Glancing at her husband, she asked, “Does that girl not look like me?”
He stammered a confused reply. “Why, my dear, I do not know, I barely caught a glimpse of her.”
“I want to talk to her.”
The Duchess clutched her skirts in one hand and her drink in another and hurried her way through the guests. Maximilian watched her go, then turned to Dentonshire. “What does she mean?”
“Ever since we lost our infant daughter,” the Duke replied, shaking his head, “my wife has not ceased looking for her. I suppose neither of us can accept the possibility she is dead. I, also, find myself hoping to find her again. Thus, we rarely attend parties and social functions, and see our beautiful child everywhere in every person we meet.”
Maximilian remembered his moment of shock upon seeing the Duchess for the first time, how she seemed so familiar to him.No, that is impossible. The odds of Eugenia being their lost daughter are astronomical.“I suppose if I lost my child,” he said slowly. “I, too, would look for her in every passing face.”
“And that is exactly what I find us doing,” Dentonshire agreed. “And every time we see a girl with dark hair, it raises our hopes, only to have them dashed once more. I just hate to see my wife go through that disappointment again.”
The Duchess returned, her expression downcast, shaking her head. “I could not catch up to her,” she said. “I no longer wish to remain at the ball. If you will excuse me, I will return to my quarters. Good night.”
Watching her leave, her back straight and her head high, Maximilian murmured, “I feel terrible for you both.”
“Thank you,” Dentonshire replied. “I do not like her to be alone when she is like this. If you will excuse me, I believe I will depart as well. Good night.”
* * *
It was quite late when Maximilian walked into the garden. The fresh, clean night air cleared his head of the odors of cigars and alcohol and the noise of the crowded ballroom. The moon floated high over the moors as his eyes adjusted to the darkness after the bright lights inside the castle. He saw the dim shape of Eugenia seated on a bench and the silent shadow of Mr. Oldman watching over her not far away.
Eugenia glanced up at him as he took a spot on the bench beside her. “Long night, eh?” he said, gazing up at the stars.
“Yes.”
“While I suppose it is nice to have guests,” he said. “I am glad this party is over.”
Maximilian glanced at her when she did not speak, and the shadows prevented him from seeing her expression. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“No,” she whispered.
Knowing it was his exchange with Augusta that morning that had her still upset, Maximilian reached to take her hand. When she refused to let him have it and scooted further from him down the bench, his worry grew. “Please, Eugenia, do not let my stepmother upset you,” he said, his tone soft. “She has only her name and social status to cling to. It is all that is important to her.”
“It should be important to you as well, Your Grace.”
“I thought you were to call me Max in private.”
“That is not an option to me any longer,” Eugenia said, her voice thick. “I came here tonight to tell you that you should marry Lady Helena. Or another woman of her status. I cannot withhold you from marrying your equal in society.”
Maximilian felt his own throat and chest tighten. “Do not say that. I have no desire for anyone except you. You know this.”
“It does not matter,” she said, standing. “Do not make this any harder for me. The Duchess is right. I cannot stand beside you in society. I will bring shame to you and your good name if we continue. What was between us is now over.”
“I could never be happy if I marry anyone else, Eugenia,” Maximilian said, his heart hammering in his chest. A cold sweat broke out over his skin, making him shiver even under the mild night. “I love you for your sweet nature, your indomitable courage and spirit. I will love only you.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, her braid swinging down as she bowed her head. He knew she wept silent tears, for he saw her shoulders shaking, even in the dark, with the effort to not sob aloud. He reached for her and his heart shattered as she drew away from him as though he offered her poison, not his hand. Or his love.
“I do not love you.”
Those words splintered what remained of Maximilian’s world. His heart, broken, ached with terrible, physical pain. Surely no one could live with such agony, such a horrible, tearing loss. He could not breathe. Stunned, dazed, he watched as Eugenia spun on her heel, and walked away.
Chapter 33
Eugenia wept through the most miserable night of her life. She did not cry herself to sleep. In fact, she did not sleep at all. All her unshed tears during her young life poured from her now. No amount of sobbing on Lady Helena’s shoulder eased her grief. Her soul had died; she was in pain.
“He will not marry me,” Lady Helena said, rocking her as she held Eugenia close. “He loves you; he told you so.”
