“I’m not going to seduce you. Christ, I’m not explaining this well. You, presumably, find many ladies handsome. But you do not desire them the way you do your wife? It is the same for me.”
“But you desire Tom. In that way.”
Did I? I wasn’t entirely sure how Lord Grayson felt about his wife. But I’d made a mockery of this conversation thus far. I couldn’t very well question him further on his sentiments toward his wife. “Yes,” I settled on.
“And he… desires you in the same way.”
“You would have to ask him.”
“And thesedesiresare strong enough to risk your reputation, your family’s reputation, your title, your life?”
“Not historically, no. Tom is very... Imagine, for a moment, that you weren’t married to Lady Grayson. That you could never marry her. Ever. That you could never share a life with her. That you couldn’t offer her the protection of your name and your body. That you would have to spend every day for the rest of your life dreaming of what it would be like if only you could press your lips against hers. And you would know that nothing would change. Every day would be the same torture, until the day you die. That even wanting to touch her would lead to your ruin, your family’s ruin, her ruin. And you knew she felt the same, that being apart from you was causing her the same anguish it was causing you.”
He swallowed, jaw flexing. With no response forthcoming, I continued. “Now, swear to me that you wouldn’t slip up. Ever.That your eyes wouldn’t meet across a crowded room and cause your will to break.”
For a long moment, he considered me, silent and still. Without warning he jolted forward, turning to sit beside me. His elbows met knees with his head bowed.
“I… That must be difficult,” he said to his shoes. “But you must know I cannot allow this. We—I am not a duke. I have nothing like your wealth. There are things that thetonmight be willing to overlook from you that they will not forgive Tom for. And I cannot allow that to happen to him.”
“Iamleaving. Truly. I am bound for Scotland and I do not anticipate a return. I’ll leave. And he will forget me. He’s young.”
“He is the same age I was when I wed Kate.”
“Precisely, far too young,” I teased gently.
“I think you should go. There is a back gate through there,” he added, gesturing toward the other side of the house. “I will make your excuses if anyone asks after you.”
“All right. Would you, can you pass a message on to T—Mr. Grayson for me?”
His gaze met mine for the first time in several minutes. There was a sorrow to his molten silver eyes. “I do not think that would be wise. A clean break, I think, would be best.”
My stomach sank but I nodded. “Very well.”
I stood and made my way to the indicated gate, legs heavy with pooled blood.
“Good luck in Scotland,” Lord Grayson whispered behind me.
I nodded, not bothering to face him, as I slipped the rusted latch free. The gate didn’t swing open; instead, it groaned with disuse both opening and closing. My heart joined in its protest.
Sixteen
40 BLOOMSBURY ST, LONDON - JUNE 30, 1816
TOM
The fervencywith which I was avoiding Hugh was truly impressive.
It used to be a regular event—avoiding one or the other of my brothers. But not like this.
I hadn’t left my apartments in days, instead pacing, drinking—tea and whiskey in equal measure—trying and failing to read, and reliving the life-changing moment when Alexander Hasket, Duke of Rosehill’s lips met mine. And cringing when I reached the end of that memory and Hugh’s shocked, horrified voice washed over me like frozen rain.
How was it possible to have your greatest wish and your worst nightmare wrapped into one shining, rotting memory?
The kiss—it had been the culmination of weeks, months, years of moments between Xander and me, coincidental and contrived. And it had been everything I’d ever wanted. It was heart and heat, sweet and sensual, raw and restrained. And Hugh, stodgy, proper Hugh, destroyed it.
After he’d ordered me inside with all the lofty, formidable viscount he could infuse in his tone, I slipped out of Grayson House and into the night.
No word of a duel between an imperious viscount and an unlikely duke appeared in the papers—so at least their conversation hadn’t come to blows. And Mother hadn’t seen fit to grace my humble abode with her presence—presumably he hadn’t told her either. Perhaps Hugh was content to never see me again. Or more likely he had reverted to his former problem-solving method which involved ignoring the problem until it resolved itself or exploded in his face.
