The image of her, broken and lost, ate at his soul. When he’d first come to London, before she’d known he was here, she had appeared carefree, confident. She’d walked proudly down the sidewalk. She had been happy.
Since he’d come back into her life, he’d torn all of that down.
“How can I ever trust you again? I’d always wonder…”
He’d believed they were worth fighting for. God, he’d been a fool. For two years, he’d held onto the memories they’d made together… such a simple time. They’d known one another for barely a week.
And all the while, just as he’d thought he wanted, she’d been doing her best to forget him––to forget the two of them together. She’d fought to make a life for herself and to find some peace and contentment.
He’d hoped she’d kept her love for him alive but perhaps he’d been wrong. Perhaps she had successfully purged it, after all.
He’d left her, thinking that was for the best. He’d left her so that exactly this would happen. So that she would hate him and move on with her life. And she’d done just that. She was over him.
He wondered if he would ever be over her.
He doubted it.
She would always be hisPrincesse.
Chapter 20
Chance
Birds sang, the sun was shining and for a London day, the sky was surprisingly blue. Chance noticed none of it. He’d never been more uncomfortable in his own skin. Defeat was not something he was accustomed to.
It was not until he was a few houses away from Aubrey’s when he realized he was wearing the same suit he’d worn at Hannah’s funeral.
Today, almost even more so, felt like a funeral—a death.
Carrying a bouquet of flowers, he knocked at her door and Carrington opened it within seconds. “Is she here?” Chance met the butler’s eyes.
“She is. She is having an ‘at home.’” Chance easily noticed concern on his former butler’s features.
“It’s all right. You needn’t worry. I’ll only be a moment.”
Mr. Carrington pursed his lips but then nodded and gestured for Chance to enter. “The small drawing room, Your Grace.”
The temperature in the foyer was warm—too warm. Chance ran his fingers beneath the cravat tied around his neck. It was the end of May and most members of the ton would be leaving London soon. Although Chance dreaded this meeting, he also wanted to have it over with. Hollis was right, he’d dragged this out long enough already.
He followed the low murmurs from down the corridor and paused outside the entrance. Nearly a dozen guests sat inside, drinking tea and making conversation. It did not take long before he was noticed.
“Your Grace,” Dandy Dick—Mr. Cline—rose and greeted him with outstretched hand. An investigator had sent Chance a report the day before. Apparently, Richard Cline was flush after all. He was not a con man. The dandy’s intentions for Aubrey were honorable after all. Chance ought to have given her more credit for her judgement.
Despite the fact that she’d trusted him. Long ago.
Without having to look far, Chance’s gaze landed immediately on Aubrey. She sat at the far end of the room. The bright smile she’d had fell when her eyes met his. Was she concerned that he’d ruin her ‘at home,’ just as he’d ruined her life?
“A word, Mrs. Bloomington, and I’ll be on my way.” His voice sounded loud to his own ears. The others didn’t even pretend to mind their own business.
“Won’t you join us?” This from Mr. Cline.
Without moving his eyes from Aubrey, Chance shook his head. “I haven’t time, thank you. I came to say goodbye.”
She needed to know that he was serious. Surely, she must realize.
At his words she rose and made a few excuses to those sitting around her. He ought to have known, she was the center of attention, as she ought to be.
“Shall we go outside?” She asked once they stepped outside and moved toward the foyer.
