“I’ll explain it all later, Abby. Wait for me in the wagon, won’t you? I must have a word with the duke, but I won’t be long.”
“No, Rose. I’m not leaving you here withhim.” Abby turned on Max, her face as hard as stone.
“It’s all right, Abby, I promise you.” Rose held Max’s gaze, not sparing Abby a glance. “Please, do as I ask. It will be quicker this way.”
For a long moment, Abby didn’t move, then, with another glance of such fiery wrath it should have felled Max where he stood, she disappeared into the darkness.
“Did you ever intend to become betrothed to Lady Emily? Or was that just another lie?”
Rose’s voice was calm, but she was so white, and underneath her cloak, she was shivering. He reached for her instinctively, but she backed away, shaking her head. “I asked you a question, Your Grace.”
Lady Emily, the house party, Hammond Court— none of it mattered to him now. All that mattered washer. He tried to tell her—he opened his mouth to say the words and beg for her forgiveness—but he could only stare at her, the truth tangling on his tongue.
Yet he wouldn’t lie to her again. Since he’d come to Fairford, he’d told enough lies to last a lifetime. “I never intended to become betrothed to her. When you asked me why I decided to remain in Fairford rather than return to London, an impending betrothal was the first excuse that came to my mind. That’s all.”
“I see.” She nodded, but there was something oddly mechanical about the gesture. “The ice skating, and the sleigh ride, and the . . . the . . .” A spasm of pain crossed her face. “Everything else? Was that part of the scheme?”
“No! You don’t understand, Rose. I don’t deny I plotted and schemed to take Hammond Court from you, but that was before I—”
Before I fell in love with you.
The words were there on his tongue, waiting to be breathed into existence, but she didn’t give him a chance to say them. “The house party, Your Grace. You never intended to have one, did you? You merely seized your chance after the ceiling collapsed at Hammond Court. That was quite a stroke of luck for you, wasn’t it?”
He couldn’t deny it. There was nothing he could say, but he tried, even as he knew it was hopeless. “Rose, please listen—”
“Once you had me here, it was simply a matter of summoning Lord Dunwitty to Fairford. Such a clever scheme, to have a house party. That way, no one would suspect he was anything other than one of your guests. Did . . .” She looked away, clearing her throat. “Did Prue and Francesca know? Were they a part of it, too?”
“No. They would never . . . no one knew but Dunwitty, though Basingstoke and Montford guessed it after they arrived.” They’d warned him this would happen, hadn’t they? He should have listened to them, he should have . . . God, there were so many things he should have done differently.
And so many things he shouldn’t have done at all.
“It was a brilliant scheme, Your Grace.” Her voice was dull. “I never suspected a thing. Silly of me, after you warned me you’d have your revenge on Ambrose. Well, now you have.”
“Rose, please.” His hands tightened around her shoulders, his grip desperate, but she made no attempt to resist him. She didn’t fight him, or try to squirm free, but only waited, her body limp, as if her spirit, her very soul, had been drained.
He’d done that to her.Him. She had the bravest, purest soul he’d ever known, and he’d crushed it like a butterfly in his fist, a bit of dandelion fluff under his boot heel.
“I wonder what Ambrose would make of us now?”
She laughed a little, but it was a dull, flat sound, such a mockery of her true, joyful laugh he nearly staggered with the pain of it. “Rose—”
“Do you know why he left Hammond Court to both of us, Your Grace?” She met his gaze, but it was as if she were looking right through him.
“No.” Even now, after everything, that was still a mystery to him, a missing piece of the puzzle.
“I don’t think he ever intended for me to have the house. After two decades, he still looked upon it as yours, as part of your legacy. He only wanted to give me the chance to make you love it as he did. As I do. All these years later, he still hoped you might make peace with your past.”
“My past?” He stared at her. “Hammond Court, the circumstances of his will . . . you think he did all this forme?”
Come to Fairford, and seize your treasure.
“Yes. It’s amusing when you think about it.” She gave him a sad smile. “All this time, you’ve been trying to take something away from me, and all the while, I was trying to give something back to you. For Ambrose’s sake. It was the last thing—no, theonlything—he ever asked of me.”
Her words fell between them with a dull thud.
Give something back to you . . .
Was it possible he’d been wrong about Ambrose, for all these years?
