Willoughby 01 - Something About Her

by Jeannie Ruesch

  She took a fortifying gulp of air and nodded, though she felt anything but ready.

  Adam murmured their names to the butler, and the butler’s voice sounded above the crowd. “The Earl of Merewood and Lady DeBruin.”

  The unfamiliar name sent nervous flutters through Blythe’s stomach. How could she pretend an entire past that didn’t exist? When they had come up with the plan, it seemed feasible. If her past was boring enough, no one would question it.

  Adam led her into the room. She tried to ignore the curious gazes sent their direction.

  “You’re leaving bruises on my arm,’ Adam said lightly as he reached up to settle his hand over hers and squeezed it.

  “Sorry.” She scanned the faces of those nearby and took in a deep breath when she did not see Michael. Perhaps if she looked at the floor all evening, she could get through it. “Do you see Mama?”

  Adam turned to the right, and as her hand was still nestled in the crook of his arm, she turned with him. “I believe she is over—” He stopped.

  Blythe looked up and her heart sank.

  Michael headed toward them, his fiancé tucked at his side, but his blue eyes focused on her.

  With every step he took closer, she stared back, fighting the urge to close her eyes and pray for strength. He’s just another stranger.

  Just another stranger.

  Perhaps if she repeated the thought enough times, she might believe it.

  He nodded slightly as he passed, his body inches from hers, close enough she could simply sidestep once and brush against him. But she only nodded a little in return. It was the polite thing to do for people who did not know each other. Yet it felt so very wrong.

  All in all, it took less than five seconds and from the lack of interest around them, the exchange hadn’t affected anyone but her.

  Adam squeezed her hand again. “Mama is right there.” He pointed in the opposite direction and steered her that way.

  But Blythe could not resist a peek. She turned her head slightly, and once again met blue eyes. Michael met her gaze, having also turned back.

  And Blythe realized she couldn’t pretend.

  ****

  “Who is that woman?” Abigail looked at him with a small gleam of irritation.

  Michael forced himself to look down at her. “What woman?”

  Her lips thinned. “That blonde woman we just passed. It seemed as if you knew each other.”

  He shook his head. “Not at all.” He urged her forward, toward the refreshments. He sighed with relief at the sight of Abigail’s friend. “Ah, Lady Lancaster, might you keep Abigail company for a spell?”

  The young woman, recently married, smiled. “Of course.”

  Michael left them before another word could be spoken. He pushed down the urge to inspect his arm where Abigail’s hand had remained all evening, certain he’d find claw marks. She was sweet enough, but she hadn’t moved even a foot away from him the entire evening. He had dangerous visions of what their marriage would be like, in her constant presence. Somehow, he thought he’d be spending an extraordinary amount of time at his clubs. At Parliament. Hell, he’d take up botany and visit the gardens in London just to have some space.

  “You look as if you could use this.”

  Michael found a drink thrust into his hand and looked up at Keenan. He lifted the glass to sniff. “What is this?”

  “It’s—”Keenan trailed off as Michael took a long draught. “I see it doesn’t matter.”

  “Not particularly.”

  Keenan raised an eyebrow. “Women troubles?”

  Michael averted his gaze until it settled on Blythe. She stood close to her brother, and Michael wanted nothing more than to sweep her in his arms for a dance. For the evening.

  Forever.

  He narrowed his eyes. But perhaps a dance would suffice.

  He squared his shoulders and took a step in her direction. Keenan’s hand landed firmly on his arm and stopped him.

  “What in God’s name are you doing?” Keenan’s tone was casual, but his eyes were sharp and full of warning.

  “I just want to let her know the truth.” He clenched his hands. “This is blasted rubbish, Will.”

  “I agree.” Keenan removed his hand. “But it is the course set. You agreed to it. You cannot change it now. You chance ruining her.”

  Movement from Blythe and Adam caught his eye and garnered his full attention. Adam had a hand on her back, steering her purposefully toward the door that led to the garden. Blythe looked back at him, said a few words and he shook his head.

