He rose to stand behind his chair, gripping the back of it. “Of course I did. You would never have been willing to learn who I was or allow me the privilege of learning about you. I wouldn’t marry a woman I could not see as my wife, no matter how large her dowry.” He strode back around the chair and sat, leaning toward her. “Amelia, I do love you. I think I fell in love with you the night we stared at the moon, and you talked about mystic moments. I knew I loved you the day you called me a goat. I promise you, our need for your dowry is only temporary.”
His gaze burned intensely, so strong that she couldn’t look at him. Bile rose in her throat at his betrayal, even as her heart constricted. “If you truly felt that way, then you should have told me.” Her stomach tightened so harshly, she felt ill. She’d seen a future with him, a happy future, and he destroyed it. She wanted that future back with the man she’d come to care about, but he’d known she felt and chose not to tell her until now, when he needed her dowry.
Even as images of their time together in her studio flashed through her mind, his laughter, his caring, his touch, pain swept through her. She didn’t wish to marry anyone now, ever. She shook her head. “I can’t.”
“I promise you, nothing is different. I still love you. You can still have a studio at Lyonsmere and paint. Your comfort will be no different than it is now.”
She finally met his gaze. “But itwillbe different. I’ll always wonder what you are hiding from me because you know I don’t like it.” Even as she said the words, she knew them to be true. Why did it hurt so much to accept?
“I will be completely honest with you as my wife. Anything you wish to know, I will tell you.” Even as he said the words, his Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed hard, making it clear there was more he didn’t think she’d like to hear.
Her throat closed and she shook her head, unable to say anything. Her heart ached for what she’d imagined with him and her stomach burned with his betrayal.
He finally rose. “I will not apologize for supporting the people under my care. I had hoped you would feel the same way and want to help those who would benefit from you marrying me, but I see that I was wrong.”
She didn’t watch him as he strode across the room to leave her forever.
“Lord Sommerset.” Her sister’s voice reminded her that Mariel had been witness to their entire conversation. “What will you do, for your people?”
“I do not know, but I will figure it out. I have to.” With those final words he left.
She couldn’t help listening to his steps as he strode across the entryway. Each click of his boot heel on the floor like a death knell beating against her heart. She imagined him as he donned his coat and the door opened only to shut behind him, a draft of cold air flowing into the parlor. She shivered, feeling far colder than the air. In fact, numbness started to set in.
The silence in the room became deafening. No doubt her sister thought her a fool for ever making a bargain with a man who could withhold such a compelling truth. Unable to bear the quiet censure any longer, she finally swiveled to face Mariel.
What she found in her sister’s gaze was far from condemnation. It was pity and nothing more. She shook her head at Mariel. “I know.”
“No, Ames, you don’t know.”
At the use of her childhood name, she frowned. “I don’t?”
“No, you don’t. You just let the one man who could make you happy for the rest of your life walk away.”
Chapter Nineteen
Andrew stared outthe window of his coach but saw nothing. He felt nothing. His entire future was now erased, leaving an empty one before him. How could she not see? How could she ignore all else?
The coach came to a halt, and he frowned. The door opened.
“Sunnydale Manor, my Lord.”
He stared uncomprehendingly at the footman, before remembering he’d told his coachman to stop here. Why did he want to come here? Unfolding himself from the seat, he stepped down and strode up the stone steps, his reason still beyond his reach.
The door opened and the butler ushered him in, taking his coat, hat, and gloves. “I will inform Lord Harewood that you have arrived.”
Harewood. Yes, he wished to talk to his friend.
“I did not expect you so soon.” Harewood smiled in greeting as he came from the parlor, but quickly lost all pleasantness. “Come to the library. You need a drink.”
He followed obediently, still trying to make sense of what he was supposed to do or feel.
“Sit.” Harewood pointed to the leather chair where Amelia’s father had been that night of the ball.
His friend poured something into a glass and handed it to him. “I said sit.”
Taking a sip, he coughed. “What the blast is that?”
Harewood took the glass back. “Port. I just wanted to make sure you were still conscious.”
