“Is an idiot,” she told him. “He is the reason I have a soiled reputation to begin with. You more than anyone know the reasons for it all. We both know that nothing ever happened between us.” She tilted her chin upward. “At least not then. Now there is far more between us than there has ever been.” She laughed bitterly. “But even that isn’t enough, is it?”
“Jaclyn…”
“Don’t,” she warned him. “I do not need any platitudes from you.” She held out her hand to prevent him from moving closer to her. “Do me a favor, Your Grace. Keep your distance. I cannot handle any more attempts at flirtation from you. My heart is already too bruised from your efforts.” She turned to leave and then decided she would still like the book of sonnets. Jaclyn stepped to retrieve it and the duke’s hand wrapped around her wrist.
“Don’t go,” he said hoarsely. “Talk to me.”
“We’ve said all there is to say,” she told him. “There is nothing left to discuss.” She wrenched her hand free and grabbed the book, then headed toward the library door. Perhaps she should leave Easton Abbey with Barrett. It would give her the distance she needed from the duke. Kingston had broken her heart with his words. That hope that had flared to life was like a distant memory now.
Jaclyn's heart pounded as she exited the library, the book of sonnets clutched tightly to her chest. Her steps were brisk, as if putting as much distance between herself and him would somehow quell the storm raging within her. The echo of his voice, hoarse and laced with emotion, still hung in the air.
She had hoped—no, foolishly believed—that after everything, after the way they had shared moments of tenderness, he would see her as more than the weight of her family’s disgrace. But the coldness in his words had stripped away any semblance of hope she had clung to. He had backed away from her when she had needed him most. The tenderness of that single kiss, which had ignited something in her, had been extinguished by the reality of his indifference.
“Jaclyn,” his voice called from behind her, firm and urgent, but she could not bring herself to turn around. She refused to show him the vulnerability he had so effortlessly exploited.
Her hand trembled as she reached for the door, the simple act of walking away feeling more painful than it should have. Was it not enough that she had endured so much already? That her reputation had been soiled, not by her own doing but by the actions of others? But no, the duke could not see past his own rigid sense of duty to allow her the possibility of happiness.
The door clicked shut behind her, and Jaclyn leaned against the cool wood for a moment, her breath shallow, her pulse a constant reminder of the ache in her chest. She closed her eyes and allowed the tears to prick at her eyes. The finality of the moment, the utter rejection she had just experienced, was almost too much to bear. Now she realized how foolish she had been. She had allowed herself to hope, and in doing so, had only set herself up for heartbreak.
She felt the weight of the book in her hands, a reminder of that embarrassing moment. She should have left it where Kingston had set it. What had she been thinking...
With a deep sigh, Jaclyn pushed herself off the door and walked down the long corridor, each step echoing in the stillness. She had been fighting for so long to find peace in her own heart, but the duke's rejection had shattered any illusion of that. Not that she looked forward to going home and facing her father or a long carriage ride with her brother, but perhaps that was her fate.
Steeling herself, Jaclyn left the hallway and made her way toward the stairs. But as she reached the top of the staircase, she froze. The sudden realization that Kingston had broken her heart, and she had let him… Her reality was clearer now. He was right to keep his distance. If he could not offer her what she wanted—what she deserved—then she had no choice but to protect her heart.
And yet, the ache remained.
Twelve
Kingston stood in the quiet solitude of the Easton Abbey library; the flickering light of the hearth casting shadows across the rows of books. His thoughts churned restlessly, the echoes of Jaclyn’s retreat still hanging in the air. He had kissed her. He had let the warmth of her closeness cloud his judgment, and now he could not erase the look in her eyes when he had pushed her away, telling her she needed to rest. She had misunderstood him entirely.
He had done it for her own good, hadn’t he? He had told himself it was to protect her, to allow her time to regain her strength. But in truth, he had acted out of fear. Fear of where this might go, of how deeply he felt for her—feelings that had taken him by surprise. He was the Duke of Amberwood. A man who had been groomed from birth to control his emotions, to hold others at arm’s length. And yet here she was, unwittingly tearing down the walls he had so carefully built around himself.
