“No one else knows. I can assure you that none of the other participants remember a thing. They were all very drunk.”
“I suppose it doesn’t matter since I am to be married and quite possibly locked away forever.”
“I can’t allow that.” He inched closer to her “I won’t let Middlemarch break you—he will crush your spirit.”
“And what concern is my spirit of yours? As I said before, it’s my understanding that you told Mrs. Dove-Lyon you wanted nothing to do with me.” She could hardly believe her bold words, but fear, humiliation, and frustration made her unapologetic. Why was this man taunting her with his chiseled face and kind words? He didn’t want her. He’d made that clear.
“I had my reasons for declining Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s proposal—deeply personal reasons. But seeing you with Middlemarch—the way he treats you. I can’t let that happen. I wish to help you, and I am in a position to do so.”
Kate forced a smile. He felt sorry for her, and she didn’t care to be his charity project. Although she could not articulate why. She needed help but taking help from him—a man she wanted despite his rejection—seemed too humiliating. “I thank you for your offer and warning, Lord Knox. Perhaps if the circumstances were different,” she said brusquely and straightened her back. It was time to face up to her responsibilities. “Good evening, my lord.” She turned and strode away to find her aunt.
Chapter Five
Four days later…
Miss Sheldon hadnot returned to the Lyon’s Den since the night of the auction, but that had not prevented Oliver from thinking about her. He assumed that Middlemarch had her holed up somewhere, forcing her to comply with all his demands before he honored his contract and made an honest woman out of her, and the idea plagued him.
For Oliver, the Lyon’s Den had lost its luster. It no longer silenced his pain. But it was still far better than his Park Avenue mansion, where the silence had become especially haunting. He could not sleep and eventually gave up trying. Instead, he took to sitting by the fire in his study all night, a glass of brandy in hand. There he sat, watching the flames, and thinking of his wife’s wide beautiful smile and her chocolate eyes that used to make him melt. Is this what he wanted for the rest of his life? To have memories only? To live with this loneliness? This silence? Why should he deny himself another chance at happiness? Would it be so bad to raise another man’s child?
Of course not. That was not the problem. It was fear that plagued him. Fear of loss. Fear of pain. Anything was better than experiencing such pain again, even silence.
When the first rays of light seeped through the curtains into the study, he stood and went back to his room, retrieved his morning coat, and left the house. He enjoyed having time alone in the park before it was filled with people selling their wares, promenading, and riding. He loved the peacefulness of the early morning amongst the greenery. He could stand and watch the fowl in St. James’s canal for hours.
But on this morning, it seemed that someone else had had the same idea as him. As he approached the canal, he saw the figure of a woman leaning on the Chinese bridge that had been built the previous year as part of the Grand Jubilee celebration. He thought it odd that she was alone. Her dress indicated that she was upper class, and so she should at least have had a maid accompanying her. He mounted the bridge and intended to stroll past, not wanting to disturb the lady, but as he got closer, he saw that her shoulders shook. The woman was weeping. He could not walk away and leave a damsel in distress. That was not in his nature.
“Miss,” he said gently, “are you in need of any assistance?”
She turned, a handkerchief pressed to her face, and her dark eyes filled with tears.
It was Miss Sheldon. He stepped back in surprise.
“Lord Knox!” Miss Sheldon pulled the handkerchief from her face. “What are you doing here?”
“I was unable to sleep and stepped out for an early morning walk. What about you? Has something happened? Did someone hurt you? Was it Middlemarch?”
“No, it’s nothing. I’m perfectly fine.” She sniffed and turned from him.
“Where is your aunt?” he asked, looking around despite the park being empty. “You shouldn’t be in the park alone, especially at this hour when no one is about.”
“That is the best time to be in the park.” She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “Obviously you know that, or you wouldn’t be here yourself.”
“But I am a man. It’s dangerous for a woman to be here unchaperoned.”
“I know.” Miss Sheldon sighed. “And thank you for your concern. But I just needed some time alone—to think. It’s been so—” She pressed the handkerchief to her eyes. “I’m sorry you had to see me like this.”
“But if no one has hurt you, then please tell me what the matter is. As I told you the other night, I want to help.”
Miss Sheldon shook her head. “You cannot help me. No one can.” She turned back to the canal and gazed at the swans gliding along the water. “I made a mistake, but I am not a bad person. I was betrothed and deeply in love. Have you ever lost anyone dear to you, Lord Knox? The pain is quite unbearable.”
His heart went out to her. What had this poor woman done wrong besides love someone? “I know.” He leaned his forearms on the bridge and stood beside her gazing at the water. “I lost my wife two years ago. She was the light of my life. Since her death, my world has been dark and silent. It’s the silence that I find most unbearable. That’s why I frequent the Lyon’s Den. The noise provides some relief.”
“How did she die?” Oliver felt Miss Sheldon’s eyes on him.
He turned to her and swallowed. Her eyes were so like Beatrice’s that he had to force himself not to look away again as he relived the painful memory. “She developed a headache,” he said. “I sent her to lie down with a cup of tea, but she couldn’t rest. The pain grew worse. I gave her some laudanum, and it eased her pain enough to allow her to sleep. She awoke in themiddle of the night after the drug had worn off in excruciating agony. She knew then that she was dying. She told me so and begged me to be happy after she was gone. I refused to accept it and sent one of my servants to fetch the doctor, but she died before he arrived.”
“How horrible,” Miss Sheldon said.
“I shouldn’t have sent her to bed with laudanum and waited to fetch the doctor. But it was only a headache. She often suffered from them. Who knew a headache could kill? If only I’d called the doctor sooner.”
