I’ve been in love with you.
Bloody fucking hell.
Those thoughts didn’t belong in his head. They didn’t belong anywhere.
Because he wasn’t, and he didn’t, and he couldn’t.
“Ambrose?” she said, a line of uncertainty hovering above her brow. “What’s wrong?”
What was wrong? What wasright?
He’d come here with the express purpose of bringing Mara to heel whilst dispelling any fanciful ideas she might have had about taking a lover. Instead, he found himself holding her in his arms as the taste of her slowly faded from his lips and his heart hammered like that of a lovesick schoolboy.
If the late Duke of Southwick could see him now, how he would laugh. How he would ridicule. How he wouldscorn. And Ambrose, whose entire adult life had been built around the premise of making absolutely certain that his father—alive or dead—would never be able to find a sliver of vulnerability where he could stab his knife, felt his gut tighten.
“I have a correspondence that requires my attention,” he said coolly before placing Mara on the ground and purposefully taking a step away from her. “Have a servant pick this mess up before someone injures themselves.”
“Ambrose.” Bewilderment flashed in her gaze. “What—”
“That was our first lesson. Tomorrow, if I’ve time, we can review potential candidates.”
“Lessons? Candidates?” She bit her lip. “I don’t... oh. I understand.”
No, she didn’t. How could she?
How could she know that he’d rather she hate him than love him? Even though there was a part of him, a part of the boy he’d been, that desperately, desperately wanted her love. Thatneededit. A part that wanted him to lay his head upon her breast and unburden himself of all the painful secrets he kept hidden away inside. The secret of Wags, and the secret of the governess who had gently kissed his brow each night and wished him sweet dreams before his father sent her to a different household, and the secret of waiting outside his mother’s door for hours with a bouquet of wilted flowers he’d picked just for her clenched in his little fist. When she had finally emerged, she’d merely gazed at the blooms in disgust and asked why he’d brought her weeds before calling for his new governess to take him to the nursery.
Everything and everyone he’d ever cared about had been lost to him.
His presence was poison.
His love was pestilence.
Sending Mara to Southwick Castle hadn’t been a banishment. He’d been doing her afavor. Because she was better off without him. Better offawayfrom him.
If he truly loved her, then he couldn’t keep her.
If he truly loved her... then he had to let her go.
“I’ll be busy for the remainder of the day,” he said curtly, not quite meeting her gaze. “You will meet me for dinner at six o’clock.” He began to walk toward the door. “Do not be tardy.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Ambrose hesitated, his father’s voice ringing his ears.Follow the rules I’ve set forth or suffer the consequences.Grinding his teeth together, he left the solarium without looking back.
*
Waiting until Ambrosehad gone, Mara knelt and began to gather the broken shards of crystal. She might as well have been picking up pieces of herself, for she felt as shattered as the dishware scattered across the floor.
It would have been better if he’d been cruel to her from the beginning. Then she might have worn better armor. But his earnest passion had lowered her defenses... right before his sword had pierced her heart.
“Why?” she asked to the empty room as she stretched her arm under a chair.
What was the point of bringing her to the highest peak only to drop her into the lowest valley? Did he derive some sort of sick pleasure from her pain? Did helikehurting her feelings? She didn’t want to think so. But what other answer was there? None came readily to mind. Maybe he was bored and wanted a bit of sport. A dash of entertainment. But why take it at her expense? She knew—oh, how she knew—that he didn’t love her, but could he hate her that much?
“Your Grace!” The shock in Agnes’s voice mirrored the shock in the older woman’s face as she entered the solarium and found the Duchess of Southwick crawling around the floor on her hands and knees. “What’s happened? Have ye fallen? Should I have the doctor fetched?”
“No, no, I’m fine,” Mara said firmly even though she was anything but. “Some glass broke, and I—”
