CHAPTER EIGHT
Mara shut the door to her bedchamber and leaned against it for support before she slowly moved over to the window and its cushioned seat. Slipping off her shoes, she stretched out her legs and crossed her stocking ankles. Her breath misted on the glass as she leaned her head against the pane to stare out at the darkening sky. She reached out a fingertip to draw a heart through the fog and finally let the tears fall.
Just when she thought her life couldn’t get any more complicated…
She very well might lose everything she’d gained since Roarke had been ripped from her life. Was she cursed? Destined to walk the earth alone for the rest of her days?
It certainly appeared that way.
She wasn’t sure how long she sat there before a soft knock on her door had her jumping up and wiping her eyes. Her heart began to pound furiously as she pictured Roarke on the other side. As vulnerable as she felt at that moment, she knew it would be dangerous to let him in, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself from doing so. She took a steadying breath before she crossed the room and opened the door—to find Lyra standing there. Mara tried to ignore the surge of initial disappointment she felt, but one look at Lady Weston’s troubled expression and her stomach sank even further.
“I’m afraid I have distressing news.”
Mara sighed as Lyra quietly shut the door. Would this miserable day never end?
“Roarke just informed me that Margaret has given birth to a son. While I’m relieved for my sister’s health and that of her baby, it also means that Mother will soon begin preparations to return to London.” Lyra’s expression turned grim. “She never was one to stay away long from the social whirl.”
Mara felt her veins turn to ice, the sensation of her entire body suddenly going numb. Her worst nightmares were coming back to haunt her. “I have to leave,” she whispered. “If Lady Eversleigh sees me in her son’s townhouse it would be the outside of enough.”
Lyra worried her lower lip. “But where would you go?”
“I’m not sure yet, but I’ll think of something,” Mara said stoically. Closing her eyes, she felt the pressure of so many burdens pushing her down. As if losing Bentley, and then Roarke for asecondtime, wasn’t bad enough, now there was the real possibility that she would be cast into the street with nowhere to turn.
When would it ever end?
“I could probably stay at the shop for awhile…” she began.
Suddenly, the countess reached out to grasp Mara’s hands, her brown eyes fervent. “Oh, but you must stay with Lord and Lady Rockford! Athena would be more than happy to have you as her guest, I daresay.”
Mara hesitated. “I don’t know. She’s part of the aristocracy now…”
“That doesn’t matter,” Lyra insisted. “Athena owes you a debt of gratitude. She told me so herself. I’ll write to her right now.”
As Lyra went over to the small escritoire in the corner of the room and took out a sheet of vellum, Mara realized she really had no other option than to appeal to Athena. Penning a quick letter, Lyra sealed it then called for a footman to deliver it and remain for a reply.
It wasn’t even an hour later that Mara received a prompt and enthusiastic response from the countess saying that she would be thrilled to have her as a guest at Rockford House. Able to breathe a bit easier now that one problem was settled, Mara knew the hard part would be telling Roarke.
So instead of taking a tray with Lyra as she normally did, she rang for Amy and told her that she would be joining Lord Eversleigh in the dining room. Like tearing off a bandage, she knew it would be best to tell him as soon as possible, rather than delay the inevitable.
As the maid went down to the kitchen to alert cook, Lyra also took her leave but returned moments later. She had a lovely, lavender watered-silk gown with a shimmering, silver overlay draped over her arm. “I brought you something special to wear.”
Mara eyed the gown longingly before she shook her head. “I appreciate the thought, Lyra, but this isn’t a formal dinner and Roarke isn’t a possible suitor that I need to impress.”
Lyra laid the dress on the bed before she took Mara’s hands in her own. “I know I haven’t told you much about my time with Roger, but our marriage wasn’t based on love, which you can undoubtedly guess by now.” She offered a smile, however melancholy. “My mother convinced me that the earl was a proper match, so like the dutiful daughter I was, I gave in to his suit.” She shook her head. “It was the worst thing I ever did.”
“Lyra…”
“The point I’m trying to make,” the countess beseeched her, “is that between all the differences and pain that divide you and Roarke, I know that you still harbor deep feelings for one another. The heart is a funny thing. It will continue to beat long after it's been broken, but the memories it harbors will go far to mend it. Make the most of this time that you’ve been given. Heaven only knows that you both deserve some happiness.”
Mara could feel herself wavering, the urge to turn back the clock with Roarke unbelievably tempting. Even the hopeful sadness lurking around the corners of Lyra’s eyes was close enough to seal her fate, but she stood firm in the end. “Happiness is only temporary. I have to look at the reality of the situation.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Lyra, but I just can’t.”
At that moment, Amy returned, and while her entrance saved Mara from any further argument from Lyra, she still felt as if she were traveling a slippery slope, where every step she took forward, she fell two steps back.
* * *
“Well, this is a nice surprise,” Roarke drawled, standing as Mara entered the dining room. A footman came forward to seat her to his left. “I was beginning to think I might have the plague considering all you and my sister do to avoid me.”
Mara didn’t deign his sarcasm with a response, for the fact of the matter was, while Lyra was hiding from the entire world, Marahadtried to steer clear of him.
