Page 51 of The Earl's Scarred Bride

"No?" Harriet arched an eyebrow. "I don't believe you have a choice in the matter, my lord. You abandoned her. That's grounds enough."

"I didn't abandon her," Cecil protested, though the words sounded hollow even to his own ears. "I just needed time to?—"

"To what? To break her spirit completely? To make her believe she truly is unmarriageable, as our father always claimed?" Harriet's voice trembled with barely contained fury. "She trusted you. She believed in you. And you proved to be just like every other man who's ever looked at her scar and found her wanting."

"That's not—" Cecil ran a hand over his face. "You don't understand."

"Then explain it to me," Harriet challenged. "Explain why you left my sister without so much as a proper goodbye. Explain why you made her fall in love with you only to cast her aside."

The words "fall in love" hit Cecil like a physical blow. He staggered back, bracing himself against his desk. "She...loves me?"

"Of course she does, you fool!" Harriet threw up her hands in exasperation. "How could you not see it? The way she lights up when you enter a room, how she defends you even now to our father, how she—" She cut herself off, shaking her head. "But it doesn't matter anymore. She wants to end this farce of a marriage, and I'm here to make sure you comply."

"I can't," Cecil whispered.

"You can't?" Harriet's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You seemed perfectly capable of walking away from her a week ago. Why is this different?"

Cecil pushed away from his desk, his movements agitated. "Because I love her too!" The words burst from him with unexpected force. "Because every moment I've been away from her has been torture. Because I've spent every night this week staring at the ceiling, wondering if she's sleeping, if she's eating, if she's..." He broke off, running a hand through his already disheveled hair.

"Then why did you leave?" Harriet demanded, though some of the fire had gone out of her voice.

"Because I'm terrified!" The admission echoed in the quiet study. "I watched my father die of a broken heart after discovering my mother's infidelity. I saw what love did to him, how it destroyed him piece by piece. And with Elizabeth..." He swallowed hard. "With Elizabeth, I feel more than I ever thought possible. It terrifies me."

"So you chose to leave?" Harriet's voice was careful, measured, though her disapproval was clear. "Without even attempting to face these fears?"

Cecil flinched. "I thought...I thought if I left now, before I fell any deeper, I could protect both of us."

"How noble of you," Harriet said dryly. "And did it work? Are you protected now, my lord? Because from where I'm standing,you look like a man who's doing an excellent job of destroying himself without any help from my sister."

"Lady Harriet?—"

"My sister has suffered enough," she said quietly, her voice firm but controlled. "I cannot bear to see her hurt again."

She pulled a folded document from her reticule and placed it on his desk with deliberate care. "These are the divorce papers from Elizabeth. Have your solicitor review them and send them to Trowbridge Manor when they're signed.”

Cecil stared at the papers as if they might bite him.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows through the windows of Trowbridge Manor, but Elizabeth barely noticed the fading light. She had spent another day wandering the halls of her childhood home like a ghost, touching the familiar wallpaper and avoiding her father's study. Though Luke Cooper had taken to spending his days away from the estate—a small mercy she hadn't expected—every corner of this house held memories that threatened to suffocate her.

Still, it was better than returning to Stonefield. There, Cecil's presence lingered everywhere: in the library where he'd first kissed her, in the painting room where he'd opened his heart to her, in their bed where she'd foolishly believed they'd found something real. Her chest tightened at the thought of him, as it had every day since he'd walked away.

The sound of raised voices from the entrance hall pulled her from her melancholy. Elizabeth recognized her sister's sharp tone immediately, but the deeper voice that answered made her heart stutter in her chest. Impossible. She hurried towardthe commotion, her skirts rustling as she moved through the corridor.

"You have no right to be here!" Harriet was saying, her small frame blocking the doorway with surprising effectiveness. "After what you did to my sister?—"

"I must speak with her." Cecil's voice was rough, desperate in a way Elizabeth had never heard before. He towered over Harriet, but made no move to force his way past her. "Please."

Elizabeth gripped the doorframe, steadying herself. He looked terrible—magnificent still, curse him, but terrible. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his usually immaculate cravat was slightly askew. She watched as he ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration she knew well.

"Leave now," Harriet demanded, "or I shall call for?—"

"Harriet." Elizabeth's voice was barely more than a whisper, but both of them turned to her immediately. Cecil's eyes found hers, and the intensity of his gaze nearly knocked the breath from her lungs. "Let him in."

"Elizabeth, no!" Harriet protested, moving toward her sister protectively. "He abandoned you without a word. He doesn't deserve?—"

"Please." Elizabeth touched her sister's arm gently. "I need to speak with him."

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