She sat at the desk, stunned by her defeat. She had lost him.
Of course, she’d lost many people in her life. However, losing someone who had come to mean more than she could have ever imagined was almost more than she could bear. “He doesn’t want to do this,” she whispered.
And yet he would.
One of the papers on the floor with his bold, slashing handwriting caught her eye. She read her name just as the front door downstairs was opened and closed.
Mars had left.
Clarissa picked up the papers, sorting through them to the one with his writing. Her anger and hurt built right behind her eyes making it hard for her to focus. She forced herself to be steady and read,Clarissa, I am sorry.
Sorry for what? Sorry because he wasn’tgoing to stay and be her husband? Sorry he had married her? Sorry he couldn’t love her the way she loved him?
Or, sorry that his precious vendetta meant more than his daughter? So many reasons to be sorry.
Clarissa rose from the desk. Her initial impulse was to have a good cry, but she’d already done that.
Instead, she went to the bedroom. She barely slept. A part of her hoped Mars would change his mind and come back to her. She waited. She counted the minutes until half past six. The household was already stirring. She found Dalton and asked for the coach to be brought round. She was returning to Maidenshop.
Mars was the first to arrive at the appointed spot on Primrose Hill. He tied up his horse and waited. The hour was shortly before dawn. He stood with his case holding his dueling pistols under one arm.
After leaving Clarissa, he’d fetched his pistols from the chest in the study and gone to his club. There he’d checked the guns. They were perfectly balanced. A tribute to the gunsmith’s art.
He’d not slept well. He could blame his restlessness on the duel, except that would be a lie.
No, he sensed that Clarissa might be right.
He’d pushed the thought away. He wished she saw his side. He didn’t believe she wouldturn her back on him. That wasn’t the sort of person she was. He also knew that regardless of what she said, he believed she would wait for him. When he returned, they would talk.
Mars had even spent a good portion of the night rehearsing what he was going to say. He would explain that there were some things a man must do. Yes, they were dangerous, but amandidn’t dodge danger, not when his honor was at stake.
And this was all about honor. Hers as well as his.
Yes, the man might not have known that Clarissa’s mother was with child. Mars hadn’t known Deb was carrying his babe—but once he knew, he had done the right thing. Dora was important to him. His world had gone from a very small dark place to one with Dora and Clarissa.
Except what had really bothered Mars the most was seeing Dervil standing close to Clarissa. Mars had never experienced jealousy before. It had made him irrational.
As he stood in the morning dew, he began to wrestle with his own culpability. It was not comfortable.
A hired vehicle approached. Mars watched it coming, certain it wasn’t Dervil. He was right. The vehicle stayed on the road and two men came out—Balfour and Thurlowe.
For the first time since Mars had issued his challenge, he felt relief. His friends were here. He walked through the wet grass to meet them.
Thurlowe appeared very grumpy. He carried his medical bag in one gloved hand. “You’ve pulled me out far too early from a warm bed.”
“And a willing wife,” Mars agreed. He held out his hand and Thurlowe took it. These two men were his brothers. He trusted them. “Thank you for coming,” Mars said sincerely.
“I don’t like the idea of this,” Thurlowe admitted.
Mars would not argue the point.
“Are we meeting over there?” Balfour asked.
“Beside the oak where I was standing, I suppose,” Mars said. The three of them walked to the appointed place, leaving the vehicle and driver to wait.
Balfour yawned and Mars had to swallow his. He should be excited. He’d dreamed of this moment.
Instead, his muscles felt lethargic.
