To beg him to be the man she had thought he was.
“Blythe, look at me.”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t believe I will.”
“Look at me.”
Tears pushed at the back of her eyes, and she squeezed them shut. She wanted to be angry, not sad. Anger was easier to face. If she stayed angry with him, she wouldn’t want his comfort.
“Blythe, damn it.” His hand curled around her chin and she jumped, before finally turning her head to look at him.
“Oh, sweetheart.” He reached up to wipe away the tear that fell down her cheek.
“Don’t you do that.” She dropped the flower and arranged her skirts so she could stand up. “I don’t want your affection and your sympathy. You did this to me!”
“I know.”
She hurried past him, intending to leave him right there. Her anger suddenly caught up with the tears, and she whipped around. “You lied to me.”
“Yes.” He stood and watched her warily.
“You deceived me.”
“Yes.”
“You…you thought I was a thief. And a servant!”
A muffled sound emitted from him, and she narrowed her eyes. “Are you laughing?”
His expression was wiped clean, but she thought she saw traces of amusement in his eyes. “Not at all, my love.”
“Don’t call me that,” she snapped.
“But you are. I know I hurt you. I’ll make it up to you, for the rest of our days if it takes that long.” His gaze turned knowing, intimate. “Night and day, I’m yours.”
She felt her jaw drop as she realized he seemed to think he could seduce her out of her hurt and anger. Her heart flipped at the idea, and she didn’t know what appalled her more—that he seemed to think it a given outcome or that her traitorous heart considered it.
“You haven’t even apologized,” she told him, realizing that in all his proclamations and explanations, not once had he even told her he was sorry.
He shrugged a shoulder. “I’ve never been a big believer in the words. They are used too frequently and hold little meaning.”
“Which is why they would mean something coming from you. But I doubt you’ve ever apologized to anyone in your life.”
“If one regrets their actions, the best way to show that is to not do it again.” He frowned at his own words. “Rather, it’s best to…oh, hell. I can’t get into this now.”
“Yes, you shouldn’t be late to accuse Thomas’s other wife of thievery.” A thought pulled from the back of her mind and once it got there, it took hold. “Don’t go, Michael.”
“What?”
“Don’t go to Anne’s.” She suddenly, desperately wanted him to stay. “Stop searching for Thomas’s money. Just let it go and stay here with me.”
“You don’t realize what you’re asking, Blythe.”
“You want to know how to show me you love me. That’s how. Stay here. Choose me. Let me be more important.”
“I have to do this.” His eyes were firm and full of resolve. “We don’t have a chance if I don’t.”
“Why?”
He reached out and grabbed her hands. “I want you to believe that I love you, that you are important to me. I plan to marry you. But you can’t ask me to forsake this.”
“I’m asking,” she whispered. “Please. Stay.” Her stomach clenched, ready to explode from the bundle of nerves inside.
Blythe met his eyes. She needed to be important enough to choose. She desperately wanted to be the one worth any price. As long as he stayed with her, she could try to believe.
“Blythe—” Warring emotions crossed over his face.
She could see how difficult the choice was, and she held her breath. Love me enough.
“Do you believe I love you?”
Blythe raised her eyes to his. “That is the question, isn’t it?”
“I will be back. Tonight. And you’ll understand everything then. Please give me that long. Believe in me that long.” Without waiting for her answer, he swooped down, pulled her up against him and pressed his lips to hers.
She tried—oh, how she tried—not to feel the warmth that exploded inside of her, but she couldn’t fight it.
And before Blythe could tell him to stop, Michael pulled back, turned and strode away.
She wanted to believe Michael loved her. And yet, how could he choose his adventure over her? Unless she really didn’t matter that much, anyway.
An hour later, Blythe stood at her window, watching the pair of horses that had been led out front. They were saddled and packed with the small amount of gear Michael and his friend would need for the day’s journey.
As she looked, Michael strode into the courtyard, Captain Keenan right beside him. They were deep in conversation, and though she imagined he couldn’t see her where she stood, Blythe leaned back so she wasn’t directly in view.
The knot that had been sitting like a stone in the bottom of her stomach flipped over.
Since he’d left her in the garden, Blythe had gone over every single conversation they’d had since he arrived. Every touch. Every kiss. Every smile. Trying to find a hint, any hint that would tell her what was a lie and what was truth.
He’d lied so well she couldn’t tell the difference.
Thomas had done the same. Told her everything she wanted to hear and meant none of it. In the end, she’d meant nothing to him either. In the end, he’d left, too.
The ache in her heart tightened like a fist. Good Lord, it hurt so much.
Blythe couldn’t believe how utterly stupid she felt. She dreaded going downstairs, facing her family, facing Adam and telling him he was right all along to distrust Michael. Having to tell her mother and her sisters there would be no wedding.
Movement below caught her eye, and she watched as Michael put a leg up and over his horse. He sat atop it with a straight back, and suddenly, turned his head upward. She caught her breath. He couldn’t possibly see her. Not with the morning glare on the glass.
