Otherwise Engaged

by Joanna Barker

  “Gone?” he supplied. “Married? I am well aware. But staying is not an option. Not in a house I had meant to share with you.”

  I closed my eyes against the vision that caught me. He and I, together at Linwood, filling that quiet house with laughter and light.

  But that was impossible.

  “I must go,” he said.

  I forced my eyes open as he turned away.

  “Please.” The word escaped from my mouth as I stepped forward. “Please do not leave like this.”

  He stopped. “And how would you have us part? As friends?”

  I said nothing, my stomach a knotted mess. I wrapped my arms around my waist as if that would help the pain.

  His expression softened by the slightest degree. “We cannot be friends, Rebecca. You must see that. There is too much between us.”

  “Perhaps in time, we might—”

  “My feelings will not change,” he said sharply. “But you do not love me, and I’ll not torture myself by watching you marry another.”

  I stared at him, unable to respond. Because a truth had begun to pound inside me, one I’d never given voice to, never admitted. I pressed a fist to my heart, trying to silence it, keep it from spilling all it contained.

  Nicholas was too perceptive. He narrowed his eyes at me, scrutinizing every inch of my face. “Am I . . .” He stopped, then shook his head. “Am I wrong, Rebecca?”

  I backed away a step as heat billowed across my cheeks and neck. Why could I never hide my feelings?

  “Am I wrong?” he asked again, certainty growing in his voice. “Do you love me?”

  I shook my head wildly, but he did not seem to notice. He stepped closer.

  “Tell me right now that you do not love me,” he ordered. “Tell me, and I’ll stop. I’ll leave.”

  I opened my mouth, then slammed it shut, biting my lip hard. I tasted blood for a moment before it faded.

  He took my face in his hands, and his fingers buried themselves in the hair at the nape of my neck. He wore no gloves, and his touch was electrifying, sending a wave of shivers across my skin.

  “Tell me I am wrong,” he whispered again.

  I couldn’t.

  And he knew it.

  He pulled me to him, his lips finding mine as if he’d done it a thousand times. My hands pressed against his chest, trapped between us, but I made no effort to free them.

  Because I was lost.

  Lost in the emotion that flooded my chest in a raging torrent. Lost to the heat that flamed everywhere he touched me. Lost to my own mind, which ceased to function the moment his lips touched mine.

  Only the small, real things brought me back. The smooth silk of his waistcoat beneath my fingertips. His smell, a delicious spice blended with the scent of the woods. And his mouth. His mouth doing lovely, heart-stopping things to mine.

  He pulled back abruptly, and I gasped as I stared up at him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said in an exhale, his eyes determined. “But I cannot—”

  I did not let him finish. I threw my arms around his neck and rose onto my toes as I forced his lips to meet mine again. A deep sound escaped his throat, and his hands slid to encircle my waist. He pressed me up to him so my feet nearly left the ground altogether. This was not Nicholas’s sweet and gentle kiss from that night on the stairs. No, this kiss held a new intensity, a new hunger. He held me tightly, as if daring me to pull away, and his lips traced the shape of mine, learning their secrets as no one ever had before.

  My insides rioted—reckless exhilaration battled against the sharp ache in my chest. I should not be kissing Nicholas. I knew it. And yet, there was no force that could tear me from him in that moment. He kissed me again and again as his hands explored every inch of my back, leaving a searing heat in their path. My fingers curled into his hair, and his heart beat against mine, matched in rhythm.

  I had never let myself imagine what it would be like to be truly kissed by him, to be loved by him. It was more intoxicating than anything I’d ever experienced. Not even an exhilaratingly perfect jump could rival this headiness.

  When I finally drew away to breathe, he again brought his hands to my face, cradling my cheeks and not allowing any distance between us. My lungs could not draw enough air—my chest rose and fell too quickly.

  “I knew,” he whispered. “I knew you loved me, yet I convinced myself it could not be.”

  I shook my head, my voice vanished. I tried to manage my breathing. In and out, deep and slow.

  “You cannot marry him now.” Nicholas’s voice grew insistent, his hands around my face firmer. “You have to see that.”

  I blinked up at Nicholas. He looked so handsome, with his jaw set and fair hair ruffled, that my stomach flipped madly inside me. My hands, still wrapped around his neck, slid down his jacket and came to rest over his broad chest. “I love you.” My voice cracked like a vase shattered on the ground. “But I should not.”

  “You do not mean that.”

  “I do.” The pure pleasure of our kiss began to seep away as reality slipped back into my life. “I never meant for it to happen or to ever confess my feelings, even to myself. But of course you had to be wonderful and kind and—” I shook my head.

  Nicholas did not speak, only watched me. Shame filled every last inch of me, like the swells of an angry sea. What had I done? How could I kiss him, hurt him when my heart was not mine to give?

  “Nicholas.” I let my hands fall from his chest. “I—I’m sorry. So sorry. I should not have done that.”

  “And why not? No vows have been said.” He nearly growled, refusing to give up his hold around my face.

  “I am engaged.” I choked on the word.

  “And an engagement has never been broken before?”

  I opened my mouth to respond, but no words found their way from the tangled web of my mind.

