The Sweetest Sin

by Kelly Boyce

  His confession did little to ease the disappointment in James’s expression and Alex realized in that moment that while James did him a great service in warning him about the situation, in doing so, he’d assured their friendship would likely never recover.

  Alex would lose twice on this day.

  James ran a hand down his face but it did not erase the pain etched into the hard planes found here. “I will allow you to speak with Hen. To withdraw your offer before this goes any further. I only ask that you be gentle with the words you choose, but do not lie to her. Do not leave her with the hope that you might change your mind. I will not have her linger on a possibility that will never occur.”

  “You wish me to break her heart?” How could he?

  How could he not? He had a duty to his family. To his father.

  “You made your bed,” James said. “It is your responsibility to make amends. Just tell me one thing—does she love you?”

  Alex opened his mouth to respond then closed it. She had never said so. Nor had he, for that matter, but he felt it, deeply and without question. Hen was not the kind of woman who would gift him with her innocence without love being the driving force.

  “I believe so.”

  “God, Alex, why did you not come to me first?”

  “I did, if you’ll recall. Twice. Once before we left Breckenridge and once after Henrietta and I shared a kiss.”

  “And both times I warned you off! I said no. You should have bloody well trusted me! Had you done so, we would not be in this mess.”

  Alex couldn’t argue James’s claim, but he could point out the obvious. “If you had told me the reason behind your denial, I would have been better equipped to make a wiser decision.”

  Not that he had made the decision to love her. That had happened rather involuntarily and his mind had had little to do with the matter. That had been the providence of his heart. The foolish organ had slipped out of the darkness without warning and wrapped itself around her refusing to let go.

  “Would knowing have stopped you?”

  From loving her? No. From making love to her? From proposing? A heaviness fell over his heart, weighing it down and bullying it back into the shadows.

  “You know it would have.”

  What other choice did he have? He must produce an heir to the duchy, to continue the unbroken line between father and son that had existed for eight generations. And, as much as he had avoided his duty following Edward’s death, even he knew he could not do so forever. Duty and tradition trumped all. That was the way of their world.

  “I will leave the decision of what to do up to you, of course, but I would ask that you make it without delay. If you are to break my sister’s heart, I would prefer you do it quickly in the hope of minimizing the pain.”

  “I shall come by the house tomorrow then?” Though how he would tell her, he did not know. What words existed to soften the blow of his reneging on his proposal, snatching it back as if it had been offered without thought or feeling? As if he did not want to marry her every bit as much as she did he.

  James rubbed a hand across his forehead. “Very well.”

  Alex offered a curt nod but otherwise stood silent as James quit the room, his dearest friend offering a hand to his shoulder as he passed. Would James be so conciliatory, so magnanimous to allow him to break his offer of marriage, if he knew the depth of what Alex and Henrietta had shared the night before?

  No, he would not.

  Not that there was anything James could do that would improve upon the pain in Alex’s heart. For once more, he was a broken man. Once more, he had known the beauty of basking in the light of the sun only to have it burn through him, leaving nothing behind but a pile of ash to be blown away on the wind.

  Alex thought back to the night before, to that moment where his fear of loss made him hesitate in taking things beyond the point where he could not return. In retrospect, he should have listened to that fear. He should have backed away instead of forging ahead, but he hadn’t. He gave his heart its lead and went along for the ride as if everything would work out fine in the end.

  Experience alone should have told him that was not to be and now Alex found himself wallowing in the lowest levels of dissoluteness. He had taken her innocence. Regardless of whether or not she knew of her situation, the strong possibility she would not be able to bear him a child, he had lain with her. His conscience begged that he should marry her still.

  He had always thought himself a man of high principles. Of proper moral standing. A man who would do the right thing when the right thing was called for. Now he was faced with two rights in direct opposition—one to marry Hen and the other to do his duty to his family.

  What was right had taken on an ambiguity that led him to the only conclusion he could render.

  That when it came to matters of the heart, he was not a good man at all.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Lord Rothbury! What a lovely surprise.” Hen set aside her needlepoint and stood, feeling the heat flush her cheeks as Alex entered the room, his presence filling the space around her with masculine energy, bringing an awareness to her body that had not been there only two days previous.

  Behind him, her aunt lurked in the doorway, but did not enter. “I shall leave you two to your visit then, shall I? I hope you don’t mind, Henrietta, but I have some pressing correspondence to attend to.”

  Her aunt, usually a stickler for propriety, backed from the room, giving Alex what Hen took as a warning look, should he think to not be on his best behavior.

  The door was left ajar, though not so much someone walking past could see all the way in. Hen rushed forward and threw herself into Alex’s arms, having waited for this opportunity every second since he’d left the bed they’d shared. Oh, to return to that moment and pull him back beneath the covers. To let his body cover hers. Fill her. Bring her to heights of ecstasy she had not known even existed.

  Her reminiscence was short lived. His hands rested on her arms but he had not embraced her. In truth, she had the sense he was undecided as to whether to pull her in or…or push her away. Something cold trickled down her spine and bled into her veins.

