“But what am I to tell these fathers? In exchange for a truce, I’ll likely have to give them my word that you will leave London, perhaps England. Are you willing? Will you honor any concessions that I make on your behalf in order to avoid the duels?”
Flavion’s head was in his hands again. “I’ve made a hash of everything, haven’t I? The estates? The dowry? Daphne… Alice…” An abrupt sob caught hold of him for a moment before he could continue speaking. “Of course I will honor any concessions. But — God, Stephen, don’t make me go to the Colonies. I can’t live in the wilderness. Paris maybe… since the wars are over…”
“Very well,” Stephen responded, resigned to this very unfortunate of tasks. “You are certain you wish to fight with swords?”
Flavion thought for a moment. “Swords with the baron and pistols with the colonel. Bloody hell, Stephen, if I’m going to take a hit, it might as well be a quick one.”
Stephen raised his brows and stared his cousin in the eyes. “You mustn’t think like that.” At his cousin’s silence, he rose. “Get over to White’s and do some light sparring. Nothing strenuous, but reacquaint yourself with the feel of the sword in your hand. And when you are done, return here. Tonight we’ll discuss the negotiations, and hopefully you can avoid either one or both of these challenges.” At Flavion’s nod, Stephen turned on his heels and called out to Sherman for his coat and hat.
It seemed the day’s work had barely begun.
Cecily wondered thatshe had still had a heart to break. She’d thought she’d experienced pain when Flavion hurt her, but that had been very different from what she felt now. With Flavion, she had experienced the death of her girlhood dreams. The fantasy of love she’d believed she’d felt for him had been shattered. She’d been betrayed, cheated, and humiliated. She now realized that she hadn’t, in fact, been heartbroken.
That experience had been saved for today.
Stephen’s withdrawal from her caused a different devastation altogether. When one’s heart broke, one could hardly breathe. She didn’t evenwantto breathe. Why would she want to carry on in a life without Stephen Nottingham?
Flopping onto her bed, she closed her eyes and allowed the pain of his rejection to seep through her body. It was in her chest, her throat, her arms, her fingertips. She felt it all over.
She wished she’d never heard the name Nottingham.
No, that wasn’t strictly true. As much as she experienced the loss of him now, she would not sacrifice her memory of what they’d shared.
This was love.
Having come to understand Stephen Nottingham, she knew in her heart that he would haunt himself with guilt over what they’d done for years to come. He believed he owed his uncle a debt — a debt he’d never be able to fully repay.
And now he probably imagined he owed one to his cousin as well. For he had made love to Flavion’s wife.
Except that she did not feel like a wife. Especially not to Flavion. He’d discarded her far too quickly for her to have even begun to feel like his wife.
Legally, though — technically — she was an adulteress.
This thought caused her to sit up. She did not feel guilty in the least. Well, except for where Stephen was concerned. Because she knew that he felt guilty, and that was because of her.
And then another epiphany hit her.
She was no longer angry with Flavion.
She stood up and walked over to the door adjoining her suite with Flave’s. He hadn’t been around at all this past week, but there were sounds within his chamber now.
She knocked softly and then pushed the door open. Flavion was lying down on the sofa in his sitting room. He looked horrible.
“Flave?”
He lay with one arm covering his face. He did not look at her. “Hello, Cecily,” he responded without any real emotion.
It was very rude of him not to rise when she’d entered, but she supposed they were beyond that courtesy. He’d not really treated her like a lady since their… wedding. Why would he start now?
She tentatively stepped in and took a seat on the edge of a velvet-covered chair.
“I wanted to let you know…” she said quietly, “…I forgive you.”
At this, Flavion turned his head and regarded her with shadowed eyes. He looked even more handsome than when he was dressed to the nines. His beard and sullenness brought out a rakish look in him she hadn’t known him to possess before.
It had little effect on her, if any. She merely felt sorry for him.
“So you’ve heard about the duels then?” he said.
