Page 58 of The Lady's Guide to Marrying a Viscount
At the inn, too, he’d felt the same desire to take her into his confidence—to reveal how it had been for him all those years ago, after his mother died.
And how right it had felt to hold her in his arms asthey’d danced. His greatest moments of happiness had been those spent alone with her, and not just in the heat of passion.
The realization of his foolishness came upon him in a great surging rush. He’d wanted to believe he was worthy of the love she professed, but his self-doubt had held him back—that old fear of being betrayed and having his heart torn apart, of being abandoned by the one who should love him best.
It had been easier to hide behind that fear than to face it down, and he’d let her go because of it!
What sort of man was he?
A damn foolish one, to reject a woman like Geneviève Rosseline.
Little wonder she’d kept to her room. He’d been so afraid of having his heart broken, he’d barely considered Geneviève’s feelings.
Was she, at this very moment, shedding tears for him?
How he must have wounded her!
God help him, he’d do all in his power to ensure she never doubted him again; that he would never more cause her anguish.
He must go to her and make everything right, if it was still possible. Heaven help him if he’d destroyed his chance of happiness with her.
He’d understand if she couldn’t forgive the way he’d behaved, but he’d do all in his power to convince her he could be the man she needed him to be.
She deserved so much more.
Without waiting for thecarol to end, Mallon slipped through the throng and skirted behind, toward the staircase. He needed to speak to Geneviève right away.
However, just as he was laying his hand upon the banister, someone touched his arm. Turning, he saw it was Hugo, beaming even more effusively than usual.
“Uncle, I must share my news with you.” Tugging at Mallon’s sleeve, he indicated for them to retreat to the corner.
Mallon glanced up the stairs, impatient to go to Geneviève. He felt a swell of irritation, then quickly reproached himself. His nephew was cheerful by nature, but never had Mallon seen him so elated, nor so insistent to impart a message. Mallon hadn’t forgotten he had news of his own to share with Hugo, relating to Slagsby’s disappearance—though he hoped that could wait until Christmas had passed.
Hugo’s eyes were shining. “I hope it will meet with your approval. I really think it will, but your good opinion matters to me, and I want you to be the first to know, although not quite the first, perhaps, since it was the countess who made me see.” His words were tumbling so fast he was making no sense at all.
“A bit slower, Hugo,” Mallon urged. “Or start again, if you like, but try to be succinct.”
Hugo took a deep breath and resumed. “Aunt Geneviève told me Beatrice was holding a torch for me. I’d not had the least notion, but I jumped in the car and went straight over. I did everything properly—asked her father first, then got down on one knee and presented the ring. She said ‘yes’, and has made me the happiest of men. I don’t think I even knew what truehappiness was until this moment—and it’s all because of Aunt Geneviève!”
Mallon was finding it rather difficult to take in. “And the ring…” He remembered what Geneviève had told him.
“Exactly!” Hugo grinned. “All my aunt’s doing! And not just the ring, either. She’s given me the Rosseline diamonds in their entirety. They were hers to keep, for her lifetime, you know, but she was adamant. Something about turning a new page and having faith in the future.”
Hugo rubbed his chin. “She even mentioned signing over some portion of her income from the vineyards, but I assured her the estate has enough money for me to manage, and she’ll need something to live upon.”
Mallon was dumbstruck. Her generosity stunned him, yet it felt true to the woman he’d grown to love. She was risking her financial independence. If she did as she proposed, what safeguard would there be for her?
Like a lightning bolt, the truth struck him. She’d believed so wholly in his steadfastness that she’d been willing to surrender herself to his protection. Rosseline was part of her past, not her future, and her marriage to the count had been inspired not by love but by gain. In renouncing her wealth, she was demonstrating her faith in a new life with him.
Mallon felt sick with shame. He’d behaved like an ass because of his fear of Geneviève abandoning him. It hadn’t been she who’d let him down. Instead, he’d deserted her.
Hugo was lookingabout the room. “Where is she, Uncle? I really must thank her again for her wise advice, and I know Beatrice wishes to thank her, too.”
Whatever else Hugo said, Mallon never heard, for he was already taking the stairs, not caring whom among their guests thought him rude.
A Staffordshire ceramic sheep, a Donyatt jug filled with dried heather, and a matching pair of china cockerels almost went flying from a sideboard as Mallon raced down the corridor to Geneviève’s room.
He didn’t bother to knock. Breathless, he flung open the door.
