She was alone, standing by the window looking out into the garden, but she turned when he entered.
“Good afternoon, my lady. I—” He froze partway across the room, and his words died on his lips. She looked different. Something in her face, or perhaps in her eyes. A spark, or—
No. She didn’t look different. She looked like herself again, like the Eleanor he remembered. The Eleanor he’d fallen in love with.
Cam drank in the sight of her even as pain sliced his heart to ribbons. Did she know, somehow, he’d come to release her from their engagement? He couldn’t see how she could, but it didn’t matter. The spark was back in her beautiful dark eyes, and he’d do whatever he must to keep it there.
Extract the ball.
“I came here to—”
“Charlotte was married this morning,” she interrupted in a rush. “To the Marquess of Hadley.”
Cam stared at her. “Married?” Jesus, that was sudden. For some reason Julian’s pale, rigid face flashed through his mind.No, surely not. Surely that wasn’t why—
“Yes.” Eleanor laughed, but she looked nervous. “We’ve kept it rather quiet, but I thought you should know.”
That he should know? Why—
Realization slammed through him with the force of a blow. Lady Charlotte was married, which meant her reputation was now secure. His threats against her had been rendered meaningless, and Eleanor wanted to make sure he understood that.
No wonder, then, the spark was back in her eyes. She was free of him at last. If his heart hadn’t been reduced to a bleeding pulp, he might have laughed to find she’d gained her freedom mere hours before he gave it to her willingly.
“I offer my congratulations, and my heartfelt wishes for Lady Charlotte’s happiness.” His voice sounded stiff, awkward, but he drew a deep breath and pressed on, desperate to get it done. “I came this morning to release you from our engagement. I—I was wrong to do such a . . . I regret, deeply, that I . . . I beg your pardon for my dishonorable actions, Lady Eleanor.”
He owed her more than that, so much more than such a brief, stammering apology, and yet it was the best he could do. He couldn’t look at her, at the spark in her eyes that made his chest ache, but at the same time he could hardly tear his eyes away from her. It took all his control to make his formal bow and turn away.
“Wait.”
Cam didn’t turn, but closed his eyes at her quiet command. He couldn’t look at her again, not now—
“Cam. Please.”
Please. That was all it took, one soft word, and he could deny her nothing. He braced himself, but his heart wrenched horribly in his chest when he faced her again.
“I have something here. It belongs to you.” She reached for his hand and slipped a piece of paper into his palm.
Cam stared down at it. The drawing. Amelia’s drawing of Eleanor. Amelia must have been here, must have given it to her. He shook his head. “This doesn’t belong to me.” His voice was a hoarse rasp. “It belongs to you.”
She reached out and wrapped both her hands around his to close his fingers over the drawing. “It did, but now I’m giving it to you.”
He didn’t speak—he couldn’t. He could only gaze at her, his fingers going tight around the paper as if he’d never let it go.
She looked a little uncertain now, but her eyes were soft. “I told you about Charlotte only so you understand I’ve no other reason to say what I’m about to say, aside from it being the truth. I don’t wish to be released from our engagement, Cam. I want to marry you.”
“You want . . .” Cam forced back the joy that surged wildly inside him at her words, certain he’d misunderstood her. “No, Ellie, you don’t.”
She took a step closer to him. Another. He looked down in disbelief as she took his hands in hers and smiled up at him. “Have you ever known me to do what I don’t wish to do, Cam?”
Cam’s eyes slid closed again. Oh, God, he wanted to believe her so badly, but it was impossible she could want him. “What I did, all the things I said . . .”
She pressed her hand against his cheek. “What you did, what you said—it’s not all you are.” She raised one of his hands to her lips and pressed a kiss to his palm. “The man you truly are—a man of his word, who loves with such a rare, deep love—I’m in love with that man. With you. I don’t want to be released from our engagement. I only ever wanted to marry for love, and I love you, Cam.”
Cam heard a deep groan and realized it came from him, that she’d torn it straight from his heart. Then he was holding her, and she lay her head against his chest, as if his arms were the only place she ever wanted to be. “Eleanor. God, Eleanor, I love you so much. I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t think you’d believe me, not after all I’d done—”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed a kiss on his chin. “I do believe you, and that’s all that matters. Whatever may have happened before this moment, well, perhaps it’s best forgotten. No one cares about the start of the play, Cam. They only care about the wedding at the end.”
Cam touched his fingers to her chin to raise her face to his. “This isn’t the end, sweet—it’s just the beginning.”
