by Shayla Black
He pushed aside the stab of pain, swallowed, and forced his attention on the sleek new train poised to multiply his fortune.
Brock scanned the crowd and spotted Gavin’s family. Aunt Caroline waved. Brock waved in return, as did Maddie.
Then she turned to Gavin. “What happened to Miss Melbourne and her brother? I would have thought that James would bring his fiancée—”
“Miss Melbourne ended their engagement several days ago, and they are gone.”
As the train sounded its whistle and began turning its wheels, Gavin was spared Maddie’s next words, whatever they were, as well as the speculation on Brock’s face.
Hell, Gavin didn’t know what to feel. Now that Kira was gone, there was nothing except an endless empty ache.
As the train gathered speed, the spectators watched from the platform, cheering as it pulled away from the station. It chugged, its wheels turned, smoke billowing up as the coal burned. The train picked up speed and soon rolled out of sight, eventually to stop at the Curzon Street Station in Birmingham.
The orchestra struck up a rousing tune on the far side of the platform. All around, people smiled. Gavin felt miserable. He’d succeeded at driving Kira Melbourne away—at the cost of his soul.
“Maddie, love, we’re a success!” Brock said to his wife.
Gavin’s redheaded cousin threw her arms about her husband and held him tight. “I never doubted you.”
Brock caressed her cheek with the back of his hand and gazed down at her with utter devotion. She smiled up into his eyes. “I love you.”
With a muttered curse, Gavin turned away. Not a moment later, Brock grabbed his arm, then turned back to his wife. “Will you excuse me, love?”
Maddie nodded. “I’ll go speak with Mrs. Howland.”
“Splendid.” Brock turned to Gavin, the questions in his head dancing in his expression. “Let’s walk, shall we?”
“No.”
Brock shrugged. “As you wish. We’ll stand here in the crowd and I shall ask you why you look so glum.”
“I’m suffering the effects of a late night.”
“Are you?”
Brock stared at him with suspicion. Gavin said nothing.
“I hear Mr. Darius Melbourne is considered all that is heroic after saving young girls from the clutches of the evil Lord Vance. All of Town seems to be abuzz about the cad’s illegal activity.”
Gavin had seen bits of it in the papers. His own name had been mentioned, of course. But Darius had hunted Lord Vance, learned his operation, plotted to bring him to justice.
“I suppose you’re a bit of a hero as well.”
He tried not to laugh at that. “No, I am not.”
“Modest and surly. My, my.” Brock gazed around his shoulder to the platform behind him. “Oh look, there’s Miss Melbourne now.”
Dying for even a glimpse of her, Gavin spun around and scanned the excited crowd, now gathered to watch the newest in railway marvels. He spotted Cordelia lifting her chin in a rebuff to a laughing Lord Darehurst. But he saw no signs of Kira’s graceful form or inky curls peeking from beneath her bonnet. No sign of her at all.
“Perhaps I was mistaken,” drawled Brock. But he wore a knowing smile.
Gavin cursed.
“I think someone is smitten.”
“I am not,” Gavin protested.
“Denial is a common symptom of love.”
“I do not love her.” He gritted his teeth, wishing Brock would shut up. “I simply… cannot keep my hands off her. She’s like a fever I cannot control.”
Brock laughed. “Why do you assume that’s not love?”
Frowning, Gavin glared at his friend. What manner of question was that?
“Do you enjoy her conversation?” Brock asked.
Gavin nodded. A reluctant corner of his mouth turned up. “With Kira, you rarely have to guess what she’s feeling. She is…passionate about everything. I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone quite like her.”
Smiling, Brock went on. “You miss her. Frankly, that fact is all over your face.”
He did miss her—terribly. Every minute yawned like a year. An odd melancholy had sucked away his energy and his ability to sleep.
“I do miss her.”
“Does she make you feel as no one else ever has?” Brock asked.
“Yes, it’s the oddest thing. When she is near, it’s as if the sun is brighter. She makes me feel things I never imagined, things beyond anger, familial affection, and friendship.” He sighed. “It’s a bloody tangle.”
“I see.” Brock nodded. “Do you want her happiness, even if that means making a life without you?”
Gavin frowned, turning Brock’s words over and over in his head. “I do not want her unhappy.”
It was the only reason he’d let her go after she’d refused his proposal. He had no doubt that she would despise life as his duchess, both for the manner in which she would be talked about and for the lascivious paths down which his lust would take him.
“But you want her with you?”
Sighing, Gavin confessed, “I do not understand it, but yes. I wish she were here now. I tried to make her stay. I offered to make her my mistress.”
Brock smiled. “An offer she found less than flattering, no doubt.”
“She slapped me, actually.”
Brock roared with laughter, the deep sounds mixing with the lively music. It made Gavin all the more churlish.
“I fail to see why you find that humorous.”
“You are without a clue, my friend.”
Gavin frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You have all the symptoms of love.”
Did he? “But that does not explain why, each time I’m near her, I seem to lose my common sense, my sense of right and wrong—”
“It explains perfectly. Love does not care if the object of your affections is considered exalted ground or not. Your head cares.” He shrugged. “The two clash.”