  “I made a promise,” I somehow whispered.

  “A promise?” A hint of anger. His hands dropped to my elbows. “You would so easily dismiss everything you know is real and true simply for a promise?”

  I stepped back, pulling free of his arms. I needed distance from him. He let me go, though his eyes still blazed.

  “This is not simple in any way,” I insisted. “I spent the last two months fighting to marry Edward, and now—” I waved a hand wildly in the air, my words barely clinging to reason. “Now I feel as if I took a wrong turn on a road I’ve known my entire life, and I do not know how to find my way back.”

  “Then let us take that road together.” Nicholas stepped forward. “I would walk any road, travel endless miles so long as I am with you.”

  His words ripped at me. I did not deserve his love, his kind words. Not when I kept hurting him again and again.

  “You do not love him,” he said. “I know you do not.”

  He was wrong. I did love Edward, even if that love was different than what I felt for Nicholas. And that was precisely the problem.

  A woman should never have room in her heart for two men.

  “You would not be happy with him.” Nicholas did not back away. “And it is clear to me that you only agreed to marry him because of the risk, the excitement.”

  I stared at him. “What?”

  His eyes narrowed. “I am no fool. I see this engagement for what it is—a flight of fancy. You could have had your choice of suitors, I have no doubt, and yet you engaged yourself to the one man your family disapproved of. You could not resist the thrill of such high stakes, just as you cannot resist riding bareback or jumping hedges.”

  The earth felt uneven beneath my feet. “Is that what you think of me?” I rasped. “Irrational and reckless?”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “Confound it, Rebecca, that is not what I meant.”

  “But it is what you said.”

  “Bec
ause I am angry,” he said. “Angry and desperate. You cannot marry him, and I am trying to understand why you cannot see it as clearly as I do.”

  Nothing was clear in this moment. I turned my back to him and paced a few steps away. I needed space. I could not think when the memory of our kiss lingered between us. I pressed a hand to my forehead, an attempt to relieve the pressure building there. His words pounded into my mind, confusing me and turning me about so quickly that my thoughts tripped over each other.

  “I want to marry you, Rebecca,” Nicholas said from behind me. “But if you will not see reason, I am at a loss.”

  Every inch of me protested, begging me to turn back to Nicholas. But I could not. Because that darkness had taken hold inside me, a nauseating mixture of guilt and regret and self-loathing. As my head continued to spin, I knew I could not trust either it or my heart to come to an agreement.

  Nicholas’s footsteps crunched through the dry grass, and I dropped my hand from my forehead as I turned. But he was not coming toward me. He stalked across the meadow, and as he disappeared into the trees, he did not look back.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I did not know how long I stayed in the meadow. The night grew dark and cold around me as I sat on my flat rock, my arms wrapped around my knees. My thin, silk evening gown did nothing to warm me.

  You only agreed to marry him because of the risk, the excitement. Nicholas’s voice tortured me again and again as our conversation—our argument—paraded through my head. Each unflinching word stabbed a new wound inside me until my chest felt raw and weak. Was he right? I tried to think back on those few weeks in Brighton with as much indifference as I could. I’d been immediately attracted to Edward, I knew that much. He was handsome, charming, witty. But I’d met my share of handsome, charming, and witty gentleman. London was full of them. What was it about Edward that had drawn me to him?

  My memories settled on that first night, the dinner party where we’d met. We had laughed and talked all through dinner, then when we’d adjourned to the drawing room, his mother had immediately dragged him away to another corner of the room, glaring at me. It wasn’t until we met again at an assembly a few days later that Edward had told me of our families' enmity. And when he had . . .

  My arms tightened around my knees. When he had, I’d felt that thrill. That thrill of excitement that told me I should back away, retreat. But I hadn’t. I’d thrown myself toward it without hesitation, involving myself with a man I had hardly known simply because I shouldn’t have.

  Nicholas was right. I was irrational and reckless, though those were my words and not his. That did not change the truth of them. When Edward had proposed, I had not stopped to think of the consequences, though I’d known there were plenty. I only thought of myself and what I thought I wanted.

  Nothing had changed in the time since.

  While being engaged to Edward, I’d allowed myself to fall in love with Nicholas. I’d been so naive as to think I could be friends with him, but I had known all along there was more than friendship between us. If I’d had any kind of integrity, I would have cut off all ties to Nicholas ages ago, before this mess had gone any further. Instead, I’d encouraged our relationship, betraying Edward—and myself—in the process.

  I was selfish and senseless and foolish. I was everything I’d been trying to prove I wasn’t.

  And the knowledge choked me like a weed.

  When I finally escaped from the fog that was my own head, the last traces of daylight had vanished, the sky painted inky black. I gathered William’s pistols with wooden movements and packed them away in their box, then carried it under my arm as I trudged back to Havenfield, each step heavier and heavier. The nearly full moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery sheen across the grounds.

  I made my way across the lawn, but as I approached Havenfield, I slowed my pace. I did not know the time. Was dinner over? Had they all gone into the drawing room after my abrupt departure, or had everyone gone to bed? I had no desire whatsoever to speak to anyone.

  Unfortunately, my wish went unfulfilled.

