Page 108 of The Devil in Her Bed
His gaze returned to her, lingering on the smudges of soot at her bodice and hem. For the first time in forevershe felt self-conscious, wishing she didn’t look so windswept, soiled, and dowdy when he appeared so fine.
Was he angry to find her there? Or had he come after her? Dammit, why didn’t hesaysomething? Do something. Kiss her. Throttle her. Murder her, she didn’t care at this point.
He just stood there, his hands fisted at his sides, and let his cruel silence unravel what little composure she had.
Apropos of nothing, she blurted. “It’s yours. Mont Claire. Legally, I mean. You’re the heir to the title and holdings and fortune and I want you to have it. I’m—I’m going away, maybe for good. But before I do, I want you to understand something about this place… about me.”
She took off her riding hat so she could see him better, or perhaps to be respectful, as one did at church. “Pippa… she died the moment you were shot… No. No, that’s not entirely true, and I’ve promised to tell only the truth from here on out.” She began to pace a little a few steps this way and two steps back.
“Theonlything about Pippa that survived that day was her love for you. I became Francesca not only becauseyouloved her but because I loved her, too. I’ve lived longer as Francesca than I ever did as Pippa, and after a great deal of consideration, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m not sorry—that is—I’m sorry you were hurt,” she hurried to amend. “But I’m not sorry for what I did. It was my responsibility to my friend. And I know… that both of us loved you. Francesca and… and I.” She tugged at the cuffs of her sleeves. “And, well… I love you still, and it doesn’t matter tome if you know that because my love feels like it might be maintained not only by my heart, but also by hers. Her memory.”
She pressed a few fingers to her brow, below which her nose was beginning to burn with the threat of tears. God, his very presence laid her bare, raw, stripped her of everything, even her pride. “What I’m trying to say is we loved you, and each other. If there’s nothing else, there’s that. I never lied about that—”
Suddenly he was in front of her, his gentle finger pressed against her lips to silence her.
“I did,” he said simply, his voice hoarse and raw, as if he rarely had reason to use it anymore. “I lied.”
“What?” she asked from behind the pressure of his finger.
He removed it, his hand falling back to his side. “I always thought my love was a precarious thing meant for a fragile girl. That being a hero meant saving the damsel and proving my worth to her. I thought… love was honesty and purity and all the things you and I never had. I believed that trust, once broken, could never be regained and then… I remembered something.”
Francesca waited. Hesitated. Wondering if he was being cruel, or just saying goodbye.
Wondering if she had a reason to hope.
He looked down the green expanse of the estate as though he was looking toward the past. “The day I arrived here at Mont Claire, you and Francesca were having tea in the garden. I remembered her face, so perfect and clean. She looked at me with… disgust. Not compassion, not kindness, not even pity. She saw a filthy, soiled, freezing beggar and recoiled from him.”
“Well, she was young and well brought up,” she rushed to defend. “She changed her mind about you, obviously.”
He seemed to lose a battle with himself, lifting his hand to touch her mouth again, this time with his thumb. It caressed the sensitive outline of her lower lip as his features finally melted into something she couldn’t define; it was so beautiful. It went beyond tenderness, to an aching, longing adoration that threatened to turn her into a puddle.
“Youran to me, your hem already dingy from where you’d been chasing frogs earlier. You took me by the hand and pulled me inside. Fed me your tea, and then dragged me to the kitchens, where you commanded your parents to feed me and take me in. You bullied a footman into giving me his son’s trousers and then you bullied me into bed.”
She’d rather forgotten that. Not the first sight of him, but everything after.
His other hand joined the first, cupping her face as if it were a delicate thing. A treasure.
“When I look back now, you’re all I can remember,” he said. “That girl in the fireplace, clinging to me. She ran by my side. She took a bullet in the leg, meant for me. She always tried to save me, even if it was just from the dark. She set aside an extra peppermint from her father’s pockets, or an extra hour of work by laboring at my side, knowing I despised the fountain. That the water made me miserable.
“She spent her entire life trying to avenge my memory, and theirs.” He gestured to the ruins aroundthem. “And… when I thought I’d found my damsel again, she tried to save me from her loss a second time.”
Her breath hitched as her heart began beating once again.
“I never stopped to consider how much a secret like that must have weighed year after year. How oppressive and frightening it would be.”
The weight of it pressed on her now, pressed her throat shut against any reply.
His eyes, full of his heart, glimmered down at her. “Thatis love… I know that now.”
Did he? Was it possible that he finally saw, that he understood the depth of her devotion? She curled her fingers around his wrists, keeping them there. Wanting to reply but not being able to. Not yet.
He seemed to understand. “It took me too long to do this, I know. I… I was humiliated by my father and he used you to do it. I couldn’t come to terms with that until he died, and then after… I couldn’t imagine that you’d want to give me another chance. I’ve been setting my house in order, and finishing what we started. And the entire time, I wanted you there with me. I realized you were right, that you have been by my side from the very beginning, and when it was my turn, I failed you.”
She shook her head, wanting to say that she wasn’t angry. That she was so happy he’d come to this conclusion, but it had taken so long. Almost too long. He’d almost missed her.
“And then Ramsay told me you were leaving…”
She nodded. How did she tell him? How did she say that she couldn’t abide in the same city, the same country with him and not be at his side?
