“No, I didn’t.” He said the words with all the sincerity he felt in his heart.
“Yes, you did.” Her voice sounded resigned, lifeless. He couldn’t bear hearing her like this. “You know I’m marrying Sir Reginald for money and you’re trying to save me because of your guilt.”
“That’s not why. I—”
“But what I cannot understand is why you would ever think I’d accept you.” She turned her gaze to him. Her eyes were shards of dark glass.
He swallowed hard. “If you’ll give me a chance, I can explain everything. Try to, at least.”
“You lied to me. About everything. Everything you did was a lie.”
“No, Frances, I—”
“Of course I see it all clearly now, but at the time, I’d no idea. Like the time I tried to give you a coin for carrying my trunk to my room. You tried to give it back to me.”
He bit the inside of his cheek, hard.
“And the time you called Lady Clayton by her Christian name. It’s because you are friends.”
He clenched his jaw.
“‘A footman who likes to read?’ I said. You let me feel guilty for saying that and for mentioning that your voice was cultured too. Of course it’s cultured.”
“Frances, listen to me. I—”
“I wassucha fool.” She shook her head. “And you let me be. Dear God. You even asked me if I wasin lovewith you?”
Lucas took a steadying breath. He knew his next few words could decide their future, their fate. “Frances, I’m not about to deny that I’ve made a mistake, a tremendous one, but I can make this right, I promise you.”
“Make it right?” She laughed a humorless laugh. “By marrying me?”
He nodded.
She turned her head to stare straight forward into the darkness again. “I suppose next you’re going to tell me that you love me. That you merely forgot to say it that night under the staircase in the servants’ hall.” Her tone turned wistful.
He opened his mouth to say just that. “I didn’t want to tell you until you knew who I really was.”
She put up one hand. “Please. Don’t.” Tears sparkled in her dark eyes.
He scrubbed a hand through his hair and nearly growled with frustration. How could he get her to understand? How could he convince her of how he truly felt? She was choosing to see the worst in him.
She didn’t want to hear them, but the wordsI love youincinerated on his tongue.
His throat burned. He shook his head. For the first time in his life, words completely failed him.
She struggled to her feet, declining the hand he offered. “I can’t believe you. If you told me you love me, it might be just another lie.”
Tears streaming down her cheeks, she brushed past him and raced from the room.
Lucas watched her go and along with her, his hopes and dreams for a marriage full of love with a woman who he knew without a doubt would have been true to him forever. A mixture of anger and grief mixed in his chest. He clenched his fist and leaned his arm against the nearest bookshelf, resting his head upon it.
“You’re wrong, Frances,” he said to the empty room. “I love you desperately.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
“I’ve come for the brandy bottle.” Bell threw open the door to Lucas’s guest bedchamber on the second floor. It had been over an hour since Lucas’s scene in the dining room, and Bell had obviously got wind of it.
Lucas blinked calmly at the ceiling from his position lying prostrate on his bed. “There is no brandy bottle.”
