Page 33 of A Scandal for the Beastly Earl

They sat in silence for a moment, the brandy warming Arabella from the inside out. The study was more personal than any room she'd seen so far; books everywhere, papers on the desk, a half-finished chess game on a side table.

"Do you play?" she asked, nodding to the chess board.

"Sometimes. Against myself, mostly."

"Who wins?"

"I always do. And I always lose. It's very philosophical."

"Or very lonely."

He looked at her sharply. "You're determined to see me as some tragic figure, aren't you?"

"Aren't you?"

"No more than anyone else."

"Most people don't live in self-imposed exile."

"Most people haven't..." He stopped abruptly.

"Haven't what?"

He was quiet for so long she thought he wouldn't answer. Then: "You asked about the fire."

"You don't have to..."

"No, you're right. You should know." He took a long drink of brandy. "Her name was Matilda. We were betrothed. It was arranged by our families and it was a good match, everyone said. She was beautiful, accomplished, everything a future countess should be."

Arabella waited, sensing that interrupting would break whatever spell had prompted this confession.

"We were at my estate in France. There was a fire, which started in the drawing room and spread faster than anyone expected. Matilda was trapped. I tried to reach her." He gestured to his scars. "But I failed."

"I'm sorry."

"Everyone was sorry. Sorry for my loss, sorry for my scars, sorry for the tragedy of it all. But here's the truth I've never told anyone; I was relieved."

Arabella's breath caught. "Relieved?"

"Not that she died. Heavens, not that. But relieved that I wouldn't have to marry her. We were completely wrong for each other. She found me too serious, too dark. I found her vapid and shallow. We would have made each other miserable."

"But you tried to save her."

"Of course I did. She didn't deserve to die just because we were incompatible."

"And the guilt?"

"Has been my constant companion ever since. Not guilt that she died; that was the fire's doing. But guilt that I was grateful to be free, even as I mourned her."

They sat in silence, the fire crackling between them. Thistle had begun to snore, apparently finding the emotional revelations less interesting than the warmth of the hearth.

"Why are you telling me this?" Arabella asked finally.

"Because you asked for honesty. And because..." He paused, seeming to search for words. "Because you fell into a lake to save a dog. Matilda would have watched him drown rather than risk her gown."

"That's not a fair comparison."

"Isn't it? Two women, two responses to crisis. One preserves herself, one risks herself for something that matters to her. Which would you rather have as a wife?"