But still he sat there.
Her breath caught in her throat. Had he changed his mind? Was he staying after all? Hope burst in her chest like a handful of butterflies.
He turned to say something to the Captain, and she saw him lift his reins. Her emotions sank once again.
Michael kicked his horse into a canter and headed down the dirt road.
He had promised he’d return that night and they would talk. But she already knew there weren’t any words he could offer that would make her feel better.
Words meant little. When someone left after you’d begged them not to, that spoke loud and clear.
A light knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts, and she turned just as the door opened. Her heart contracted as she saw Bethie standing there, looking adorable and happy.
“Blythe, you said we could play dress up with the old trunks in the attic today, remember?” She bound into the room at the quick pace of a seven year old. “Can we go now?”
Blythe glanced back at the window and saw the two riders barely in the distance. When they returned that night, Michael would pack up his daughter and leave.
And Blythe would lose not one, but two people she loved.
If she only had a day, she’d spent it building memories to cherish. She took a deep breath. Bethie was entirely too smart and would see immediately past any façade she put up.
“Blythe?”
She offered a smile to Bethie. “Of course we can. We just have to head up to the attic.”
“Papa never lets me play dress up,” Bethie said. “I tried on all his clothes once and he got really mad at me.”
“I imagine he did.”
“I tried looking for clothes of my mama’s but I didn’t find any. Papa got angry at me then, too.”
“For searching out your mother’s belongings?” They turned a corner and headed down another hallway toward the closed door that led up to the attic.
“For going into the attic alone. H
e said I had no busy-ness being there by myself.” She skipped ahead of Blythe, then turned around. “He got angry at me a lot, but not anymore.”
“Not anymore?”
“Not since he kissed you.”
Blythe almost choked on the laugh that bubbled up. “Bethie, you shouldn’t say things like that.”
“He’s allowed to kiss you, though. Papa told me. He said you’re going to come live with us, and I can call you Mama if you say yes.” Bethie peered up at her. “Can I start now, or do I have to wait until we go home?”
The dizzying pain hit her like a fist in the stomach. How did she answer that? How did she pretend?
“Bethie,” she managed to say. “Why don’t you go to your room and get some ribbons for your hair. I’ll open up the attic and you can meet me up there, all right?”
Bethie nodded, none the wiser to the emotions threatening to bubble over. “I will be right there. Don’t start without me!”
“I won’t,” Blythe assured her.
Blythe lifted a corner of her skirt and ran down the hall, hoping she could outrun the tears. She yanked open the door that led to the attic and clutching her skirts tighter, climbed the steps on the toes of her slippers.
Once she reached the landing, she stopped.
Something was wrong.
She looked around the room, noting the edges of a light coming from somewhere. Shadows danced around the room, flickering in and out and she realized someone had left a candle burning.
Panicked, she scurried toward the flickering. Whoever could have left a candle up here? Heaven forbid the candle should tip and set the entire house aflame.
She skirted around a set of large trunks. Glancing at them as she passed, she frowned. She didn’t remember putting those there. The servants hadn’t yet begun pulling trunks down for packing.
She turned past a high stack of trunks and followed their curve. The candle sat by itself, on the wooden plank floor.
She frowned. This was most peculiar. She took a step toward the candle. Who would ever do—?
“Hullo, love.”
Her breath caught in her throat at the refined gentleman’s voice. She shook her head, certain she’d heard wrong.
She slowly turned around, and there he stood.
“Thomas.”
Chapter Eighteen
“You cannot know how glad I am to see you.” Thomas stood in the shadows and she could just make out his slender outline. “You’re dead.” She couldn’t seem to catch her breath.
“Obviously an exaggeration. I’ve simply been…underground.”
The edges of her vision seemed a little fuzzy and she stumbled back against a stack of crates. “This is not possible. I saw your gravesite.”
He waved a hand haphazardly, dismissing her disbelief. “Easily enough managed.”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
He took a few steps toward her, the shadows dancing upon his features until the edges of his face became clearer.
“That is the oddest thing, my darling. I am in a spot of danger, and I had to pretend to be dead in order to save my life.” His angelic features showed signs of stress. More worn about the edges. Shadows played on the new hollows in his cheeks. “I had to leave you to keep you safe, Blythe.”
She frowned at that. “Keep me safe?”
He took another step closer and came fully into the light. She stared in surprise at his disheveled appearance. The Thomas she’d known had never had a crease out of place. His hair wouldn’t have dared to be anything less than perfect. Now, it lay in unkempt waves about his head. Stubble scuffed his chin, and dark circles dimmed the brightness of his blue eyes. His clothes were that of a common street beggar, tattered and filthy with an old, mud-streaked coat over them.
“What happened to you?” She shook her head in wonder.
“I saw something I shouldn’t have,” he told her matter-of-factly. “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and I saw…” He paused a moment, shoving his hand in his hair. “I saw a murder.”
She pulled back a little. “A murder?”
