He grabbed the paper with his free hand and scanned it.
Lady Elizabeth,
I hate to leave you this way, but I have no choice. Please forgive my hasty departure. I’ll always be grateful to you for your help. I wish you the best.
Madeline
Justin shrugged. “She left,” he said simply, doing his damnedest to pretend as if he didn’t care.
His sister glared at him, crossing her arms over her chest. “Don’t pretend you don’t know why she left.”
He attempted to study the ledger on the desktop in front of him. Instead, the figures were a blurred mess. “What makes you think I know?”
Eliza made a scoffing sound in the back of her throat. “You’re going to deny it?”
“Perhaps.” He forced himself to look up at his sister.
Eliza’s arms remained tightly folded. “Why else would she leave? I know something happened between the two of you last night.”
“You know nothing,” he insisted, ripping the quill from the inkpot and clenching it between his fingers. “She was offered a better position at another household. That is all.”
Eliza’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know that?”
He lifted his brows and shrugged. “We spoke.”
“So you don’t deny it?”
“Deny what?” He dunked the quill back into the pot and rubbed his aching forehead again.
His sister stamped her foot. “You’re infuriating. Do you know that?”
“And you shouldn’t pry into things best left alone.” There. That was as much as he intended to say on the subject.
Eliza allowed her arms to drop to her sides, but she continued to glare at him. “You’re a fool to let her go.”
Justin pushed his chair back and shook his head. “Don’t pretend now that you wanted a maid.”
Eliza’s jaw dropped. She tossed a hand in the air. “Of course I don’t want a maid. I never wanted one. But you’re still a fool.”
Justin narrowed his eyes on his sister. “I don’t know what you want from me here, Eliza. There’s nothing I could offer her. She’s better off far away from me. I’m sorry I cost you a maid. I shall find you a new one.” He pulled his chair back toward the desk and resumed his attempt to seem as if he gave a bloody hell about his blasted ledger.
“Fine. There’s only one thing left to do.” His sister turned and stomped from the room.
Justin glanced up and stared at the empty space where Eliza had stood. He deserved that diatribe. Every bit of it. But he couldn’t explain to his younger sister what precisely had happened between himself and Madeline and why it was so serious. It would be entirely inappropriate. Though that wasn’t Eliza’s fault. It was his. All of this was his fault. He’d been a fool and both Madeline and Eliza were suffering because of it. If only he hadn’t danced with Madeline last night. If only he hadn’t touched her, hadn’t taken her into his arms. But it was too late now. He’d made the ultimate mistake, and he’d been forced to make things right. He didn’t expect Eliza to understand that it was better this way.
He pressed his lips together as he continued to contemplate the empty doorway. What the hell had Eliza meant by her last words, there is only one thing left to do now? That was ominous. But he refused to chase after his sister and ask for an explanation. She needed time to calm down. She, too, would see that it was all for the best, eventually. He wouldn’t push her to hire a new maid quickly either. That would be for the best as well.
He’d done the right thing, damn it. The noble thing. The kindest thing. So why did he feel as if he had been punched directly in the gut?
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Justin sat at the breakfast table the next morning, completely silent. He needed to tell his family that he was soon to announce his engagement to Henrietta Hazelton, but somehow the words wouldn’t leave his throat.
He was still nursing the devil of a head, and Eliza clearly wasn’t speaking to him. She’d barely said a word to anyone else either. Mama, obviously sensing there was something more afoot given the sudden dismissal of Eliza’s maid, remained quiet as well. Jessica, true to form, chattered enough for all of them, talking about the latest on-dits of the ton, seemingly oblivious to everyone else’s unease.
“The Shillinghams’ ball is coming up,” Jessica said. “I have it on quite good authority that the Duke of Thornbury will be there.”
“How do you know?” Mama asked politely, probably more to keep the conversation going than out of genuine interest.