  “She is upset about something,” Michael murmured.

  “Perhaps seeing you with Abigail might warrant a feeling or two,” Keenan replied.

  “Walk with me.” Michael headed toward the same door.

  Keenan held his arm again. “This is a very bad idea.”

  Michael shook off the hand and continued on. Keenan sighed and followed closely on his heels. Once Michael got to the door, he turned out onto the terrace as the cool night air surrounded him.

  Voices rose from the opposite side, and he veered toward them.

  “I cannot do it! I am not going to pretend none of it happened. I can’t.” It was Blythe.

  “You’ve already been introduced as Lady DeBruin. It would cause a bigger issue to try and rescind that now,” her brother replied.

  Michael moved around the corner until they were in his sight.

  “We can say the butler got the names wrong. I will not-” Blythe stopped as he moved into the light. “Oh.”

  Adam whipped around, his expression hostile. “This is a private conversation.”

  Blythe put out a hand. “No, he needs to know.” She turned to Michael. “If anyone asks, I am going to tell them I was married to Thomas.”

  He moved closer. “And the rest?”

  Uncertainty crossed over her face. “They only need to know that we were married and he died. If they ask questions, I simply won’t answer.”

  “And me?”

  Confusion clouded her eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “Will you admit to knowing me?” Suddenly, a life without her in it at all, even on a friendly distant basis, seemed a life he could not accept.

  “I-” Blythe paused and glanced at her brother. With a sigh, she looked back at him. “Yes. It would cause a stir not to know my husband’s cousin. We can be…acquainted.”

  “Blythe, this is a very bad idea,” Adam argued.

  Keenan stepped up next to him. “I must offer agreement here.”

  Michael looked at them both. “We need a moment.”

  Adam shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

  “It was not a request.”

  “I will not tolerate—”

  Blythe put out a hand to stop Merewood. “Adam, please. Give us a minute. You may stand right over there, well within eyesight.”

  “Step lightly, Duke.” With the warning, Adam took a few steps away and leaned back against the railing.

  Michael looked at Keenan, who shrugged and moved to stand next to the earl.

  Michael focused on Blythe. “Are you certain about this?”

  “Being truthful? Yes. It is not in my nature to lie.” She frowned. “Or, it wasn’t.”

  Michael winced. “Unlike mine.”

  “I did not mean it to sound that way.” She looked down. “You had your reasons for your actions. I understand that now, more than you know.” She moved her gaze to his. “And now…”

  Her eyes questioned and he knew she wanted answers. “You need to know what happened when I returned to London.”

  “I believe I came to the right conclusions on my own.” She offered him a sad glance. “Or with a little help, in fact.”

  “Blythe, it isn’t what it appears.” He glanced over at Keenan and Adam, both of whom watched avidly. “I did not lie to you about Abigail.”

  “Michael, really, this is not necessary. It’s over.” Hurt flashed across her face.

 
; “Damnit, listen to me!” He took a deep breath to push back the urgency he felt, especially when he saw Adam take a step toward them. He looked back at Blythe. “Either way I tell you this, it will cause you pain. But I will not have you believe I do not love you.”

  She stepped back in surprise. “It does not matter now.”

  “It matters to me.” He took her by the shoulders.

  “That is enough, Duke.” Adam moved to stand next to them. “Let go of her.”

  Michael released his grasp but continued to look at her. “When I returned to London, Abigail and her father came to see me. She told me the truth of the matter. She is pregnant.”

  Tears filled Blythe’s eyes.

  “But not with my child, Blythe. The baby is not mine.” He took a deep breath. “The baby is Thomas’s.”

  She sucked in air. “What?”

  Adam shoved at him and put an arm around Blythe. “We’ve heard enough of your lies.”

  She shrugged out of his grip, her gaze never leaving Michael’s face. “What do you mean, the baby is Thomas’s?”

