He shrugged. “It didn’t seem important. I was born first—the eldest,the heir.” He said the last so derisively she knew instantly that he hated being the heir. He inhaled a long breath, seemed to hold it, and then released it very slowly. “Thomas, my brother, used to say that I was the heir and he was the frail, unneeded spare. My parents would scold him and act horrified in the moment, but do you know, their actions hardly ever matched what they said.” She remained silent, almost certain he just needed to tell her, tell someone, and she did not want to interrupt that. “They treated him as if he could do nothing. They forced him to stay indoors almost always, as if they were afraid if he went outside he’d die, as if they were afraid that danger awaited him out in the world. I suppose, ultimately, they were correct.”
Nash had threaded his fingers together, and she longed to grab his hands and take them in hers, to help him conquer his pain. But if she did that, she feared she would not be able to make herself ever let go.
“They said to him, ‘You’re strong, don’t be ridiculous, you are not just the feeble spare,’ but every action they took, every action they demanded I take to protect him, to put him first, to let him win at everything, always said to him that they believed him to be weak, that they believed him in need of their hovering, coddling, and constant protection. He hated it, I hated it, and sometimes—” his gaze became pleading, as if he was asking her to forgive him “—I hated him.”
“Oh, Nash.” Her throat tightened mercilessly for the pain she could see he was in. “That is normal. I cannot tell you how many times I have wished my sister, Nora, ill for threatening to tell on me, for being a pest, for blackmailing me.”
Nash shook his head. “It’s not the same. You’ve never failed to protect your sister. I got tired of letting Thomas win, so one day I simply didn’t. Helen—” He swallowed, and Lilias’s heart stopped. There was a connection there, after all. “Helen came to our home for a sennight with her father, like Mr. Levine said. Thomas was instantly enamored of her, but she had her sights set on me—the heir. I knew it, too, so when she kissed me on the ice, I kissed her back. Thomas saw it, charged me, and, well, you know the rest… I told you I’m not good.”
She wanted to weep for the weight of the guilt he carried. “That was one moment of selfishness, Nash. That does not make you bad.”
“No.” The word was harsh, a total and utter denial. “I almost did it again with you, to Owen. I suspected he liked you. I tried to help him win you.” He swiped his hands over his face, stayed that way for a moment, as if he could not stand to continue, and then he dropped his arms to his sides. The look of raw pain in his expression made her suck in a sharp breath. “I don’t know if I was really unsure of how he felt or if I convinced myself I was unsure because I wanted you so damn much. That day, that day in the woods when I said you made me feel, what I was trying to say was that you made me feel alive. When I was with you, you made me feel again. Before that, I had barely felt anything since Thomas’s death. But when I kissed you, I felt alive. I felt hopeful.”
The revelation was everything she had ever longed for, dreamed of, and it hurt desperately. A sob escaped her, and as it did, Bear pulled onto the lane, driving her gig toward them. It was the worst and most perfect timing of her life. Because she knew, she absolutely knew, that if they had been alone for one more breath, she would have flung herself into his arms and kissed him. She would have betrayed Owen and her promise to him. She had one thing she needed to say, though, before Bear was upon them, before this moment was gone forever.
“I have loved you every day since the moment I met you,” she said through the tears that were now streaming down her face. “And when you came back, I had hoped… Well, I went there hoping… But now—”
She didn’t know what to say. She was betrothed to Owen, but she wanted to tell Nash she’d break it off. What sort of person did that make her if she did that? What sort of person was she to even think about such a horrid betrayal? And even if she did end her betrothal, would Nash court her? She feared his honor and his guilt would prevent it. She needed time to sort out her head.
“Nash, I—”
“Don’t say it.” He pressed one searing finger to her lips. “Whatever you were going to say, don’t. I told you I wasn’t good.”
“Your brother’s death was not your fault.”