Michael hadn’t said anything about a murder. Who was she to believe?
“Whose murder?”
Thomas sighed. “I shall fill you in, darling. But first, please, may I just hold you? I have missed you so.”
Before she could say anything, his arms were around her and pulling her in against him. He was thinner than she remembered. While he’d never been muscular, he’d always had a lean, lanky appearance. Now, he simply appeared underweight and gaunt.
She wrinkled her nose as she disengaged herself from him. And he smelled quite ungentlemanly at that.
“You are angry with me. I understand. But you have to give me a chance to explain it all.”
“Go ahead,” she said slowly. How did he imagine explaining his behavior, and a second wife to boot?
“But first, I’d truly like to change into my own clothes. Where are my trunks?” His fists clenched at his sides, belying the cheerfulness of his request.
She frowned. “They are here, in the attic.”
“That’s good, very good,” he murmured. He put his hands on her arms and looked down at her. “My God, you are just as beautiful as I remembered. All this time I’ve wasted.”
Blythe stared at him, seeing the adoration in his face, hearing the charm in his words. Her strength faltered. What if Michael had been the liar all along? If what Thomas said was true…
“Thomas, when you left, you said—”
“Whatever I needed to in order to get out of here quickly. Men were on the grounds, Blythe. If I hadn’t left that very minute, who knows what might have occurred.”
She looked into his blue eyes, seeing love shining back at her. And yet it was false, empty somehow.
It amazed her she’d never seen through it before.
“Oh dearest, I never wanted you to believe I didn’t love you. And it pained me, more than you’ll know, to have to leave on our wedding night.” He stepped close enough to her that she could feel the heat emanating from him. “I so wanted to make love to you that night.”
He trailed a hand up her shoulder. She shivered, prickles of unease making her squirm.
“I want to make that up to you,” he murmured, leaning closer to her.
“Stop.”
“Do not stay angry, darling. I’ll make it up to you.”
“As you’ll make it up to Anne?”
His head snapped back. “What did you say?”
“Anne. Your other wife.”
He reached out and grabbed her by the arms. “What do you know of Anne?”
“I went to Andover. I met her.”
“What?” he growled, shaking her a little. “Did you tell her?”
“That you two weren’t legally married?” She paused, enjoying immensely the alarm in his eyes. “No, I didn’t have the heart to destroy her dreams the way you destroyed mine. She thought I was Michael’s wife.”
Michael’s wife. She couldn’t marry Michael. Not when she was still married to Thomas. The disappointment wrenched her stomach in half.
“Michael?”
“Your cousin, the Duke of Ravensdale. That Michael.”
“What is my cousin doing meddling in this?” Thomas snarled.
Blythe took an involuntary step backward, surprised by the naked rage on Thomas’ face.
“He came to pay his respects.” The lie slipped out before she could wonder why she didn’t tell him the truth. And yet she didn’t rectify that.
“His respects.” Sarcasm bit through his gentleman’s tone, slicing the edges off his charm. “How the bloody hell did he know I’d married?”
“To whom? Me or Anne?”
Thomas started pacing in the small, confined passageway. “He thinks he is so much better than me. If it was not for his stinginess, I would not be in this situation.”
“What situation? Whatever it is, Thomas, we can help you get out of it.”
“We? Are you and my cousin a ‘we’ now?”
They most definitely were a “we.” She could forgive what Michael did before he truly knew her. And Blythe knew Michael never would have proposed if he believed her still married. “He loves me. As a matter of fact, I am going to marry him.”
“How do you propose to do that? Considering I am quite alive and all.” He chuckled. “Finally, I have something he wants.”
She watched him, seeing the glee on his face at the thought of besting Michael. And knew she couldn’t let him have that victory.
“If I’m unable to marry him because of you, I shall simply be his mistress.”
“You’d be his whore?”
“If all I can be is someone to share his bed, I’d rather be there than standing next to you as your wife.”
He growled and before she knew what he intended, his open hand cracked across her face.
She gasped and reached up to touch her burning cheek.
“You can whore for my cousin all you want, but you will not speak to me like that.” He put his hand into the pocket of the filthy coat he wore.
“You will regret that,” she snapped.
She whirled around, intending to get Adam. She knew her limitations. She would need help to toss Thomas out on his unpleasant backside. But just as she took a step, she felt his hand snake around her arm.
“I cannot let you do that.”
“If you think I will stay here with you, you have gone crazy.”
She tried to shake him off and his grip tightened, until she began to feel a tingling sensation in her hand. “Let go of me.”
“I can’t do that, darling. I am sorry for hurting you, I did not mean to. You just made me so angry.”
“Let go of me, Thomas, or I shall scream this house apart.”
He released her arm. “There’s no need to call attention up here. I just need to get what I came for and then I’ll leave.”
“What could you possibly want here?”
He didn’t answer.
She let out a frustrated breath. “Fine. I am going to get Adam.” She turned around, trying to stop the urge to break into a full run to the steps.
Then she heard a click.
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