  “The details are not important. Thomas is the father. I could not let another woman be ruined by my cousin’s actions. And if the truth had come out about the child, it wouldn’t be long before everything else became fodder for the gossips as well. I had to protect my family. I had to protect you.”

  “Blythe, let me take you inside,” Adam urged.

  She shook her head, as if she couldn’t process everything. “But you are betrothed.”

  “Yes, I offered marriage. I had to stop the scandal.” He took a step toward her. “And I thought I had lost you.”

  “I don’t understand any of this.” She looked at Michael, then Adam and back again.

  “I know you don’t. If I had any notion that you would have come to London, that you…” He paused. He couldn’t assume she still loved him, no matter what the Earl had said. “If I had known you would be arriving, I would have warned you.”

  “Does society know the child is Thomas’?” she asked.

  “No. They believe it to be mine. I could not see a way around it, without the truth coming out.”

  Resignation and sadness filled her expression. “Oh, Michael.” She looked over at her brother.

  Adam shook his head. “I am not leaving you alone.”

  “Yes, you are. I need to…say my goodbyes privately.”

  Her words lashed across Michael’s heart with a stinging pain. Goodbye.

  Adam leaned in toward her and whispered something in her ear, then walked away without a glance at Michael.

  She smiled tentatively. “He is protective.”

  “Admirable.” Even if it was annoying at the same time to be on the receiving end of that.

  They stood there in silence, Michael watching her and Blythe looking everywhere but at him. Finally, he couldn’t stand the awkward quietness any longer. He reached out and gently touched her cheek.

  She looked up and met his gaze, her eyes still watery.

  “Does it have to be goodbye?” he asked.

  “What other choice do we have?” A tear slipped down her cheek.

  “Sweetheart, do not cry.”

  His words seemed to break the dam that held her tears back for they fell in earnest now.

  Michael reached out and pulled her into his arms. But his own heart seemed just as broken.

  ****

  Blythe wiped at the wetness on her cheeks. She didn’t want to let go of Michael, to lose the warmth of him surrounding her, even as she knew how dangerous a game they played right now. Even though Adam and Captain Keenan played Look Out, anyone could find them.

  And yet still she clung to him, her arms wrapped about his trim waist. She laid her head back against his chest. They were such a perfect fit.

  And if she had to say goodbye, she wanted one last moment with him, where everything seemed good and happy. One moment in which she could love him with all her heart.

  “Why did you come to London?”

  She sighed and pulled herself away. “There is no point in that now.”

  “I need to know.”

  “I came to London to tell you I forgave you.”

  He closed his eyes, his expression pained.

  “I never should have let you leave.” Regret filled her very being.

  He shook his head. “You had every right to tell me to leave. I understood. I just…I am sorry for all of it, Blythe.” He looked into her eyes. “You are the only woman I have ever loved and it will be my everlasting regret that I ruined our future.” He turned away with a growl and slammed his fist down on the railing. “I wish there was a way.”

  “But there is not. You and I both know that.” She offered him a half hearted smile. “I understand why you are doing this. And I—-”she paused, uncertain if saying the words out loud would make it easier or harder to walk away. And yet, she knew she couldn’t let him leave without knowing. “I love you. Always.”

  He met her gaze. “I hate this.”

  “M-Michael?”

  Blythe turned around to see the very beautiful, very uncertain Abigail Darlington standing between Adam and Captain Keenan. Her stricken gaze bounced from her to Michael and finally settled on Michael again.

  “Abigail.” He took a step toward her.

  “I came looking for you.” She glanced at Blythe, hurt clear in her face. “I thought you said you did not know her.”

  Blythe took a step backward. “I should go.”

  Michael held a hand out. “No, Blythe. Wait.”

  Adam strode to Blythe’s side. “Are you ready?”

  “Blythe, wait a moment. Please,” Michael implored. He hesitated a moment and then took a step to stand next to Abigail. “Introductions should be made. It is better to do this now.” He looked down at Abigail. “Abigail, may I please introduce Lady Blythe Ashton.”

  Abigail frowned. “Ashton?”

