He gestured toward the crumpled newspaper. “The world has already decided. They don’t care who you were with or what truly happened. You’re ruined. And I will not have your name dragged through the dirt because of me.”
“Because of you?” I exhaled harshly. “You think this is gallantry? That I need rescuing?” I forced a bitter laugh. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, Sylum, but you were there last night. You seduced me in that garden.”
He stilled. For the first time since entering the room, he truly looked at me. His gaze flicked to my mouth, bruised and trembling.
“Seduced you how?” he asked, voice low and dangerous.
Heat rushed to my cheeks. “You know exactly how.”
“Let’s pretend I don’t remember,” he said calmly, though his jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “Describe it to me.”
“We…” I hesitated, the memory rushing back with cruel vividness—the scent of smoke and brandy, the press of his lips, the dizzying warmth. “We kissed and…”
“And?” he pressed.
“I don’t remember,” I lied. “My… my bodice was undone.”
He exhaled sharply, the tension draining from his shoulders. “Then it’s decided. We’ll marry as quickly as possible.”
My throat closed. “We will not.”
He folded his arms across his chest, the gesture both weary and resolute. “We will.”
I stared at him, realizing with dread that the battle was already lost. No argument, no plea, would matter now. Society would devour me whole if I resisted. I would be destitute, forgotten… nothing.
“And what of you?” I asked softly. “What of your reputation if you marry me? Is that not whyyou chose Elizabeth over me?”
A shadow crossed his face, pain perhaps or possibly regret. “I didn’t choose Elizabeth,” he admitted quietly. “My aunt held the purse strings until I was five-and-twenty. She threatened to disown me if I didn’t marry her ward. You know I had no choice.”
He stepped closer, the air between us heavy with memory. His gloved hand lifted, tracing the faint scar along my cheek with unbearable tenderness. “And anyway, my reputation’s already stained, Lucy. One more mark will hardly matter.”
He took my hand in his, his touch cool but steady. “Whatever happened last night, whatever madness fate has spun between us, it doesn’t change the truth. I loved you once. I still do. I wrote to you every day for a year after Elizabeth’s death. You’re the one who rejected me.”
I frowned, disbelief cutting through my confusion. “Because you betrayed me.”
His eyes softened, grief flashing there for a moment. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
The words undid me. My breath caught, shallow and ragged, as he pulled me against his chest. His heart beat steady beneath my ear, warm and real… and treacherously human.
“Sylum…” I breathed, closing my eyes. My body betrayed me, melting against him even as my mind screamed a warning.
“Hmm?”
“Tell me the truth. You were there last night, weren’t you?”
He hesitated. It was a pause so small it might have been imagined. Then he lowered his head againstmine.
“I was there,” he murmured.
Dearest Reader,
You and I both know that Sylum was at the ball.
I know what you must be thinking—that I should have questioned him. That I ought to have pressed him, demanded proof, torn the truth from his lips until there was nothing left between us but honesty and ruin.
You would be right.
I am no fool, unless you count being in love as foolish.