“It’s not just that, Lilias. God, it’s not, but that’s enough. Listen to me.” He pulled her close, buried his head in her neck, and inhaled long and deep. Before she could lock her hands behind his back, he pushed her away gently, and through her tears, she saw that Bear had pulled up with the gig, silent and waiting. Nash stared at her as if they were still alone. “I’m a selfish bastard, Lilias. I told you this because I have to let you go. You’ve haunted me like a ghost, and I need to let go. So promise me, swear to me, you won’t go on any more missions alone. I thought I could accompany you until Owen returns, but I can’t.”
“I swear it,” she choked out.
He nodded, then turned to Bear. “Can you see Lady Lilias home, please?”
She wanted to protest, to steal more time with him, but she knew this was best for both of them. So when Bear nodded, she didn’t argue. Nash stepped toward her, took her right hand in his, and brought it to his lips. His gaze met hers, and the heart-rending tenderness in his eyes was everything she had dreamed of, everything she had ever wanted, but it was too late. It was too late for them. Her pulse pounded, and her heart jolted as he brushed the softest kiss to the top of her hand. His touch sent gooseflesh over her body, and when he turned her palm over and kissed the inside of her wrist, she could not stop her moan of need. Their gazes met, clinging as he released her hand. Heat smoldered in his eyes, along with need and finality. Devastation swept over her, and she began to tremble.
Bear was there suddenly, taking her by the elbow and helping her into the gig, and when she turned to look at Nash, he was gone. She had no notion if he’d returned to the club or simply disappeared into the shadows, but he was gone. Gone from sight. Gone from her life, possibly forever. But he was lodged in her heart, desperately deep and permanent. She was his in the furthest reaches. Each beat was his. Each thought was his. She did not see how she could wed Owen knowing such a thing, but she did not see how she could do anything else.
Chapter Ten
A knock came at Lilias’s bedchamber door, but she did not respond, nor did she move from under her covers where she had been hiding, almost exclusively, for three days. She’d only come out to see to her most urgent needs of survival; to read a note sent to her by Helen in which Helen mentioned that the publisher was, thankfully, in the country for the remainder of the month so they had some time to obtain the manuscript; and lastly, to send the news in a letter to Frederica, along with Frederica’s locket and Lilias’s assurances that she would call upon Frederica in the next several days so they could discuss how to retrieve the manuscript from Mr. Levine.
When another knock came, Lilias called out, “Please go away,” and then she simply pulled the coverlet closer over her head, prepared to allow the same torturous thoughts about Nash that had infiltrated her mind continuously for days to do so once more. And they did—immediately. What had Nash meant when he’d said that he’d tried to help Owen win her? And when he’d said he’d almost doneitagain to Owen? Had he meant he’d almost pursued her in spite of knowing Owen liked her?
When her door banged open, she flinched and curled into a tight ball, but a throat clearing loudly and very near her compelled her to respond.
“I still have a megrim, Mama,” Lilias mumbled, certain it had to be her mother checking upon heragain. She’d been in several times a day for three days. Lilias knew her mother was worried, but if she admitted just how much she did not want to wed Owen, her mother would be even more concerned and possibly take to her own bed.
“It is not your mama.”
The coverlet was yanked from her head, and Lilias blinked, finding Guinevere standing over her, a worried look upon her face.
Behind Guinevere, Nora hovered with a rapt expression. “Nora, not now. Please,” Lilias begged. For once, her sister listened and quietly left the room, shutting the door behind her.
Lilias dragged herself into a sitting position and met her friend’s concerned gaze as Guinevere sat on the edge of Lilias’s bed. “What are you doing here?”
“For one thing, you missed a SLAR meeting this afternoon, and you have never missed a meeting. For another,” Guinevere continued, not giving Lilias time to offer an excuse, which was just as well because Lilias did not want to lie to her friend, “Greybourne came to the house today to speak with Asher, and he looked dreadful. As if he’d lost the person who meant the most to him in the world.”
That got Lilias’s full attention. Just the mention of Nash’s name made her heart twist in her chest. She sat all the way up, her heart now pounding. “Go on,” she said, knowing Guinevere well enough to understand she had a point she had just not gotten to yet.
Guinevere studied Lilias for a moment, her look going from one of concern to what Lilias considered scheming.
