“How can you think I’d marry him now? I’ve refused to even see him.”
Eleanor thought of what Mrs. Mullins had said about Julian West, about never having known a boy with a more affectionate heart than his.
Pure gold, his heart.
Her heart began to bleed then, bleed for Julian West. Perhaps he didn’t deserve her pity. Perhaps, after all, one mistake could condemn a man to a lifetime of regrets. What had Cam said about fate? It was crueler to some than others.
But it shouldn’t be, and it didn’t have to be. Not this time. “You can’t marry Hadley, Charlotte, not if you’re still in love with—”
“No.” Charlotte snatched her hand away. “Don’t say his name to me. After tonight, we won’t speak of him again. I’m to be married to a kind, decent man who loves me, and I will grow to love him back. I’m sure of it.”
Perhaps she would, or perhaps . . .
One never gets over a love likethat, do they?
A tiny corner of Eleanor’s heart—the part that whispered Julian West was the one love her sister could never recover from—withered in her chest.
“He said . . .” Charlotte drew in a deep breath, but her voice still shook. “When I accepted Hadley, he sank to his knees and told me I’d made him the happiest of men. Iwillgrow to love him, Eleanor. How could I not?”
Warmth rushed through Eleanor, warmth for Hadley, who looked at her sister as he had tonight, as if she were a gift, and he was the most fortunate gentleman in the world. Perhaps it would all work out for the best.
Pure gold, his heart.
Eleanor cleared the lump from her throat and struggled to lighten her tone. “I suppose mother is ecstatic? I expect to be put to work right away on the wedding.”
Charlotte shook her head. “No, there will be no grand wedding. Alec granted his permission this morning, and Hadley obtained a special license this afternoon. We’re to be wed tomorrow morning, then we’ll leave at once for Hadley’s seat in Hampshire.”
Eleanor stared at her. “What? So soon? Why?”
“Hadley’s mother is ill, and she wishes to see her son married right away. Of course I couldn’t object, and I have my own reasons to wish to be married quickly.”
Eleanor’s gaze dropped to Charlotte’s belly.Of course. She moved her hand unconsciously to her own belly then, astonished she’d only just thought of it. But Cam—he’d have thought of it. He’d never allow his child to bear the stigma of illegitimacy.
She pressed her hand tighter against her belly. Was that why he insisted on the marriage still? Perhaps it wasn’t about her at all anymore.
“I’ll send a letter to Jul—tohim,” Charlotte said, her voice strained. “Tomorrow, once Hadley and I are wed. If he ever cared for me, he’ll honor my wish that he never contact me again.”
Eleanor didn’t reply to that, because there wasn’t anything she could say.
“Eleanor, do you . . .” Charlotte’s voice trailed off for a moment, then, “do you think less of me? Because of what happened with . . . because of what I did?”
Eleanor took Charlotte’s hand, her grip fierce. “No. Never.”
Someday, someday soon, after she’d spoken with Cam, she’d tell Charlotte the truth about those nights at Lindenhurst, but for now . . .
“You’re my sister, Charlotte. I could never be anything but proud of you. I told a dear friend of mine recently that no matter what, sisters stand by each other. And so we do.”
Charlotte let out a shaky breath and squeezed Eleanor’s hand. “And so we do.”
Chapter Twenty-six
Cam came to a halt at the bottom of the dark staircase. He wanted to fall into his bed and put an end to this evening—to this day, to these past weeks—but the staircase unfolded before him in an endless procession of steps, the upper landing so impossibly high, so far away, so obscured by shadows it seemed insurmountable. A mountain, not a staircase.
He’d left the ball early. It wasn’t much past midnight now, but it felt later.
Darker. Quieter.
He worked his fingers into the tight knot at his throat and clawed at the fabric until his cravat hung limp around his neck.
