more. What was she doing? Her mother was going to kill her. She swallowed hard and ignored the regret squeezing her insides.
It wasn’t as though she loved him.
She hardly knew him.
But he’d glanced up sharply at her words. “You were what?” The sadness she felt mirrored the hurt in his eyes.
Now it was her turn to stare at the floor. “You were rather cornered by my situation—compelled to ask out of a misplaced sense of compassion and…”
“I did not ask to marry you out of compassion.” He spoke the words without delay and quite clearly.
Her head jerked up.
“You do not wish to cry off?” She studied him carefully. If she saw any doubts, she needed to release him. Cecily had been right to warn her and Emily against a hasty marriage. It was forever, regardless of the fact that Cecily had escaped hers.
Trapping oneself was one thing. Trapping another human being, quite another.
He was shaking his head. “I do not wish to cry off.” Except… She did see something in his gaze. Something unsettling.
“Did my father say something to you? Is that what has brought on your reserve?”
She’d not seen this side of him before. From the moment she’d first met him, he’d been uplifting, encouraging.
Strong. Dependable.
