“But now it’s not enough for you?”
“It was never real at all,” she said. “You were never my friend.”
That was gutting, but he reminded himself that it was a good thing. He wanted her to be questioning what she’d felt between them. She needed to know that it was over. The fact that she was pulling away—it might hurt him now, but it was for the best, and if he could just convince himself to bear through it, they would both be better off.
“Maybe I wasn’t,” he agreed.
She looked away. “I trusted you. I can’t understand why you kissed me if it meant nothing at all to you.”
“I told you—”
“I know what you told me. I’m beautiful, and you got carried away. But I don’t believe you, Edward. I’ve seen you around beautiful women before. You don’t just go around kissing them without a care for propriety or what their feelings might be about it. You may be selfish—youareselfish—but you’re not that cold. You wouldn’t have kissed me without at least thinking about the fact that it might mean something more to me.”
“You’re going to have to find a way to make peace with this,” he said. “I shouldn’t have done it. I admit that. But it’s happened—I’m sorry, but it has—and now we both have to deal with the repercussions.”
“I don’t want you to be sorry! Didn’t you at least enjoy the kiss?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I can tell you’re not being honest with me about something. I want honesty from my husband. Is that really so much to ask for?”
He couldn’t take any more of this. He couldn’t stand in this room and watch her suffer, knowing that he was the cause of it.
“You had better take that wine back to your room,” he said. “I don’t think it was a good idea for us to come up here together.”
“It wasyouridea.”
“And it’s compelled me to give in to a temptation that I should never have allowed to touch my heart.”
He turned away from her.
He could sense her lingering in the room, perhaps hoping that he was going to change his mind or say something else, but he knew he wouldn’t. It had been difficult enough to say what he’d needed to say, but he had finally gotten it all out. Now, he was going to keep his back to her and trust that she had the sense to leave while she could.
A moment later, he heard the door open and close, and he relaxed at last.
How stupid could he possibly be? Kissing her like that when he had known how disappointed she’d been that they weren’t going to have a real romance. And doing it right after her parents had tried to make her feel ashamed of the life the two of them were leading!
It was shameful of him. He couldn’t face himself right now. He had to do something to help himself forget about the mistake he had made.
He locked the door to the study so she wouldn’t come in, and he poured himself another glass of wine. Then, he went over and sat down at his desk. He took out his books and spread them out in front of him.
He should have stayed inside and focused on his work today. He shouldn’t have allowed himself to be distracted. Going out and riding with Lydia had always been ill-advised. He should never have even given in to her request to form a friendship—really, what could he have been thinking when he’d accepted that idea? He had always been so clear with himself that this relationship was for business purposes only. He was with her because he needed to show the world he had a wife. That was all it was and all it would ever be.
He closed his eyes and allowed his feelings to settle, forcing himself not to think about what she might be feeling at this moment—rejected, hurt, unfairly dismissed. He was sure he had hurt her feelings, but he was equally sure that he had been honest with her from the very start about what potential the two of them had—and about what could never be between them.
We’re not going to fall in love. And if she thinks she’s fallen in love already, she’s wrong. She’ll come to realize that in time. She’s strong, and she’ll have the wisdom to choose self-preservation over this love for me that she thinks she feels. She’ll do the right thing to prevent herself from getting hurt any more than she already has.
He hoped so, anyway.
He flipped open the book in front of him and devoted his attention to facts and figures, which were easy to understand and to bend to his will. It made for a welcome respite from thinking about affairs of the heart, which felt impossible to navigate.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN
Lydia found it difficult to maintain any desire to see Edward at all over the days that followed. Every time she caught a glimpse of him in passing, she turned and fled, wanting to be away from him, not wanting to risk a face-to-face confrontation. Being near one another was excruciating.
Sometimes, it was unavoidable. Once, she was in the library—hiding, though she wouldn’t have admitted to herself that that was what she was doing—when he came in looking for a book. The two of them both froze, taken aback at being forced into close proximity, and for a moment, Edward seemed as if he might turn away and come back later. But he seemed to decide it was best to see his business through. He strode over to the bookcase, where he seemed to grab a book at random. Lydia was tempted to ask whether that was truly the one he had come in to get—he had found it so quickly—but he turned and was gone before she could say anything at all.
She had ceased having meals with him altogether. It was easily avoided because she knew what times he ate. She had begun having her breakfasts brought to her in her room so their paths wouldn’t cross. It was safe to emerge by ten o’clock, when he would have taken to his study to spend the day working—he was in there even more lately than he had ever been before. Lunch and tea could be brought to the library or the conservatory. She suspected that Edward was eating in his study. As for dinner, she usually ate at least an hour earlier than his ordinary time and then retreated to her room.
