When she sent Ash a tremulous smile of sadness and regret, he looked relieved. Despite their audience on the hillside, he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his chest. His strength was palpable, surrounding her, comforting her.
However, Ash being Ash, he couldn’t resist provoking her. “I never thought you of all people would turn into a watering pot, vixen.”
Maura gave a shaky laugh against his coat front.
Tender amusement sounded in his voice. “I told you that you could trust me, did I not?”
“Yes, I believe you did.” He hadn’t given up, even when she had begged him to. She owed him a debt she could never repay, Maura knew.
“I am so very grateful to you, Ash,” she murmured. “I don’t know how I could possibly thank you.”
He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “You needn’t thank me, love. It is satisfaction enough, seeing Deering get his just reward.”
His declaration reminded her just how they had come to be in this situation in the first place. The realization served to jolt Maura out of her daze and bring her sharply back to reality.
She had resolved that once her father’s name was cleared, she would settle her uncertain future with Ash … and now that time was at hand. To be fair, she couldn’t hold him to their temporary betrothal. He had only proposed in the first place because he’d wanted to defeat Deering. Now that goal was met, there was no more reason for them to continue the pretense of an engagement.
“Come, Thomas will drive you home,” Ash said, interrupting her thoughts. Releasing her from his embrace, he turned her toward his coach. “Quinn is right—we need to celebrate tonight.”
Maura, however, doubted she would feel much like celebrating. Not when she had to give Ash his freedom.
Suddenly her throat was clogged with tears for reasons that had little to do with her father’s vindication. She should be enraptured just now, since this was a profoundly joyous occasion. Yet as she accompanied Ash to his carriage, all Maura could think about was how badly she wished their betrothal could be real, and how unlikely it was that her wish would ever be granted.
During the entire drive home, Maura argued with herself about when and how to resolve her future with Ash. As a gentleman, he could not honorably end their betrothal. Thus, she would have to be the one to do it, or at least give him the chance to withdraw his formal offer of marriage. But the pressing question was, should she broach the subject as soon as Ash returned home?
Her stomach churned with anxiety as she considered his possible responses. In order to protect her, he might decide to continue their deception a while longer, until the conflict with Deering was unequivocally settled and he actually left the country. Or, since Ash had claimed her virginity, he might even offer to marry her for real in an attempt to be noble.
Maura knew she had to make the same effort at nobility. She didn’t want to trap Ash into matrimony or force him to be shackled unwillingly to her for the rest of his life.
He would likely leap at the offer of his freedom, Maura feared. He didn’t love her. He had won her heart so effortlessly—in scarcely more than a week, in fact—but she hadn’t won his.
Admittedly, a tiny piece of her foolish heart held out hope that perhaps in time, with a great deal of luck, Ash might one day change his mind about her and come to see her differently, as something more than an intriguing experiment or a pleasurable game or his chosen lover of the moment. But the sensible part of her knew she was only indulging in fanciful dreams.
Idiotic, pointless dreams.
Ash wasn’t the kind of man to fall in love. He frequently called her “love,” but that was the same casual endearment he used with his sister and his cousin Skye, and no doubt with numerous other women in a manifestation of his rakish charm. Such endearments were meaningless in revealing the true state of a man’s heart.
She would be wise to crush her foolish hopes, Maura chided herself. She didn’t dare let herself believe in happy fairy-tale endings when doing so would likely result in devastating disappointment.
Yet despite her vow to be pragmatic, she couldn’t keep knots of dread from tightening her stomach at the necessity of parting from Ash now that there was no justification for remaining with him.
When Maura arrived home, she inquired after Katharine’s whereabouts and discovered her breakfasting with the rest of the Wilde clan—Skye, Lord Cornelius, Lady Isabella, and Lord Jack—in a family gathering.
They all rose from the table at Maura’s entrance, but Katharine was the first to ask with a trace of apprehension, “What news have you, Maura? We have been anxiously waiting to hear the outcome of the duel.”
“It has been called off,” she announced, which elicited varying expressions of relief from the company. The elders exhaled audibly while Skye murmured, “Thank heaven.”
Katharine also blew out her breath, but then said rather cheerfully, “I confess, I was not overly afraid for Ash. This is not the first duel in our family, and my hair would be gray if I worried every time my reckless brothers or cousins”—she directed a pointed look at Jack—“did something dangerous or rash.”
“I was not in the least worried,” Jack commented with a provoking grin. “As I told Miss Collyer last evening, Ash can take care of himself.”
“You were concerned for him, too, dear brother,” Kate retorted in a ribbing tone. “Why else would you have joined us at this early hour, long before you usually rise?”
“Perhaps because your chef sets a fine breakfast table?”
Their good-natured squabbling brought a faint smile to Maura’s lips, but Skye quickly intervened. “Hush, you two! I want Maura to tell us what happened this morning. We heard from our servants about Deering’s treacherous ambush, but nothing since then. Why was the duel canceled?”
Maura told them in detail, recounting how Ash had skillfully compelled Deering’s admission of guilt and the conditions under which his dishonor would remain concealed from the Beau Monde. At her conclusion, Katharine and Skye both hugged her happily, after which Jack demanded an embrace also.
