Eliza had thought it impossible for her heart to shatter into smaller pieces, certain she had reached the depths of her devastation. But this… this was so much worse.
“Oh God… I…” Her breaths came too rapidly and with too little air. No matter how she panted, she was suffocating!
“I should not have— It was wrong. I’ve hurt you even more.” Rose signed rapidly, each word flowing into the next in a nearly incomprehensible ramble as Eliza’s eyes blurred with tears and she struggled to breathe.
“He didn’t… There was never… It was all a lie. He never cared for me. And I let him…”
“Lizzie?”
Eliza could only gasp. Followed by another, and a third. In fact, she found herself incapable of exhaling.
“Breathe,” Rose commanded aloud. “You need to breathe.” She grasped Eliza’s cheeks between her hands, forcing her cousin’s gaze to her own while she demonstrated the process.
Slowly, painfully slowly, she was able to bring sense back to Eliza.
“I’m such a fool,” Eliza whispered, her chest agonizingly tight as she forced the words out.
“You are not a fool,” Rose retorted, returning to the familiarity of using her hands to speak. “You were in love. There is nothing less foolish.”
“How could I have been? I never knew him at all,” Eliza replied with her fingers. “Everything we— Everything I— It was all a lie.”
“Because he deceived you. You are not at fault.”
“And to think, the way I’ve spoken to my parents…” Eliza continued, not acknowledging Rose’s words. “I’ve been a wretched, petty creature.”
“What do you need? How can I help?” Rose asked.
“I hardly know, myself.”
“Despite what we know, I cannot believe Lord Sinclair’s interest in you was entirely false. The way he looked at you during your dances… I’ve made a study of faces—he was enchanted.”
Eliza shook her head, unwilling to receive Rose’s platitudes. “I do not believe that—not with what I know now. No, he is merely theton’s best actor.”
“Oh, Lizzie… Please, was I wrong to tell you?”
“No, no, I needed to know.” Eliza shook her head. The tears streamed down her face faster for the effort.
“Can I fetch you tea? Or a biscuit? Tell me how to help you,” Rose begged.
“I should like to rest,” Eliza said after a moment’s consideration. “Thank you.”
“If you’re certain…” Rose replied, her hands hesitant.
Eliza nodded, then turned to curl back up on her bed without another word. Her cousin’s steps echoed on the floor before the door creaked open. The click of the latch signaled her returned solitude.
Only then did Eliza allow the silent, burning tears to fall in earnest as she made herself a vow. These would be the last tears she ever cried over Benedict Sinclair—he hadn’t deserved the ones he’d already received, and he would get no more from her after today.
No man would.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Benedict’s dayswere chiefly occupied by the greenhouse. It had the benefit of being somewhere his father would never deign to venture. So, naturally, Benedict chose to spend most of his time there. The project was vast and expensive. He winced, recalling the cost of the new glass, as he chipped away the broken panes with a hammer. He steadfastly refused to consider the other rising expenses as he worked, nor to give countenance to the hundreds of places where those funds might be better spent.
He’d given up Eliza for Blackwood. He wasn’t about to abandon the only hint of purpose he’d found since the moment he stopped kissing her. The estate might be Benedict’s legacy, butthiswas the only place untouched by his father’s hatred. This would belong to Benedict long after Ambrose Sinclair left this earth for his eternal torment.
Benedict had taken to leaving the house at first light. Alice, one of the few servants who hadn’t abandoned the manor, refused to put forth the extra effort necessary to bring him a meal. He couldn’t fault her—she was more than overworked already. So he had to return to the house for sustenance at leastonce each day. Aside from those brief moments, he remained in the greenhouse long after dark.
The day after he found the greenhouse, Benedict rode to Bodmin and purchased a small pot. Its creator had decorated the vessel with vines growing from the rim and had added tiny purple flowers—five petals each—between the leaves and vines. The decorative vessel was more costly than the plain, unadorned pots beside it. An extravagance he wouldn’t usually allow himself, but those violets…