  “Alex?” She looked up but his expression gave nothing away. It was almost as if she gazed upon a stranger.

  And then he made his choice. He pushed her away. Not harshly or forcibly, but with a gentle precision that cut deep into her heart. “I must speak with you. Come. Sit.”

  He pointed to the awaiting sofa near the window, still refusing to meet her gaze. She thought to refuse, but on what grounds? His manner foreshadowed bad news the way an ill wind did a forthcoming storm. And so she did as he bade, taking a seat in the hopes that if she did everything right, whatever news he had to tell would not be as bad as his behavior indicated.

  “Alex, you’re frightening me. Whatever is wrong? Is it your father?” Had he suffered another episode? She clutched at the bodice of her dress, her fingers working the small pearl buttons that held it together. Oh dear, had he passed on?

  Alex shook his head and took the seat next to the sofa, turning slightly to better face her. He reached for her hand then appeared to think better of it and pulled back. Hen’s heart beat faster, battering against her ribs.

  “I must speak to you with regards to my proposal of marriage.”

  “Oh. Yes, we should, shouldn’t we?” Relief rushed through her and a small laugh escaped. How silly of her to worry. No wonder he behaved in such a way. Marriage was, of course, a serious matter.

  He gave her an odd look that she didn’t understand. “Then you know?”

  “Well, yes, of course.” Why was he looking at her that way? There were details that must be ironed out, such as when and how to announce the news to their families. To Society. A future duke did not take a wife without much pomp and circumstance.

  “James spoke to you?”

  His question caught her off guard. “James?”

  “About my need to rescind my
offer of marriage.”

  Hen heard the words. He spoke them clearly and succinctly, each one framed with soft purpose. Yet she did not understand a single one of them. Especially rescind. As that meant to take back. Withdraw. And of course he could not—no, would not—withdraw his proposal of marriage. Not after what they had shared. Her ears had obviously played tricks on her.

  Silly ears. She laughed and shook her head. But Alex’s expression did not change and the air in the room became heavy. So heavy, she could barely breathe it in and when she did, it clogged her lungs until they screamed for relief. She’d experienced something similar when she’d been pinned to the floor by the beam, the fire raging around her. Into her.

  “Say something,” he whispered, the command harsh and littered with the debris of the words he’d already spoken. Words she refused to hear. Words she refused to acknowledge because acknowledging them would make them real and they could not be real. He loved her. Didn’t he?

  But he hadn’t said so, had he? Not once. Not even a little.

  Her lungs sucked in the air but it offered little relief from the pain burrowing into her chest.

  “Hen?”

  She shook her head, not because she didn’t hear this time, but because she did. “Don’t call me that.” Only her friends called her that and any man who would take her innocence as if such an event was of little consequence, then toss her aside, did not own that prerogative.

  “Henrietta—”

  “Or that.”

  He pursed his lips. “Forgive me, I thought—” He stopped then reached for her hand once more, but this time it was she who snatched it away as her heart recoiled from what was happening and her mind watched the event as if from a distance. “I misunderstood. For a moment I thought you knew why I had come.”

  “I thought you had come to speak to James about our engagement, not to—to break it off!”

  The words choked out of her, scraping across her heart, leaving behind deep grooves that would take a long time to heal. How was it that words could hurt so thoroughly, worse even than the licks of the fire? The fire might have destroyed her skin and left behind a mottled wasteland in its path, but this…these words, they destroyed her heart, devastating the tender organ in a way fire never could.

  “I don’t understand,” she said. She looked over at him. He looked awful. Handsome, yes, but awful, as if he hadn’t slept a wink since they’d parted. As if he’d received the worst possible news and been ravaged by it. Except that couldn’t be true, because she was the one receiving the worst possible news and he was the one delivering it in a quiet, dispassionate voice. Had he rehearsed what he had planned to say before he arrived here to break her heart? And what had caused this sudden turnabout? Had he, with time to reflect upon what had occurred between them, realized the folly of his actions?

  Had it not been real?

  Alex had come to her from his father’s sickbed and she had offered him comfort. Welcomed him with open arms. Allowed him to undress her. She had all but presented herself to him and he, a man, had unwrapped his gift willingly. Naturally, he had done the right thing by offering marriage. But had he, after thought and reflection, determined such was not necessary?

  Alex cleared his throat and looked away toward the barely opened door. Auntie must have known what was about to occur. It was the only thing that made sense in her leaving them alone in such a manner. But how? She’d told no one of his proposal. Dear heaven! Did James and Auntie know they had…that they’d…

  But that did not make sense. If James had known her innocence was gone, given to the man sitting before her breaking her heart, he would never allow him to default on his promise of marriage. More likely James would have a preacher and special license procured in record time and march Alex to the church with a pistol at his back.

  “I require an heir,” he said, the words spoken quietly. Definitively.

  “An heir?” A hand went to her belly. A lump of fear lodged in her throat and try as she might, she could not swallow it down.

  “Did you know?” He asked. “That you cannot bear children?”

