Love. He should have known, should have seen it, but it had been easier for him to remain blind, to pretend she lost nothing by marrying him. To tell himself he’d be good to her, kind to her. To tell himself he wasn’t stealing from her.
The night they’d made love at Lindenhurst, for the most fleeting of moments, she’d given everything.To him.And he’d taken it, as if he had a right to it. Afterwards, she’d been afraid. Vulnerable. He should have held her in his arms until her panic faded away. He should have fallen to his knees in front of her in gratitude.
He should have told her he loved her.
Instead, he’d raged at her. He been brutal, and afterwards, when she was pale and trembling from the shock, he’d spoken to her of obligations.
He’d wanted to hurt her that night, to punish her for taking the gift of herself away. Never once had it occurred to him he didn’t deserve her gift. Never once had he thought he wasn’t worthy of it.
Not once, until now, had he understood such a gift wasn’t something he could take.
He could take her freedom. He could take her body. He could take her name and use it, use her, both for Amelia and for himself. He could take her future away, and tell her she owed it to him. Tell himself she owed it to him, too.
Aneye for an eye.
But he couldn’t take her love. He couldn’t force it from her, or steal it from her. She had to choose to give it to him. She had to reach down into her heart, past the panic and the fear, and offer it to him willingly.
Her love was the only thing that mattered. It had always been the only thing that mattered. The best he could do, the most he could do, was try and deserve it.
“Denny? Why do you look like that? You’re scaring me.”
Cam jerked his attention back to Amelia. He took her hand. “I’m sorry to scare you, minx. I need to explain something to you, and it may be difficult for you to understand. I’m not going to marry Ellie, despite what Lady Charlotte said. Ellie . . . she doesn’t love me.”
Amelia stared at him for a moment, then she shook her head. “Yes, she does. She said—”
“I know what she said, sweetheart, but when she said she’d only marry for love she didn’t mean she wants to marry me.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense, Denny. Why shouldn’t she want to marry you? I know she loves you.”
Cam smiled a little. To Amelia, there could be no question of any lady resisting him. “I know this won’t make much sense to you, but the truth is, I didn’t give her a chance to say no to me. I haven’t been fair to her.”
Amelia considered that. “You mean, you cheated? Like when someone cheats at a game?”
It seemed as good an explanation as any. “Yes. Something like that.”
“Beg her pardon, then. She’ll forgive you.”
“Perhaps she would, but forgiveness isn’t love, Amelia. Even if she forgives me, I don’t think she can—” Cam stopped, swallowed. “I don’t think she can love me. Not after I cheated at the game.”
Amelia gripped his hand hard. “Won’t you even try? You said you loved her, Denny. Surely that matters more than some silly game?”
He wished it were that simple. “If I try she might give in, but if she did, it would be because she lovesyou, Amelia, not me. That might be good enough if I loved her less, but I love her so much I want her to have everything. She wants to marry a gentleman she loves—she told you so herself. Do you understand?”
Amelia didn’t answer for a long time, but at last she nodded.
“I thought you would. Now here, I want you to have this.” Cam reached into an inside pocket of his coat and pulled out a piece of paper. It was nearly worn through at the creases, as if it had been folded and unfolded many times.
Amelia took the sheet and unfolded it. “This is the drawing I did of Eleanor, from that day in Lady Abernathy’s garden. Have you carried it in your pocket all this time?”
“Yes. But now it’s time I give it back to you.”
Amelia looked down at the limp paper in her hands, then back up at Cam. “But . . . you said it was your favorite.”
Cam took the paper from Amelia. “It is.” He gazed at it for a long time, traced his finger over the eyes, the curve of the chin. “But it doesn’t belong to me.” He held it out to her.
She hesitated, but at last she took it. “Perhaps I’ll give it to Ellie. She might like to have it. You don’t mind if I bring it to her, do you, Denny?”
“No. I don’t mind.” He leaned forward to look into her eyes. “Whatever happens between Eleanor and me hasn’t anything to do with you, Amelia. You know that, don’t you? You’ll still see the Sutherlands, as often as you like. Eleanor cares a great deal for you. She’ll always be your friend, just as she promised she would be.”
