“I do not understand.”
“I did love him.”
“You remember?”
“No.”
“Darling—”
“Listen, my lord. Please.” She slipped under his arm, too aware of the feeling of Tom’s fingers in her hair, on her neck, just moments before. “I thought I could discover my past without suffering any injury from it. I thought I could face the future with you if I were unfettered by all of these questions.” She hugged her arms. “But the truth is, as much as I wish to imagine my life began the day you rescued me under the elm tree, we both know it did not.”
“What are you saying?”
“That I cannot have both. I cannot have this.” She swept her hand to the cottage, ashamed that the tears finally lost control and rolled free. “Whatever I felt for Tom is … still there, somewhere inside me, whether I wish to admit it or not.”
“This is not your fault.”
“Nor is it yours, which is why I cannot allow you to suffer for it.” She smeared the tears with the back of her sleeve. “If things were different … in another life, I may have explored this new sentiment for Tom. I may, eventually, have loved him back.”
Lord Cunningham handed her a silk handkerchief.
She dabbed her eyes dry, and a mantel of duty fell over her shoulders, heavy and stifling. But she would grow stronger. This would be easier to carry. If she owed anything to anyone, it was to Lord Cunningham.
The one who had saved her life.
Protected her.
Now loved her—the Meg of today, not yesterday. “I gave you a promise, my lord, in the hopes I might please you. I gave that promise in haste. I need time to think. To choose how much of the old Meg Foxcroft I wish to carry into the future.”
“You wish to withdraw your consent to our matrimony?”
“I wish to postpone my answer, if you are not averse to it. And in the meantime, you must know I shall not be so unkind to you. If there are any more lessons with Mr. McGwen, they will be conducted at Penrose Abbey, with you present or any chaperone of your choice.”
“You are fair, you are forthright, and you are perfect.” He dipped his head up and down in acquiescence. “It shall be as you have deemed it.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
The back of his hand dragged down her cheek, smearing away the last of her tears. “No, my darling. Thankyou.For making me realize, all over again, how much I love you.”
She was struck with the impression it would be right to return his sentiment. But the words gathered on her tongue, then dissolved, and she said nothing back.
The up-down rhythm of the horse stormed the uneasy waves in her stomach.Forget it.She had done what needed to be done. Hadn’t she known that from the start of her lessons? That this was only temporary?
She had not said anything to Tom. Likely because she was a coward.
She’d only returned to the cottage long enough to slip back into her still-damp clothes and bid Tom a murmured goodnight.
He had not spoken back.
Only looked at her, as if he knew. Did he understand her so well?
In the distance, several low-pitched hoots echoed across the night. One footman rode ahead, Lord Cunningham beside her, and another footman behind. The field sloped into a grove of trees, and beyond the wooded path, Penrose Abbey would be waiting.
Home.
She swallowed. Why was she doing this? Pretending to grieve the loss of adventures she’d only ever resisted? She’d spent all of her time with Tom McGwen accusing him. Then quarreling with him. His offenses were to blame, of course. What were they again?
Violence.