  How definitive he was. How absolute where even the doctors could not come to a consensus. “It is not for certain that I cannot.”

  For years, she had subjected herself to intrusive exams by doctors, determined to assess her fitness to bear children and for years their answers came back, each one contradicting the other. Some claimed she could become pregnant but likely not carry to term. Others were convinced the beam had caused too much damage to her womb and no seed would ever grow there. A few claimed the scars on her belly would not stretch properly to allow a child to grow. She had spent years listening to their back and forth answers: Possibly. Unlikely. Maybe. Definitely not. Too dangerous. Not feasible. Perhaps.

  But she had hoped. She had hoped with the fervor of a woman who desired for nothing more than a family of her own. And so she had pushed away the negatives and held tight to the belief that if she wished hard enough she could will it to happen.

  Alex, however, did not share that belief. Clearly.

  “I am the last male heir in my family. For eight generations the St. John men have carried the duchy from father to son.” He looked at her and the pain in his gaze was almost enough to push past her own. Almost, but not quite. “I have a duty. Father is not well and…I need to do this for him. I need him to know I have not failed. That the duchy will continue.”

  His words implored her to understand, but all she heard was that his duty was more important to him than she was. That when all was said and done, she was nothing more than a vessel to carry his duty to fruition. Except that her vessel was reportedly damaged. Inhospitable. That was what one doctor had claimed. The word had stuck in the back of her mind like a black mark against her soul she had yet to scour clean.

  “But you promised—” She stopped. “We—” And stopped again. Something deep inside pulled at her pride, resurrected it, held it up as a shield until she straightened her backbone and remembered who she was. What she was. She was Lady Henrietta Harrow. Daughter of the late Marquess and Marchioness of Ridgemont. Sister of James.

  Survivor of much.

  She would not break now. She could not. If she did, she may never find all the pieces to put herself back together with.

  “I will of course wait to ensure that you are not with child.” He looked so hopeful, but his words were laced with the doubt of a man who did not believe such would come to pass. She wanted to reach across the space between them and slap him. Hard. If she was with child she was of value to him. If she was not, well, I much enjoyed the time we spent together, so sorry for taking your innocence and all that rot and off you go!

  “Get out.” The words slid out of her hard and without compromise.

  “Hen—”

  “You may address me as Lady Henrietta, although to be honest, Lord Rothbury, I would prefer if you not address me at all. Not now and not going forward. Our association has ended and along with it any friendship we may have entertained.” She stood, holding her spine erect. She titled her chin as he stood but did not bend before him.

  “If there was any other way.”

  “There is another way, you simply choose not to take it. A pity really,” she said, fire heating her veins until the anger within her, the anger that had simmered beneath the surface since her arrival in London nearly a year before, boiled over. “I thought you to be a good man, but I see I was mistaken. From what I can see, you are not much of a man at all.”

  She turned on her heel and strode to the door, pulling it open without hesitation and marching down the hallway, only vaguely aware of Auntie who called her name from nearby. She must have been waiting. She must have thought to find Hen devastated, as she was when Pengrin played her false. But what she had felt for Pengrin was nothing in comparison to her feelings for Alex—Lord Rothbury. This hurt went deep. So deep it surpassed tears. It surpassed everything and reached a place that knew only cold and ice and deso
lation. A place where the fire could never reach.

  She would wrap these things around her. She would make them her closest companion.

  And these things, they would keep her safe.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The remainder of June moved at a glacial pace, dragging forward like a cold winter instead of the balmy summer it foreshadowed. There were teas and musicals, balls and the theatre and dinner parties galore. Hen went to all these events; head held high, hair pulled back, scars in full view for all who cared to look upon them. She cared little.

  She was a woman forged in fire, after all. And a woman who had been forged in fire did not fear a little rain.

  “Bring on the storm. Do your worst,” she whispered, letting her gaze skim over the crowded ballroom at Lady Purefoy’s latest fete. “I am ready.”

  “Have you taken to talking to yourself, Hen?”

  She turned toward the voice. James had accompanied her this night. Unusual for him, as he preferred to avoid such events whenever possible, leaving their aunt to play chaperone. But ever since Alex had rescinded his offer of marriage, her brother had been stuck to her side. She could not move left or right without tripping over him. It had become rather annoying.

  “Why not,” she said. “Who better to talk to? I always find myself most agreeable.”

  James dipped his dark head and a small smile pulled at the corner of his lips. “Ah, is that the return of your humor I hear? If so, I find it most welcomed.”

  “I’m afraid not. It is simply a fact. I have, however, returned to my senses and have decided this shall be my last party of the Season.” A determination she had made only this morning, but that had been solidified the longer she stood on the sidelines of Lady Purefoy’s too small ballroom.

  “Hen—” James started, but she cut him off.

  “No, James. I am done here.” She glanced up at him. “We have done it your way for two Seasons and it has been a proper disaster. I am done. I wish to return to leave. I have already spoken to Auntie and I will set about making the arrangements tomorrow.”