John dropped the books he was holding into a trunk with a heavy thud. Walter’s return had cost John the love of his life. He had to clench his fists to stop from strangling his brother.
“How did you do it?” Walter asked. “I thought for sure the only way out was Lady Luella’s dowry.”
So that had been his brother’s plan—Walter had expected John to marry in order to save the estates. That was why he had returned now. He’d assumed that John had secured Luella’s dowry.
“I sacrificed for the good of others,” John snapped. A bigger sacrifice than Walter could ever imagine. “I suggest you try it.”
Walter snorted. “No need for that. My man of business says the estates are repaired. Neither of us will have to marry that damn harpy.”
Something inside John snapped. Their entire lives Walter had teased and bullied and tormented John, and John had accepted it, because he had thought he’d been a broken, stuttering outcast who’d perhaps deserved it.
But over the past few months, he’d realized that although he might not be as charming or well-liked as his brother, that he might not have Walter’s looks or way with words or popularity, John was a good landlord and a good master. He’d taken care of his responsibilities.
He wasn’t the defective thing his father had said he was. He wasn’t inferior to his brother. He’d been a better lord than Walter ever had been. A better person. And he’d be damned if he allowed his brother to continue to treat Luella so unjustly.
He stalked across the room to where his brother sat, standing over him, forcing Walter to look up.
“You made promises to that ‘damn harpy.’ You convinced her it was a love match, and she grieved you when youpassed. You will not throw her over now.”
“Now see here.” Walter tried to force John backward by standing but sat back down again when Newton growled. “You do not make demands of me. The girl sullied herself years ago. I saw the proof of it. I may have overlooked that when I needed her money, but I won’t saddle myself with another man’s leftovers if it’s not needed.”
John’s hands clenched. Lady Luella certainly had her flaws. She was cruel and arrogant and John had done everything he could to avoid being joined with her. But knowing how poorly she’d been treated by men, was it any wonder that she was abrasive?
Walter had simply been the next in line to win and break her heart for sport. John didn’t believe for a moment that Walter hadn’t pressed her for the same affections for which he now damned her.
John loomed over his brother, jabbing a finger in Walter’s direction. Behind them, Newton sensed his master’s anger and growled. “You will marry Luella,” John said. “Or you will experience what it is to be ostracized. Somehow you hid the extent of what you owed from all of society but if you do not honor your commitment to her, not only will I tell the entire world that the Viscount Harrow does not pay his debts, I will tell them how you faked your death in order to run from them.”
Walter’s face reddened. “You wouldn’t. How would that serve you?” But there was an undercurrent of unease behind his bluster.
“Try me.”
***
Charlotte couldn’t bring herself to go down for breakfast. Nor could she go down for luncheon. She turned Grace away and remained in her nightclothes. When Henrietta and Josie showed up on the Wildeforde doorstep, she asked Simmons to tell them she wasn’t at home.
They left a note that she didn’t bother to read, and when Edward knocked on her door, she didn’t bother to answer. Instead, she sat at her window, looking out over Harrow House, and desperately wished that John would come toward the glass door of his study so that she could see him.
He didn’t. There was the occasional flash of a person, or a dog. Clearly, activity was happening within John’s study. But at no point did he come to the threshold where she could see him.
And she desperately wanted to see him.
What had started as a childish tendre based on nothing but his floppy hair and graceful movements had developed into something stronger and all-consuming.
John was kind and intelligent and he loved her for who she was, not what she could do for him. He’d helped her see that it was all right to put herself first. He hadn’t considered her selfish; he’d encouraged it.
He respected her as a person. He’d never forced his wishes on her. Not even at the end. Not even when he’d asked her to go with him to America.
She’d put herself first when she turned him down, and in response, he’d been kind. He’d respected her decision.
Goddamn, she wished he hadn’t.
Shame flooded her. She hadn’t even considered his proposal. She hadn’t even tried. He’d suggested she leave her home and her friends for a life with him and she’d rejected the idea without thought.
If she truly loved him, wouldn’t she at least have thought?
There was a blur of movement. The doors opened and Newton barreled out into the yard, John on his heels, tossing a ball in the air. As he caught it, he looked up.
She froze as his gaze locked with hers. Her chest tightened as he gave her a small, sad smile. Her heart shattered as he turned away, throwing the ball to a corner of the garden so that he wasn’t facing her.