Gavin scowled. Was it that simple? Did love explain everything?
“But the way I always want her,” he whispered. “It is unlike anything. It is insanity of the first order.”
“A man in love will do nearly anything to claim his lady. I’ve told you that.”
Yes, Brock had said that on more than one occasion. The question was, did the situation apply here?
Gavin’s every thought was a tangle, a hopeless coil of wants and fears all knotted together. Did he dare believe?
“There you are!” Cordelia called from a few feet away.
She looked rather cozy on the young Mr. Stephenson’s arm, with the engineer’s father standing nearby, beaming. The younger man looked upon Cordelia with awe. And she, who seemed so accustomed to exaltation, smiled coyly at the engineer.
The sight surprised him. Cordelia had never once looked at him in such a manner. He had not thought her capable of coquettish behavior.
A laugh behind them brought Gavin’s gaze around to Darehurst, watching Cordelia with a wide, mocking smile. She shot the earl a glare over her shoulder. The man had been following Cordelia for some time, and Gavin had no notion why.
With a shrug, he turned to her. “My lady.”
“Wasn’t it grand?” she asked. “How fast the train moved. How graceful it was! Your engine is a marvel, Mr. Stephenson.”
Robert smiled with pride. Cordelia met his look before her gaze fluttered to Darehurst. Roses appeared in her cheeks.
Coy and blushing? Unprecedented! Who inspired all this, Stephenson or Lord Darehurst? And shouldn’t he care?
Instead of jealousy, Gavin was thrilled. Ecstatic even. Maybe he should not avoid Cordelia’s company after all. He might not have a happy future ahead of him, but he could ensure Cordelia had a chance at one.
“Are you ready to depart?” he asked.
“Already?” She smiled at her companion, but flashed Darehurst with a lingering glance over her shoulder again.
He smiled. “You and I have a great dea
l to discuss, I think.”
The sparkle left her eyes. “You are right. Excuse me, Mr. Stephenson.”
She removed her hand from his arm. The young engineer kissed her gloved hand with flourish. “Until we meet again.”
“Yes, until then.”
Out of the corner of her eyes, she shot Darehurst an angry glower, then turned her back to him.
With a shrug, Gavin tucked Cordelia’s hand on his elbow and walked away from the station. The music faded away as they climbed in his town coach, watching as, nearby, Aunt Caroline and James made their way to their own vehicle.
His aunt waved. As he had since Kira’s departure, James refused to acknowledge Gavin’s presence.
“Pray tell, why is Mr. Howland out of sorts? Still pining for his former fiancée?”
“No.” He took a deep breath and started the vehicle down the dusty street. Now was as good a time as any to tell her the truth. “I am.”
Cordelia stared at him, taken aback. Stunned was not too strong a word. “I—I… You are pining for Miss Melbourne? I suspected that she had set her cap at you but…”
“Not exactly.” He cleared his throat, grateful the traffic forced his eyes forward. “I feel I should relate a set of circumstances so that you might better consider your future.”
“What are you saying? That—that you do not wish to marry—”
“I merely want you to listen.”
She nodded slowly, still wearing a puzzled frown.
“Miss Melbourne and I were much thrown together over the past few weeks. I have come to regard her highly and care for her a great deal.”
“I see.” She swallowed. “Do you love her?”
That word again. Everyone understood the concept better than he. Gavin sighed, but answered honestly as he drove toward Cordelia’s town house.
“I do not know. I only know I feel an… attachment for her that I have never experienced. And I believe it would be unfair of me to marry you without making that perfectly clear.”
He did not, in fact, want to marry Cordelia at all. But he had offered—sort of—and she had accepted. He must honor that, unless she indicated otherwise.
Cordelia sat back in her seat, stunned. She blinked several times rapidly, as if trying to decipher the information he’d given her.
“Has she gone from your house?”
“Yes.” The town house would never be the same without her.
“And that fact makes you most unhappy, I see.” Cordelia stared at him in puzzlement. “I think perhaps you do love her.”
Gavin shrugged. Perhaps he did. Never having been in love, he could not say. But the idea was beginning to feel oddly, wonderfully possible.
“I did not think you capable of loving anyone. Do you seek to marry her? Is that why you’ve come to me?”
He exhaled, not certain what to say. “I do not think that is likely.”
Cordelia frowned, puzzled. “Because of the scandal?”
“Now that Lord Vance has been proven a villain, do you think it possible the gossip about Kira could eventually die?”
She paused in thought. “After hearing the terrible tales of Lord Vance’s victims, I believe she may find sympathy in a number of quarters.”
Her reply sounded promising. Gavin nodded slowly. “Given that, I might consider outwaiting the wagging tongues, if that were the only impediment.”
“Do you resist marriage because she is Persian?”
“Half Persian,” he corrected.
“Yes, but still Persian to some degree. Is that why you have not considered marriage?”
That question was harder to answer, yet he opposed the idea that prejudice alone would prevent him from following his heart, if in fact he loved her. “When I am with her, I forget her background. She is simply Kira to me.”
Cordelia raised a golden brow. “The ton would find a Persian duchess odd.”
