Her father had the gall to laugh at that and slap Kirkwood on the shoulder. “No harm in it now, eh? But don’t forget, you’ve made your statement that you will marry her in front of the vicar. That is the same as saying it to God, Himself.”
“I’ve no intention on going back on my statement,sir,” Kirkwood said, the frost on every word. “I don’t go back on my promises.”
He said that while he turned his gaze back on her. Was that a threat? Or supposed to be a comfort? She didn’t know. Right now she didn’t know anything. It all just felt like a bad dream, but she couldn’t wake up, even when she pinched herself in desperation.
He motioned toward the door and her parents departed, arm in arm, as if this whole situation had only shored up their own union. The vicar followed, a troubled expression on his lined face. Kirkwood sighed and then softly closed the door behind them. He didn’t turn toward her for a long moment, but leaned there, as if gathering his strength.
When he did face her, they stared at each other wordlessly for what felt like a lifetime. Grief and guilt filled her at his expression. At her knowledge of exactly what had been done to force this man into a future he wanted no more than she did. One she only hoped could be escaped.
“Clarissa,” he said softly.
She rushed toward him, hands outstretched. “I cannot apologize strenuously enough. I am so deeply sorry, my lord.”
He sighed. “Roderick. If we are to marry, I cannot endure you my lording me.”
She blinked.Roderick. She supposed she’d known his name. Someone must have said it to or around her at some point. But when she thought of him that way, it felt intimate. To call him that…even more so.
“We cannot marry,” she said instead of acknowledging the request.
“And yet we must, thanks to my imprudence.”
She bent her head. “Not entirely yours. Mine, as well. And I know you aren’t a fool. You see the truth.”
He was quiet a moment. “You mean, I suppose, that your parents have sought to force this union.”
For a moment she fought for the words. Once she said them and supported what he so clearly suspected, he’d surely hate her. Why wouldn’t he? “Y-yes, my lord.”
He let out his breath slowly and paced away from her, across to the window that looked out onto the garden. He was silent and she forced herself to be the same. She would bear this.
He turned at last and speared her with his bright green stare. “Was that why you told me to stay away a few days ago? Because you knew their plans?”
“No!” She reached for him once more but this time let her hand fall instead of touching him. “Oh no, I didn’t think they’d ever go this far.”
He seemed to measure her with that response, but his reaction was neutral. “How far did you think they’d go?”
He was requesting confession and he was owed that, in truth. He was being forced into this far more than she, after all. She’d always known that she wouldn’t have a choice in a husband, not truly.
“After the ball, my—my mother suggested that you would be the preferred match for my parents.” His lips tightened and she wanted to stop, but forced herself to continue. “Your fortune, your position, all of it was what they’ve always dreamed of when they thought of my ultimate marriage.”
“Never emotions,” he asked softly. “Never your heart.”
She blinked. “No. They don’t care about my heart. They care about raising themselves in Society. I know I’m not supposed to speak ill of them, I am to respect them?—”
“They don’t respect you,” he interrupted.
“Oh.” She pondered that. “I suppose they-they don’t. But either way, that was what they wanted. I knew they intended to push us together, to try to encourage a match. But I had no idea that they would do what they did today.”
“You mean follow me when I followed you. Try to catch us alone, hopefully doing exactly what we were doing or…” His gaze flitted over her briefly and she suddenly felt hot again, like she had when he was kissing her. She pushed that unseemly feeling aside. “Or even more.”
She wetted her suddenly dry lips. More. She didn’t know much about themorethat came after kissing. Her mother would tell her, she supposed, now that she would marry.
“Yes,” she said. “Even if we hadn’t been—been,” she dropped her voice, “kissing when they found us.”
A little smile tilted the corner of his lips. “Whispering it doesn’t change what happened.”
She glared at him. There was nothing amusing about any of this. “Well, even if we hadn’t been doing that, they likely still would have tried to make our being alone together into an offense that required a marriage.”
He nodded. “I thought the same.”
