God, it was so simple. Had it always been this simple? He could never deceive her. He could never manipulate her, or coldly seduce her. He could never hurt her.
He loved her. He could only ever love her.
But with that love came an aching sadness. So far down, that ache. Deeper, even, than his heart.
This is how badly she wants tobe free of me.
Cam looked down at her, into those dark, pained eyes. She didn’t know. She thought she knew everything, but she didn’t know it all.
Your mother wasshamed. Ruined.
She’d never once mentioned Hart Sutherland.
Chapter Twenty-one
“You don’t want to do this, Ellie.”
Eleanor watched him. Waited. The silence stretched between them until her nerves screamed with it, and still he said nothing more, but continued to gaze down at her, his green eyes shadowed with . . .
Pity?No, not that. She might have understood pity, but pity would not make her breath catch in her throat and her heart thrash painfully in her chest. Pity would not make her mouth fall open in astonishment.
Only one thing could, and it was the last thing she’d expected.
Hurt. She’d hurt him.
Before she could think to stop it, before she even realized she felt it, it was upon her. It swelled in her throat, burned the back of her eyes. Her hands shook with it, her chin trembled with it—an answering hurt, wrenched from a place so deep inside her she staggered when it was jerked free.
When had it happened? When had his pain become her own?
He reached to steady her, his hands gentle on her shoulders. “Eleanor, please. You don’t want to do this.”
This was his response?She’d braced herself for fury, accusations, threats, and denials. She’d answered each of them in her head. She knew just how she’d respond—how she’d meet his fury with her own.
But this? One sentence, his voice soft, his hands on her shoulders to steady her, and his eyes—such a dark green now, and clouded with pain. A forest shrouded in fog.
No. She hadn’t prepared herself for this. Couldn’t have, even if she’d tried.
She pressed her hands harder against the fireplace behind her, and harder still, until the cold from the stone under her palms stole up her arm and didn’t stop, didn’t stop until it crept into every part of her body.
Into her heart.
And with it, a helpless fury. At him, yes, for making this so hard. For daring to be hurt.
But mostly at herself, because hurting him shouldn’t be the hardest thing she’d ever done.
You don’t want to do this.
No, she didn’t want to do this, but she had no choice. He’dmadeher do it. Forced her to do it, and now he was making her heart twist with misery inside her chest.
She tugged her shoulders free. “What I want doesn’t matter. What matters is Amelia. Do you wish to see her secret exposed for all thetonto gossip over?”
“I don’t wish it.” His voice was quiet. He reached out, brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear with careful fingers. “But neither do you.”
She flinched away from the soft touch. “I told you. It doesn’t matter what I wish. You know what will happen once thetonhears the truth. They’ll never accept her. The gentleman will speculate about her, and the ladies—they’ll be worse. They’ll sneer at her, whisper about her, and titter over her from behind their fans.”
Threatenme. Rage at me.
But he wouldn’t. Instead he moved closer. His warm fingers stroked her cheek. “And when they do it will break your heart, Ellie, as surely as it will break hers.”
