She hadn’t told him she was in love with him. He probably thought he was releasing her from an unwanted attachment.
Her silence seemed to unnerve him. He stood, and his face held nothing but regret and stern affection as he looked down at her.
“I’m sorry things have ended this way. Please know that I wish nothing but the best for you. You are an extraordinary woman, Tess.”
Tess opened her mouth, still unsure what she wasabout to say, but he shook his head and drew himself up tall.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I plan to get exceedingly drunk.”
Tess gaped at him. “It’s ten o’clock in the morning!”
He glanced at the clock on the mantel and gave a careless, despairing shrug. “So it is. Good day.”
Chapter Forty-One
“It’s a disaster. The worst. Iloveher, Eddie. What am I going to do?”
Justin finished the brandy in his glass and immediately poured another. It wasn’t even noon, and White’s was almost entirely devoid of guests, which was probably a good thing, considering their advanced state of inebriation.
Edward grabbed the bottle he set down before it could topple off the table.
“Well, for one thing, we should probably shtop drinking,” he said, his voice a little slurred. “And you’ve told me you love her a dozen times now. It’s old news.”
Justin grunted. “I toldher, too, but she doesn’t believe me. Not that I blame her. I told her time and again that I wouldn’t love her. Couldn’t love her. But I have. And I do. Bloody Hell.”
Edward shrugged. “It’s not an ideal situation, certainly.”
“It’s a bloody awful situation. But I can’t let her go. I know Ishould. But I can’t.”
“In legal terms, one could argue that this is a case ofpar delictum. When both parties are equally at fault.”
“How so?”
“Well, you lied to her about not being able to fall in love. But she lied to you about being a woman with extensive experience in the boudoir.”
Justin snorted. “Not the same. Her crime was only one of omission. I stated my opinion several times, quite vehemently.”
“Ah, but you said it in good faith—bona fides—because you didn’t think you had a heart to give.Nemo dat quod non habet.”
Justin groaned. “Speak English, Eddie. For God’s sake.”
“It means, ‘Nobody can give what he has not.’”
“Well, I was wrong about the heart,” Justin said morosely. “I did have one. But now it’s hers and I can never get it back.”
“There must be something you can do to prove you love her. Some ridiculous grand gesture. Harry Chesterfield hired a hot-air balloon to hover above Hyde Park with a banner declaring his undying love for Veronica Smurthwaite last season.”
“That is truly nauseating.” Justin shuddered and took another fortifying gulp of his drink. “I’m willing to grovel, but does it really have to be so public?”
“I think it does,” Edward said sadly.
“Bloody Hell. Fine. I’ll get one of those caricaturists in Covent Garden to draw me as her lap dog on a leash. Or as a carpet, crushed beneath her feet.” He took another gulp of brandy. “Or tied to a stake and pierced with arrows like that Saint whatsisname—”
“Sebastian,” Edward supplied.
“That’s the one. Like Sebastian, shot through the heart. And Tess, as Aphrodite, with a bow and arrow. They can title it ‘Her Grace makes a conquest of her husband, or: Oh, how the mighty have fallen!’ I’ll have five thousand printed and take out an advertisement inThe Times.”
Edward shook his head. “That’s good. But when a prisoner’s looking to be paroled, he has to prove to the judge that he’s changed. That he’s a different man now, who will never make the same mistake again.”
