She straightened up and walked down the hall toward the opposite wing of the house and her own room. There Celia slept. Celia, who had shown the truth about her heart tonight, even if she later tried to deny it.
Rosalinde had spent her life living by her own heart. Celia had suffered for it. She was still suffering for it. So the best thing she could do now was set her love for Gray aside and focus on what her sister needed.
Even if it meant betraying just a little of what Gray had told her tonight.
Gray stared at the door where Rosalinde had exited and his entire body felt numb. She was gone. He could tell himself she had only left his room, that he would see her tomorrow, and that was true.
But her leaving meant more than that and they both knew it. She had asked him a question about the future and he had remained silent. He saw how that hurt her. Still, she had steadied herself in the pain and found the strength to accept his unspoken rejection. She hadn’t raged at him, as some women in her position would. She hadn’t threatened him, even though their affair could have easily been used to twist him to her will.
No, she had done none of those things. Because she was Rosalinde. Living life with her open heart, but never taking more than what was freely given.
What was strange was that when she’d asked the question about the future, his silence hadn’t actuallybeena rejection. It had truly been born from confusion.
He’d spent the eight years since his father died building himself up—and watching his siblings be torn apart. Those two facts had merged together and made him into what he was. He shunned connection and had done his level best to block out passion and even emotion because he’d seen how weak those things could make a person. Because he thought he’d be in control if he never let anything or anyone past the walls he’d built.
And yet Rosalinde Wilde had breached those walls with just the tilt of a smile, the touch of a hand, a sigh of pleasure. She was inside now. And it terrified him.
So when she had asked about the future, he’d had no answer because he didn’t know what to do or say. He could offer her safety and security, certainly. His fortune was growing nearly every day. But she wasn’t asking about safety and security. She was asking for feelings he had long packed away. Ones he didn’t know if he could find or share.
Earlier that very day, he had told himself he had to let her go, to keep her from feeling the very pain that had flickered across her face when he was silent in the face of her question. He had failed in doing that.
And yet her reaction had been to lethimgo. She had released him with her goodbye, released him from the connection she thought he didn’t want. He should have been happy for that.
And instead, he stared at the door, completely unable to find the strength to go after her. To change his answer. To be the kind of man who was worthy of her heart. Worthy of her future. Worthy of more than the stolen moments they had taken since they first met.
Knowing he had lost something precious.
Chapter Nineteen
Gray took a long breath as he entered the breakfast room the next morning. For over a week, the house had only contained the two families, so Gray had been able to brood if he wished, without too many eyes on him.
But this morning, just two days before his brother would wed, the house was now stuffed full of guests. When he entered, his name was called out by more than one person as hands were lifted in greeting.
“Good morning,” he said to the group, hearing the rasp to his voice, the strain he was trying to hide.
Stenfax was already at the head of the table with their mother on one side and Celia on the other. The intendeds were not speaking to each other as they sat, and Gray frowned. There was proof once again of what Rosalinde had said the night before. Proof that the two cared little for each other. God, if it were him marrying Rosalinde in two days, he wouldn’t be able to stop looking at her. Touching her, even in passing.
He jolted. Where had that damned thought come from? He’d spent a night tossing and turning as he relived her question about the future over and over. Now he was imagining one that didn’t exist.
“You look tired,” Felicity said, suddenly at his elbow.
He turned to face her. “I—yes, I didn’t sleep well.”
She tilted her head and examined him more closely. “I am worried about you, Gray. You haven’t been yourself lately. Are you still determined that Lucien is making a mistake?”
Gray stared again at his brother. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “My mind is a jumble on the topic.”
Felicity pursed her lips. “He’s grown, Gray. You must allow him to make his own decisions.”
Gray squeezed his eyes shut. Felicity didn’t understand. Luciencouldn’tmake decisions because he was being denied information, both about Elise and about Celia. Gray’s head spun with all the possibilities. Should he break up the wedding or make damned sure it happened? Should he tell his brother the truth about Elise? Or was it Celia? Or was it himself?
“Gray?” Felicity said, and her voice sounded very far away. The world was beginning to spin and Gray felt like he was drowning, drowning.
“Good morning.”
Air filled his lungs again as a voice cut into his spinning mind. Rosalinde’s voice. He turned toward it, toward her, like she was a lighthouse beacon guiding him to safety through the fog. She stood in the doorway to the breakfast room in a dark blue gown that made her eyes look like sapphires. She was smiling, but he knew her now. He knew that smile was empty.
It was also never turned on him. She didn’t even look at him as she entered, greeting guests before she went to her sister and kissed her cheek, acknowledged Gray’s mother and brother, then took a seat beside her grandfather. She was stiff in her posture as she said hello to him. Gray could see the contempt dripping from her.
