“I understand, and you have every reason to be upset—”
“Why, Ned,why?Why her and not me?”
Regret crossed his handsome features, and something else akin to wonder before he said, “I fell in love with her.”
“Love?” She took a step away, wishing she hadn’t heard him say those words, wishing she hadn’t seen him kissing Gemma. Wishing, wishing, wishing . . .
And hadn’t her wishes always led to disillusionment? Nothing was ever as it seemed.
She faced him with what she hoped was some maturity. “What do we do now?”
The moonlight caught on a muscle working in his jaw. His expression was so bleak, he could have been carved from stone, and then he said, “We marry.”
She wasn’t certain she heard him correctly. “You are serious?”
“Clarissa, I gave my word.”
Relief flooded through her. She wasn’t going to be humiliated. He was going to honor his promise. She’d be free from having to live under others’ roofs or to be alone. “Thank you, Ned. Thank you very much. I will be the best wife. I promise. I will do anything you wish.”
There was a heavy beat of silence, and then he said, “I know.” He shifted his weight, turning from her. He drew a deep breath and released it and then said, without true energy or desire, “Shall we go inside?” He offered his arm.
This wasn’t the way she wanted it. In a world of her making, he’d kiss her and tell hershewas the one he loved.
But then, no one had ever loved her. She was the burden.
She took his arm. “Yes, let’s.” Hers was a falsecheerfulness, and a signal of determination to be true to her word—she would be a good wife. She’d not offer complaint, she’d do as he suggested, and she’d keep her own emotions and feelings carefully in line with his. After all, she knew how to walk a very narrow line.
And out of the corner of her eye, she caught movement.
Another glance told her that Lord Marsden had come out of the barouche. He’d probably heard everything—and had an opinion, one designed to make her feel guilty. Well, she wouldn’t. He was not her judge. He knew nothing of her life, of how hard it was to manage the world when one had nothing.
Besides, she really, really, really didnotlike the Earl of Marsden.
She just wished his words didn’t haunt her, especially as she returned to the dance and pretended everything was all right.
Chapter Twenty-One
Gemma had left the dance by the time Ned returned with Clarissa on his arm. It disturbed him that he couldn’t ask anyone where she’d gone. He had no right to worry whether she’d made it home safe—if home had been her destination.
No, he had to stand beside Clarissa and behave as if all was right in his world, even as he felt himself crumbling apart inside.
Eventually, the evening came to an end. Ned escorted Clarissa out to Squire Nelson’s vehicle and dutifully waved as they drove off.
Mars sidled up to him. It was obvious his friend was in his cups. “I didn’t see you most of the evening,” Ned said.
“I’ve been to one Cotillion too many,” was the response, and then the earl added, “Run away, Thurlowe. Don’t marry her.”
Ned didn’t like hearing his deepest desire put into words. “You have been against the marriagefrom the beginning. You know one of us has to do it.”
“No, I don’t know that. Nor do I jump because the matrons issue a command.”
“I’m not marrying her for that reason.”
“No, you are doing it because good Doctor Ned Thurlowe takes care of everyone. Someday you need to start caring for yourself.” On that he walked over to his horse and mounted, leaving Ned alone.
Most of the attendees were gone. Even the musicians and the matrons had packed up.
And Ned dared to walk by The Garland. All was quiet... and life moved on.
