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“That’s exactly right. There was no way that I would’ve guessed my brother would’ve died at the same time as my father, leaving me heir to an estate I don’t want, with a title I don’t need. I can tell you with no hesitation that my love for Grace, while powerful, was the love of an eighteen-year-old boy. I could barely see outside of myself far enough to know that she could never return any degree of their affection. She didn’t want me.”

“Why wouldn’t she want you?” she asked, suddenly defensive on his behalf.

He laughed, the sound bitter and short. “I’ve only loved twice in my life, but I’ve asked myself the same question about both women.”

Loved twice? Her head was spinning, unable to process everything.

“I’m sorry that I forced you—”

“Enough! I’m not an object of your pity. I’m a man who’s fully capable of making his own decisions about what happens to my life. Don’t you think that if I didn’t want to marry you I could’ve said no?”

Oh God, she hadn’t. She’d been so wrapped up in her own embarrassment and angry at the injustice of them being forced to marry that she’d hardly thought that perhaps he might want to marry her. That he too might have gained something in their marriage.

“I tolerated a great many things from you when I was your friend, Ina. You don’t understand what it was to stand back and watch you paraded in front of every eligible man in Edinburgh so long as he had four thousand pounds a year to his name and some modicum of respectability.” He was pacing the room now. “Notice how your aunt never put you in front of me. A second son with no fortune. I was never good enough.”

“We were friends,” she said, still reeling from the idea that Gavin might’ve harbored some feelings for her.

“Friends sometimes marry, Ina. Some might even say that’s the most rational way to approach the whole matter of marriage, because at least you might stand a chance of getting along years down the line. But that was never going to be us, was it?”

“I never knew you’d considered marrying me.” Then again, she’d never really considered marrying anyone at all until she’d had to.

“I can assure you that if I’d had the means, I would’ve been the first man to ask for your hand.” Any softness about his expression had fallen away, and his voice was low with a fierceness that frightened her. “If circumstances had been different, I never would’ve been your friend. I never would’ve been put off to the sideline to be forgotten. I would’ve made myself the man that you ran to, the one you so wanted with every little bit of your soul that you could hardly bear it any longer. I would’ve fought and scrapped for the chance to win your love.”

She sucked her breath in, startled by the intensity of his words. It was almost too much, a complete shift in everything she’d known in her world.

“Why did you never tell me?” she asked.

He laughed again. “And have you run screaming from me? I’m many things, but I’m not an idiot.”

“I never knew,” she said.

He snorted. “Then you were the only person in Edinburgh who didn’t. Everyone knows. I made a fool of myself for years, escorting you to every ball and every play your heart desired. And what did it get me? Nothing.”

She lurched forward. She’d never understood what it was that she was asking him when he’d been her constant companion, her knight in shining armor when only he could make her feel better. She hadn’t understood the burden he was placing on himself.

“I don’t know what to say,” she said.

He rounded on her, grasping her forearm and pulling her to him until her body pressed flush against the hard line of him. “Love me with even one ounce of the passion I’ve felt for you. Tell me that you want me not for sex or companionship or pity or need,” he said. “Tell me that you love me and mean it.”

“Of course I love you,” she said, desperation replacing her fear. “I’ve always loved you.”

“But always as a friend,” he said.

“As a friend, yes, but—”

“No.” He cut her off with a shake of his head. “I don’t need your pity. I don’t want it.”

“Gavin, let me explain,” she said, tears pricking her eyes and burning the bridge of her nose. Everything was coming undone. No matter how she turned it seemed she couldn’t put a foot right.

“I’ve waited for years and you can’t even say the words,” he said.

“Let me explain,” she repeated.

“No. I’m done.”

“Done?” she asked.

“You should go back to your room.”