Page 37 of My Hellion, My Heart
“Oh, it’s you.”
“Who did you expect it to be?”
She shook her head and shrugged, not even attempting to put up a mask. “I don’t know. Max, perhaps.”
“Here,” he said, handing her the snifter. Hesitating for the briefest of moments, she took it and sipped. “It’s not as good as mine, but will do the trick,” he told her, watching as some color returned to her cheeks after another sip. “Better?”
“Yes, thank you.” Irina turned toward him, but kept her distance. “Now that we are in private and not on a crowded ballroom floor, may I once again offer my congratulations on your engagement? Your fiancée seems truly lovely.” She eyed him, drawing the snifter to her lips as if considering her words. “She’s obviously much better suited for the role of countess than Lady La Valse or a courtesan from some obscure gaming hell.”
Henry drew a harsh breath, feeling the weight of his words from the waterfall hanging between them. He could never take them back. “Irina, I am not sorry for what I said, but I am sorry for hurting you. You must see that I want only what’s best for you.”
“Stop! You are no longer my warden, and as such you no longer have any right to impose what you think is best for me,” she replied, her bitter tone searing him with unexpected power. “Besides, your idea of what is in my best interests is the very opposite of my own.”
“Does yours include making a fool of yourself with Lord Remi?”
“At least I’m not a coward,” she shot back, her eyes flashing fire as she approached him. “And leave Max out of it.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Irina’s eyes narrowed to slits. “He’s honest about who he is. You hide behind so many walls that no one even knows who you are, least of all yourself.”
“You are calling me a coward,” he said softly, the blow striking deep between his ribs. She’d reached into his chest and stilled his heart with those words.
She walked past him, toward the doors where she paused, her hand resting on the handle. “I am finally seeing you as you are. Perhaps it is time you did, as well. Thank you for the drink, Lord Langlevit.”
He stood unmoving on the balcony as she left. She thought him a coward. It was a word that had floated around his mind for many years but had never, ever, come close to being attached to his name. In the army, cowards ran. They abandoned their men and sought safety for themselves. They broke under the hands of their enemy torturers. Henry was not a coward. He had not run. He had not broken, even when the pain had been blinding, his death all but certain.
“I am not a coward,” he whispered to himself on the balcony.
The doors opened, and a couple drew short when they saw him, standing alone. Henry nodded to them and slipped past, re-entering the ballroom.
Irina was nowhere in sight, but he’d had enough of the evening. He could not stomach another dance or another inane conversation about his marriage plans with anyone. Locating Rose where she stood conversing with the Duke and Duchess of Bradburne and the Earl and Countess of Thorndale, he signaled the butler to retrieve their cloaks and call for their coach while they said their good-byes.
In the carriage, he remained preoccupied until Rose gently touched his shoulder. “Something troubles you?”
Henry pushed a smile to his lips. “I am tired, that is all.”
“It is more than that,” she said. “We’ve known each other forever, Henry, and you could never lie to me. It is about the princess, isn’t it?”
Hellfire.He just wanted the evening to end.
“No.”
Rose squeezed his arm. “Your mouth says no, but your eyes say something else. I saw the two of you dancing. You were staring at each other as if there was no one else in the entire room.”
“I—”
She raised a hand. “No, let me finish. I am not angry, Henry. Far from it.” She smiled, and he knew she was being honest. “It was the same way I used to stare at John when we danced, as if no one else mattered in the world but us.”
“You’re imagining things, Rose,” Henry said, a surge of pain stabbing through him. “You saw two people who can’t even begin to share something as rare as you did with John.” His voice broke. “He deserves to still be here with you.”
“He is,” she said, patting her chest. “In here. In my heart.”
“I should have been the one to die that day, not him. He was a good man.”
“So are you,” Rose said fervently. “And you deserve to be happy. You deserve to have the chance to find someone who loves you, even if, like John, it’s only for a little while.”
Henry dropped his head into the cradle of his hands, his eyes gritty. “She loves a man who no longer exists. A hero on a pedestal. I’m not that man.”