  Michael took a deep breath. “She was married to Thomas.”

  She gasped. “What?” She snapped her gaze to Blythe. “Thomas was married?”

  “I married him over a year ago.” Amongst every other emotion crowding her heart, Blythe felt sad for this young woman, who had also been used by Thomas. Used and abandoned. “It was something of a secret.”

  “And we’d like it to stay that way,” Adam interjected.

  Blythe shook her head. “No, we would not.” Heaviness weighed in her chest. “I was married and Thomas died. Nothing more needs to be said.”

  Abigail’s hand came to rest on her stomach. “I—I did not know he was married.”

  “Apparently neither did Thomas,” Blythe replied with a humor she didn’t feel.

  What exactly did one say to the woman pregnant by her deceased husband and engaged to her betrothed because of it? She doubted there was a section in any book of manners to cover this.

  So the quickest and easiest choice was simply to make a fast exit. She placed a hand on Adam’s arm. “Shall we get back to the party?”

  He nodded, seeming relieved.

  Blythe turned to look at Michael and prayed the hopeless amount of love she felt was not written on her face. “I will not betray your secrets.”

  His eyes were solemn. “Neither will I.”

  “Then I…Goodbye, Michael.”

  She grasped Adam’s arm tightly, using his strength to help her walk away. Somehow, knowledge of the entire situation—of his feelings—did not make it any easier to walk away.

  It made it so much harder.

  ****

  “Thomas was married.” Abigail’s face had turned white as she watched Blythe enter the house.

  Michael nodded. “Yes, he was. I was trying to spare you. I didn’t think you needed—”

  “That bastard! That filthy rotten, churlish, milk-livered knave!” She turned away from him and stalked toward the railing, where a tall candelabrum stood, candles snuffed. She reached out and shoved it over with a cry of outrage.

  “Abigail
!” Michael reached out and yanked her back. Still-warm wax splattered everywhere as the metal candelabrum landed on the ground with a loud crash and the candles went flying in all directions. “What are you doing?”

  She struggled in his arms. “Let me go!”

  He tightened his grip around her waist to keep her from pulling away. “Settle down, Abigail.”

  “He lied to me.” She twisted around to free herself. “He used me. That whoreson!”

  “Abigail, stop!”

  She instantly stilled in his embrace.

  A moment passed and then she turned in toward him and burst into tears. He patted her back awkwardly. “This can’t be good for the baby.”

  “Damn the—that man,” she managed between sobs. “Oh please forgive my outburst, Duke. I cannot imagine what has overcome me.”

  He looked over her head at Keenan, who stood with his mouth slightly ajar. Michael knew how he felt. The idea that the sweet, demure Abigail Darlington had such rage in her—-much less such a vocabulary—-shocked him.

  She pulled herself from his arms and stepped back, looking downward as if afraid to meet his gaze. “Please forgive me.”

  “There is nothing to forgive,” he assured her, though the shock of it all still weighed on him. He’d heard once that pregnant women were prone to sudden outbursts of emotion. God help him, he hoped never to witness another one in his life.

  “I must go…I need to pull myself together.” She grabbed a corner of her skirt and fled toward the doors leading into the house.

  Michael bent down and pulled up the candelabrum to set it back in place. He looked down at the pools of wax already congealing on the ground and the random bits of candle here and there.

  Keenan walked over with a candle in his hand and stuck it on one of the ends of the candelabrum. “That was…rather shocking, as a matter of fact. Who knew the little woman had such a mouth?”

  A burst of pain flashed in Michael’s temple and settled into a pulsing ache. “Bloody hell.”

  “Now that was appropriate usage of swear words. Bloody. Hell. It makes the point without causing one to lose one’s gentlemanly nature.”

  “Shut it, Keenan.”

  “Again, said with a gentlemanly flair—”

  Michael aimed a glare at him, and Keenan shrugged. “Just noting the difference in levels of vulgarity here. Such outbursts are not always appreciated in one’s intended.”