“Perhaps, but I wonder, if they came to know her as well, would they ever simply judge her on her qualities as a woman? If she proved herself of good heart, why should her heritage matter? I do not know. I’m not altogether sure it matters to me anymore.”
Cordelia hesitated. “If all that is true, then why don’t you simply marry her? Does your family disapprove?”
A smile tugged at the corner of Gavin’s mouth. “I can safely say they very much wish I would marry Kira.”
His fiancée hesitated. “I can think of only one reason they would insist you marry her…”
Gavin kept his gaze directed at the traffic ahead, but felt embarrassment flame his face.
“Oh. Well…”
And when Gavin risked a peek at Cordelia, it was clear that she did indeed understand. Comprehension sharpened her blue eyes.
“Please say nothing. The fault is entirely mine. She was innocent in every sense of the word.”
A moment of surprise flitted across Cordelia’s face, then… nothing. As always, she was cool and reserved. Gavin could not tell if she was angry or merely curious.
“You must marry her,” Cordelia said.
“I… believe she would refuse me.” Again.
“After your compromised her? On what grounds? Your position is in every way superior. You are a young man of wealth and good breeding. You are in no way displeasing to the eye and you do not have the temperament of an ogre.”
Gavin took his eyes from the traffic for a moment to regard her. “Those are the reasons you agreed to marry me?”
“Indeed. That and our friendship.”
“Would you not like more out of marriage, if you could find it?”
“You mean love?” She shrugged. “I found nothing of the sort with Lord Litchfield. He was five years my father’s senior and much preferred the company of his smelly hunting dogs. But we were comfortable, and how many brides ask for more? Do not take this as an insult, but I considered marriage with you would be somewhat similar, minus the dogs, of course.”
“You do not love me?” He held his breath.
She bit her lip. Never had he seen Cordelia look uncertain for a moment. Then again, never had they spoken so candidly.
“You are a dear, dear friend, but… No.”
Gavin smiled for the first time in days. “You wanted to be a duchess.”
She had the good grace to look contrite. “The concept was appealing.”
“Was?”
“You and I do not suit, Gavin. That awful kiss after our interview the other day proved that, don’t you think?”
“I was that bad?”
“How should I know? You did not participate. It was like kissing a wall.”
He smiled and rubbed his chin. Yes, he probably had been like kissing a wall, all because he thought only of Kira. Maybe he was in love…
Gavin steered the vehicle to a stop before her town house. The coachman hurried to help her down.
But before she alighted, she turned to him with a smile. “Perhaps you can persuade Miss Melbourne that you love her.”
Yes, but should he try? Gavin shrugged.
“It is your choice, of course, but I will not hold you at my side when you could find joy rather than contentment.”
With that, Cordelia turned to exit the vehicle.
“Wait!”
She peered back over her shoulder, and Gavin took her silk-clad hand and dropped a kiss on it. “I appreciate your friendship.”
“You will always have it,” she vowed, then left.
Chapter Twenty
Kira spent the next four dreary days inside her father’s town house. She hated London, but the bad weather prevented comfortable travel. Each time she asked to leave, Darius pointed out that, after so much rain, the roads would be a muddy mess.
Besides, where would she go? Everyone in Suffolk thought her a whore. If she returned unwed, they would only taunt her more. And she was tired of the insults.
Blast it all! What should she do now? In falling for Gavin, she had lost her heart to the wrong man. But she did not regret
giving up James. They would not have been happy. She did, however, regret that her wayward heart had crushed her hopes for the one thing she’d most wanted since girlhood—a place to belong, a setting where people forgot she was different and simply accepted her. Now she had nowhere to go.
Sighing, Kira stood at the window, watching the splatter of fat raindrops fall to the thirsty garden below the drawing room window. Would she ever be happy? Ever find love with a man who could love her in return. Ever find somewhere she could be herself and be accepted, Persian mother and all? Even if she did, Kira doubted she would ever again give her heart to anyone the way she had given it to Gavin. She also feared there was nowhere in England she could travel without her reputation preceding her.
Splendid, she was destined to be a broken-hearted spinster, reviled as both light skirt and infidel, for the rest of her days. Why couldn’t people see beyond Lord Vance’s lies and a circumstance of her birth that she could not change? Why could they not simply come to know the real her? She was not all that different.
She shook her head to rid herself of such impotent frustration.
Yesterday, she and Darius had received word that their erstwhile father would be home soon. Kira wondered what he would say if Darius told him of her illicit amor with Gavin. He would be disappointed, certainly.
But that was nothing compared to the pain of her broken heart and shattered future. The arrival of her monthly flow this morning should have put her at ease. It had…somewhat. But it also represented the death of her last possible tie to Gavin.
Their liaison, however brief, was over. Yet she knew it would mark her forever.
Moments later, Darius entered, carrying a stack of cards and mail. He took one look at her face, set them on the library table by the door, and rushed to her side.
“Kira, do not be sad. You cannot continue with this gloom. I know he hurt you—”
She didn’t have to ask who he was. “I was naïve. I let him.”
Her brother frowned, clearly not comprehending.
“I wanted so badly to believe in his goodness and his caring. I cast caution aside. Truly, I have no one to blame but myself.”