With reluctant amusement, Maura complied, then thanked all the Wildes profusely for helping to remove the ugly stain on her father’s memory. When she asked about the groom with the head wound, Katharine said the lad was resting quietly after being tended and bandaged by their physician and was expected to make a full recovery.
Maura didn’t doubt that after the carriage house battle, Katharine had taken charge as mistress of the manor to bring order out of chaos and see to the injured. Kate now assumed her frequent mother-hen role with Maura.
“Do sit down and eat with us, dearest. I’ll wager you skipped breakfast and are famished.”
Maura’s appetite was entirely nonexistent, however, even though she hadn’t eaten a thing since yesterday’s dinner. “Thank you, but I would rather go upstairs to my bedchamber and repair my dishevelment.” Not only did she need to wash and change her clothes and tame her unpinned hair, but she knew she would be terrible company in her present dismal mood.
“Then I will send up a tray for you,” Katharine said, linking their arms in a sisterly fashion. She accompanied Maura out into the corridor, where she made use of their relative privacy to resume her favorite theme of late.
“So now that your father’s reputation will be restored, Maura, you will surely proceed with wedding Ash, won’t you?”
Loath to be drawn into a discussion about her dubious matrimonial prospects, Maura responded with a pained smile and parried the question. “The matter is still unsettled,” she murmured, before kissing her friend’s cheek and excusing herself.
Yet as she trudged up to her bedchamber, her agitated thoughts remained fixed on that very quandary, like a tongue probing a sore tooth. She badly wanted to delay facing Ash, but perhaps she had best get it over with at once, to learn her fate and end this torturous uncertainty.
When she spoke to Ash, she would dispassionately release him f
rom any further obligation toward her and state her plans to return home to Suffolk, then judge his reaction. If he put up no resistance, she would not break down in tears, Maura vowed. She couldn’t let her pitiful emotions override her resolve. Nor could she make Ash feel guilty about ending their association. She had to be strong and do the honorable thing.
She would force herself to smile and accept whatever decision he made regarding their future together.
Even so, Maura wondered how she would endure it if he decided their affair was over, for the loneliness and hurt would be unbearable.
She did not have long to wait, since Ash returned by late morning. Maura had planted herself in the front parlor to watch for Lord Traherne’s carriage, and as soon as she heard Ash being admitted to the entrance hall, she went to greet him.
She was keenly aware of the dread squeezing her chest, but one look at the worsening cuts and bruises on his face and knuckles drove all thoughts of a confrontation from her mind.
“You should let me tend those scrapes,” she said urgently.
Ash seemed surprised by her offer. “You are a woman of many talents, love, but I didn’t realize you were skilled as a medic.”
“I have cared for plenty of wounded horses in my time.”
A gleam of amusement lit his eyes. “Should I be flattered that you are comparing me to a horse?”
Maura ignored his levity. “Where are your medical supplies?”
“Our housekeeper has a store of salves and bandages in her office.”
Maura asked the footman on duty in the hall to fetch a basin of warm water from the kitchens. Then she accompanied Ash to the housekeeper’s office, where she proceeded to gather the supplies she would need to patch up his injuries.
Once the basin was delivered and the footman dismissed, she ordered Ash to sit down in a wooden chair while she worked. She cleaned his wounds with soap and water and applied basilicum ointment, ministrations which he bore without protest. When she dabbed a damp cloth at the deep cut above his eyebrow, however, he winced reflexively.
“I’m sorry to hurt you,” she apologized sincerely.
“It is no matter. My chest pains me more, to be truthful.”
“From the blows you took to your torso? Let me see.”
After a slight hesitation, Ash opened his coat and waistcoat, then gingerly raised his shirt to bare his chest.
Seeing that his ribs were covered with brown and purple splotches, Maura bit her lower lip in sympathy.
“I will survive,” Ash claimed, watching her. “I’ve suffered much worse brawling with Jack and Quinn during our salad days.”
“Is that how you knew to defend yourself from those brutes’ vicious blows? Your childhood bouts of fisticuffs?”
“That and various sparring matches at Gentleman Jackson’s.” He meant the boxing salon run by a former national champion, Maura knew.
She used a gentle touch to probe Ash’s ribs. “I don’t believe anything is broken. I could make up a warm poultice and wrap your chest, or I could just apply some liniment to ease the pain and bruising.”
“The liniment will do. I am not an invalid.”
Maura complied, carefully smoothing a pungent yellow ointment over the discolorations and rubbing it into his skin.
“Thank you, love,” Ash said, easing his shirt down again. “That does indeed feel better.”
Knowing there was nothing more to be done for him, Maura washed and dried her hands, then busied herself returning the supplies to the closet shelf, drawing out the moment as she tried to gather her courage.
Realizing she was purposely delaying, she cleared her throat and began in a small voice. “Ash, I have been thinking.”
“Yes?”
“I believe it is time for me to return home to Suffolk.”
At his lack of response, she glanced over her shoulder with trepidation. He had raised an eyebrow, as if waiting for further explanation.