  “There you are,” a male voice said as I stepped inside a minute later. I tensed until I realized it was not Edward’s voice. William stood at the door to his study, watching me closely. “Mama was beginning to worry.”

  “I needed a walk,” I said rather lamely.

  His eyes focused on the box I held in my arms. “With my pistols?”

  “Oh.” I’d forgotten I carried them. “I borrowed them. I am sorry. I should have asked.”

  William stepped toward me. “I feel there is something of a story behind this.” His expression softened. “But not tonight, I think. Here, I will take that.”

  I handed him the box, glad to be rid of its weight.

  He tucked it under his arm. “I’ll tell Mama you’ve returned.”

  “Thank you.” I rubbed my forehead. “Will you also tell her I’ve gone to bed, please?” All I wanted at that moment was the encircling blankets of my bed and the crackling of my fire.

  “Of course.” William looked for a moment like he wanted to say something more, but he shook his head instead. “Good night, Rebecca.”

  “Good night, William.”

  I escaped upstairs, my footsteps quiet. When I reached my room, I did not call for Fawcett. I removed every pin from my hair and let my curls fall haphazardly around my shoulders, then slipped from my evening gown and into my night rail. I climbed into bed, shivering though a fire burned in my grate only feet away.

  Nicholas loved me. He wanted to marry me. And now, lying in my bed and clutching my blankets around me, I could finally admit that I wanted him. I wanted more of him. All of him. I wanted his quiet steadiness, his confidence, his willingness to do anything for those he loved. When he looked at me with those intent green eyes, I had no defense. When he kissed me . . . Well, when he kissed me, I lost any ability to think whatsoever.

  I allowed myself a brief, agonizing moment to imagine. To dream of saying yes to Nicholas and seeing his expression lift, his soft smile appear. Our quiet wedding at Millbury’s church. A not-so-quiet life, full of laughter and disagreements and trials. A family, together with Olivia and our own children.

  Children.

  The pain of that thought was too much for me, and I sat up in bed. I could not do this any longer. Carefully, deliberately, I tore those hopes from my future. The holes left jagged edges inside me.

  I was not meant to be with Nicholas. And neither was I meant to be with Edward.

  The past few weeks had revealed parts of myself I’d never seen before, and as difficult as the truth was to face, I now knew what my course would be.

  Because I could see myself clearly, as if the answer had always been waiting for me but I’d never wished to discover it. I was the sort of woman who fell in love with another man while engaged. I was the sort of woman who had never longed to have children. I was the sort of woman who lied to my family for weeks because I thought I knew best.

  My heart was fickle, and I would not subject any man to its unreliability.

  Both Edward and Nicholas were too good for me—too kind, too honorable. Neither deserved a wife such as I.

  So I would let Nicholas leave tomorrow. He would return to the navy, to the life he loved, and then he would find someone new to love. Someone who would be better for him and for Olivia. I’d never been anything more than a bare imitation of a friend to her. I could not be her mother, nor did she wish me to be. But she needed a guiding influence in her life, and Nicholas would undoubtedly find a woman who could do the job much better than I could.

  And Edward. My stomach twisted at the thought of having to hurt him. But I had never loved him as I should, and I could not betray him any longer. That was the least I could do now, considering what I’d already done to him.

  I lay back on my pillow, the cool fabric soothing
against the heat of my face. I waited for the rightness of my decision to settle on me, to relieve the coiling pit inside my stomach.

  But there was nothing but sadness and regret.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I slept. Somehow.

  But when the first light of dawn met my windows the next morning, I awoke, blinking back exhaustion. I ached like that summer day all those years ago when I’d been thrown from my horse. But I did not think I could recover from this kind of brokenness.

  I dragged myself from my blankets and rang for Fawcett. She said only a few words as she helped me dress in my riding habit and then fixed my hair, not asking the obvious questions. Why was I awake at this hour? Why were my eyes rimmed in red? Why on earth was I going riding?

  I wasn’t riding, though, not yet. Not until I’d spoken to Edward. But once I did, I would need to escape and drown my emotions in a dizzying gallop.

  After helping me place my riding hat on my head—Nicholas’s hat—Fawcett left, and I took a steadying breath. I’d never ended an engagement before, but I could not imagine Edward would be terribly pleased about it. I tried to prepare myself for anything, for his hurt, his anger, his sadness. But it would be better in the end, after this all faded. Better for him.

  The sky outside was covered in deep-gray clouds, but even still, I could tell the sun would fully rise soon. The room remained light around me as I blew out my candle and slipped into the hallway. I tried very hard not to think about the fact that Nicholas was likely preparing to leave for Portsmouth at this very moment.

  The house stood quiet and still, though I knew most of the servants were already awake belowstairs. I made my way down the corridor to Edward’s room, placed a great distance from my own. Mama’s doing, no doubt.

  I stopped outside his door and attempted to collect my thoughts. When I realized that would never happen, I sighed and knocked softly three times.

  No response, though I waited a long minute. I knocked again, a little louder. I heard shuffling within, then footsteps. The door parted, and Edward appeared, wrapped haphazardly in his banyan, eyes bleary and hair askew.