The look in her eyes when he’d stepped back—hurt, confusion, want—was burned into his memory. Christ, he wanted her. Had wanted to kiss her properly, to show her exactly how he felt about Julian Fane’s threats, to promise her with his body what his words couldn’t express.
Instead, he’d been noble. Honorable. It felt like hell.
The door creaked open. Digby stepped inside, impeccably dressed despite the hour.
“Shall I draw your bath, my lord?”
“No.” James reached for the brandy on the side table and poured a generous measure. “Just leave me to my misery.”
Digby moved to stoke the fire, the familiar scrape of iron against stone filling the silence. “Might I venture that the evening didn’t go as planned?”
James let out a harsh laugh. “I had the woman I’m half-mad for in my arms, and I walked away.”
“Ah.” Digby arranged tomorrow’s clothes with quiet precision. “And you regret the walking away?”
“I regret everything. Walking away, not walking away sooner, letting myself care for her in the first place.” James took a burning sip of brandy. “She deserves better than a man who wakes screaming from nightmares.”
“And yet she chooses to sit beside you every evening. To trust you with her sister’s future. To confide her darkest fears.”
“Because she doesn’t know what I really am.”
Digby paused in his work. “What are you, my lord?”
The question caught James off guard. “A man with blood on his hands. A man who’s seen too much darkness.”
“I see a man who’s clawed his way out of ruin with nothing but grit and honor. A man who remembers every name in the village and would throw himself in front of a carriage to save a stranger.” Digby’s voice was gentle but firm. “That’s what Mrs. Fairfax sees too.”
James stared into the fire. “What if I break her? She’s been through hell already.”
“What if you heal each other?” Digby stepped forward, his expression unusually serious. “Whom we love is not really in our control, my lord. But what might truly hurt her is words that are never spoken, feelings never expressed. Love that is never given a chance to bloom.”
“You sound like you speak from experience.”
A shadow crossed Digby’s face. “I let someone special marry another because I was too afraid to show her who I really was. Love has no use for cowards, my lord. None at all.”
The admission hung in the air between them. James studied his valet with new understanding.
“She said she’d still want me tomorrow,” James said quietly.
“Then perhaps you should believe her.”
James nodded slowly, feeling something settle in his chest. Tomorrow he would deal with Julian Fane. And tomorrow he would stop running from what he felt for Georgiana.
“Thank you, Digby.”
“It is my honor to serve, my lord. In all things.”
As Digby quietly left the room, James remained by the fire, planning. Julian Fane had made his first mistake by showing himself today. James would make sure it was his last.
*
The next morning,James rose to a note from his brother, informing him that he would be calling upon him later that morning. He had arrived in Town two days prior and was looking forward to seeing him.
The sisters had all gone out to look at the shops and buy a few last-minute items for the ball they were to attend that evening and Lavinia had accepted a luncheon invitation, leaving him alone to await Sebastian’s visit. It was late morning by the time he arrived, announced by Mr. Isherwood. James rose as he entered, delighted to see him. He embraced his brother warmly.
“It’s good to see you,” James said. “I’ll ring for tea. How is Rose?”
“She sends her warmest regards and deep apologies that she couldn’t come herself,” Sebastian said, settling into a chair near the fire. “She’s keeping to her chambers these days, but she insisted I bring you this.” He handed James a small wrapped package. “And she made me promise to tell her everything about Mrs. Fairfax and her sister.”
