“You have no choice in the matter, Michael,” Beatrice went on. “You must either marry her or risk the Viscount of Abney challenging you to a duel.”
“And what is so wrong with that?” he grumbled.
“What is so wrong with—” Beatrice broke off in disbelief. “You may die! That is what’s wrong!”
“Michael,” Clarissa chimed in, her voice soft. “Are you so opposed to the idea of marrying Lady Elaine? You two have grown to be friends, have you not?”
It was more than that. Far more than he cared to admit. Far more than he thought himself capable of. The idea of marryingher did not come with enough abhorrence as it should have and that scared the living daylights out of him.
“What about your plan?” Henry spoke up. “This would be a perfect opportunity for you to get what you want.”
“What plan?” Beatrice asked.
No one answered her. She looked around at them all and then threw her hands up in frustration. “If no one intends on telling me anything then I may as well take my leave since clearly I am not needed.”
“Aunt Beatrice—” Clarissa began but Beatrice stormed out of the parlour before anyone could stop her.
A heavy silence hung in her wake. Michael began to pace again. He couldn’t help himself. When he thought of Elaine’s big, green eyes staring up at him with such love and innocence, when he remembered the way her lips felt against his and how perfect the world had become at that moment, he hated himself.
Henry broke the silence first. “What do you intend on doing, Michael?”
“You heard Aunt Beatrice,” Michael snapped. “I have no choice, do I?”
“You do not seem very happy about it.”
“Oh, no, this isperfect. My initial intention was to get closer to her in order to tear her family down, was it not? If she becomes my wife, that is as close as I will ever be able to get. I will be able to infiltrate her family and use the information I have to rid of what little prestige and pride they have left.” Michael didn’t realise he had made for the bottle of whiskey until it was at his lips. “My plan is going swimmingly, in fact.”
No one spoke for a long moment. Michael brought the bottle with him to the window, staring out into the blackness.
At last, Clarissa said, “I hope you do not truly believe that, Michael. Elaine loves you. That much is obvious. And after seeing you two tonight, I thought you loved her too.”
“You thought wrong.”
“That is apparent.”
Michael listened to their departure. He waited until the door closed, until the silence closed in on him, to truly let go. He did not cry. He did not shout or throw the bottle of whiskey across the room as he longed to. He simply let the guilt consume him, until he was nothing but a husk of his former self, until he had diminished all his self-worth and had questioned everything he’d done since returning to London.
By the end of it, his mind was made up, but his heart was still torn.
***
Elaine drew in a deep breath, letting it out past her lips. She patted her cheeks and prayed that the rose water she’d washed her face with had helped in lessening the redness of her complexion, due largely to the fact that she’d spent all night—and most of the morning—crying her eyes out. She’d styled her hair, put on one of her nicest dresses, and dabbed a bit of perfume behind her ears and on her collarbone. All because, one hour ago, Lorna had come to tell her that the Duke of Ryewood was here to see her.
Elaine had prayed for this. Then she’d hated herself for praying, hated the hope she still harboured despite the fact that she knew what would happen. But now that he was here, she couldn’t stop that hope from blooming again.
She brushed her sweaty palms against the front of her dress and steeled herself before opening the door. Her eyes immediately fell on Michael. He stood upon her entrance, a troubled expression written across his face. She didn’t know what to make of it so she turned her attention to the others in the room.
James sat across from Michael, his overwhelming anger still taking over everything in the room. Next to him was Lorna, who seemed to be the only one bringing warm hope to the tense atmosphere. She smiled, reaching a hand out to Elaine and Elaine was happy to go to her side.
Elaine couldn’t meet Michael’s eyes. She took the spot next to Lorna, eyes remaining on the floor.
“Will Lord Suthenshire be joining us?” Michael asked, breaking the silence.
“He is resting,” Lorna told him. “He is in no position to partake in this conversation.”
“I will simply have to do,” James said, the threat in his voice evident.
Elaine’s heart skipped a beat. That hope began to dwindle and the hostility between the two men didn’t help.