His hands tightened on the back of the chair as he debated with himself. Should he go after her? Tell her he had been a fool and that the kiss meant everything to him? His heart ached at the thought of her leaving Easton Abbey, her confusion turning into resentment. But then he had to remind himself: she was too ill for anything strenuous. She was still recovering, and her health needed to come first. Jaclyn would not be leaving the abbey anytime soon. He had time to rectify his blunder with her. That did not mean he couldn’t go to her now and try to make her see reason. She had to know that he held her in the highest regard. Kingston would never hurt her if he could help it. He exhaled sharply, cursing himself for his indecision. His mind was still tangled with thoughts of her, when suddenly the door to the library creaked open.
Kingston stiffened as Jaclyn’s brother, the Earl of Oakley, stepped into the room. Oakley’s gaze swept the room, his posture as haughty as ever, and for a moment, their eyes met with an unspoken tension. Kingston’s stomach tightened in a way he was not accustomed to. The last thing he needed right now was Oakley. His heart was still in a state of turmoil, and Oakley’s presence only made everything more complicated. The reminder of the continued animosity between them simmered in the room. They would never be allies of any sort. They would forever loathe each other, and honestly, Kingston did not wish to change that.
“You need to stay away from my sister,” Oakley’s voice rang out, sharp with a hint of accusation. He glared at Kingston. “Jaclyn just left this very room.”
Kingston’s brow furrowed. “What of it?” He barely restrained the coldness in his tone.
Oakley’s eyes narrowed as he stepped farther into the room, the door swinging shut behind him with an ominous finality. “I saw her leave here earlier, carrying a book. But I had no idea you were here with her. You should not have been alone with her,” Oakley began, his voice edged with suspicion. “You are too close with my sister, Amberwood. I don’t care for it. And I certainly don’t trust it.”
Kingston’s fists clenched at his sides, frustration mounting within him. He had no patience for the earl’s baseless accusations. “You are a fool, Oakley,” he spat, his voice low and deliberate. “Do you even care about your sister at all or is this just another reason for you to come after me? What did I ever do to you that makes you think challenging me at every opportunity a grand idea?”
“Do not be ridiculous.” Oakley’s eyes flashed with anger, his face turning a shade redder. “I am not as foolish as you would like to believe. I saw how you looked at her—how you have always looked at her. Starting with that night when you first tried to seduce her,” he hissed. “I won’t stand for it. If I must, I’ll go and retrieve her right now and take her away from this place. I do not need your permission to take my sister home.”
Kingston’s heart skipped a beat. The thought of Jaclyn leaving him was unbearable, but he refused to let Oakley think for a second that he could dictate his actions. “You’ll regret it if you try,” Kingston warned, stepping forward with an air of authority, his voice rising to match Oakley’s ire. “You can’t control Jaclyn, Oakley. She’s her own person, and if you truly cared about her, you’d trust that she has the right to make her own decisions.”
Oakley’s jaw tightened. “I’ll not have you manipulating her, Kingston. Not now, not ever.”
Kingston took another step closer, his eyes locking with Oakley’s. “I am not trying to manipulate her. I am trying to do what’s right by her, but I won’t tolerate your interference.” He had to do something, anything to prevent Oakley from taking Jaclyn away from Easton Abbey. He would lose her forever if Oakley managed to take her back home. He had been wasting too much time with his own indecision and now it might be too late for him to rectify it.
For a long moment, neither man moved, the tension between them thick and electric. But it was Oakley who looked away first, the spark of anger in his eyes faltering. “I don’t trust you with my sister,” he muttered. “But I will not leave like a thief in the night with her. I will concede you’re right and her health must come first. I won’t make any rash decisions, but I will ascertain for myself how she is in the morning. If I determine she is well enough we will depart immediately.”
Kingston released a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. Surely, he would see that Jaclyn needed to remain at Easton Abbey until she was well. It would also give him more time with Jaclyn—to win her heart. “You may not trust me now, Oakley, but if you truly wish to protect her, you’ll let her make her own choices. She has been unwell after she fell into the pond, but the doctor believes she will make a full recovery and soon.”
The earl’s lip curled in frustration, but he didn’t challenge Kingston again. Instead, he gave a terse nod. “I’ll go. But remember, Kingston, she’s my family, and I’ll always look out for her.”