“You see … Gandy has his hands full with the spring foaling and badly needs my help. And I ought to bring Emperor home as well.”
“Of course,” Ash said in an even tone.
“I don’t wish to seem ungrateful,” Maura added in a rush, “by disappearing the instant my problems are settled, but there is no reason for me to remain here.” She took a deep breath to brace herself. “There is no reason to continue our charade, either.”
Ash’s gaze stayed fixed on her. “No reason?” he repeated slowly. “You mean you want to end our betrothal?”
What she wanted was entirely beside the point, Maura thought despairingly. “Yes.” There, she had said it. She had provided him the excuse to back out if he wished to.
“You seem to be in a hurry,” Ash remarked at last. “Why such haste?”
“I am in no hurry,” she lied. “I just no longer need the protection of your name, now that you have dealt with Deering.”
His gaze was unusually penetrating, yet Maura couldn’t read his enigmatic expression.
“You never wanted to wed me in the first place,” she reminded him. “You only proposed a temporary arrangement as a means to protect me.”
“True.”
At his brusque reply, the pain that stabbed her was sharp and piercing. Maura suddenly felt as if she couldn’t breathe.
Ash’s next comment was not any more comforting, either. “If there should be a child … you know that will change things. You will have to wed me then.”
She nodded, although the ache in her throat wouldn’t let her speak. Ash was saying he would be willing to marry her if she was with child, but he was offering her no professions of love or even affection. His expression was starkly solemn, devoid of all emotion.
She wanted him to say something—anything—to prevent her from leaving, but his grave silence drew out.
“Very well,” he said finally. “When do you plan to leave?”
She had her answer, Maura realized, feeling the pain intensify. If he loved her, he would not let her go so readily.
Blindly she turned back to the supplies and finished arranging them neatly on the shelf. She was crying inside, but she wouldn’t let him see it. “Today. This afternoon,” she whispered past the ache in her throat.
“You are welcome to stay here longer if you wish.”
“I know.” Clamping her teeth together to hold back a sob, Maura pasted a smile on her lips as she faced him again.
Ash had risen from his chair and was frowning now. In fact his expression was almost a scowl as he said in that same gruff tone, “You will use my traveling chaise to convey you home.”
“There is no need to trouble yourself,” Maura managed. “I have my gig here in London.”
“I am not letting you travel all that way on your own. Not until I’m certain Deering is gone from England and there is no further risk of his retaliating.”
In answer, Maura nodded mutely and headed for the door.
As she passed him, Ash stepped closer. “Maura …”
When he reached out a hand, though, she flinched and quickly moved around him. If he touched her now, she would be lost.
She made it out to the corridor by putting one foot in front of the other, but her eyes were so blurred she could barely see.
She would leave for home immediately, Maura vowed. It might be cowardly to flee from Ash so abruptly, but staying would make it even harder for her to tear herself away in a week or two weeks or a month from now, when she fell even more desperately in love with him.
She felt too deeply for him already, that was the agonizing truth.
She would not tell Katharine about her departure this time either, for Kate would only argue and try to convince her to reconsider, and then Maura would break down and sob out her pathetic feelings of unrequited love.
Yes, she could remain here in London for a time, gathering memories of Ash and his family to solace her in the interminable years ahead, when she would be all alone. But living here under the same roof with him would be impos
sible. Seeing him each and every day but unable to be with him, to touch him, to love him, would be excruciating.
She would have no right to do any of those things. Nor would she be his lover any longer. If she wanted to claim a few moments of illicit passion with Ash, she would have to resort to slinking about his house, stealing into his chamber at night to avoid his servants, deceiving his family and her friends. It was far preferable to remove herself from temptation.
When she made it to her bedchamber, it was all Maura could do to control her tears. Dashing at her streaming eyes, she retrieved her valise from under the bed, then began searching her drawers and wardrobe for the barest necessities required for the drive home, haphazardly tossing garments into the case.
She had learned long ago that it was useless to long for things she could never have, Maura reprimanded herself. She had to accept that tormenting fact now, even though her heart was breaking.
Two hours later, Ash was in his study, sprawled indecorously on his leather sofa, when Katharine came storming in. “I cannot believe you let Maura go!” she declared.
He pried one eye open to shoot her a baleful glare. “What would you have me do? Lock her in the cellar so she could not escape?”
“Yes! If that was the only way to keep her here.”
“Go away and leave me in peace, Kate,” Ash muttered.
He had already downed the better part of a liberal brandy, and when he raised the glass to his lips again, Kate took notice. “What are you doing, imbibing such potent spirits in the middle of the day? Is it because Maura left you?”
“Your powers of perception are unparalleled.”
Disregarding his testy sarcasm, Kate furrowed her brow. “I don’t understand. I thought things were going swimmingly between the two of you. You vanquished her hateful foe and restored her father’s honor. That should have made Maura welcome your suit.” Her gaze narrowed on Ash. “What did you do to make her flee, Ash?”
“Nothing that I’m aware of.”
“Did you cry off from your engagement?”
“No. Maura was the one to cry off.”
Princess Charming Page 24
