Page 84 of The Duke of Daring (The Untouchables)
Cold realization knifed through her. Therehadbeen something off with his proposal. “No. Please don’t.”
He looked momentarily perplexed. “All right. Tomorrow, then?”
As much as she appreciated what he was trying to do, she couldn’t continue with the ruse. Not when she knew he was haunted. He didn’t want a family, not after losing one. And given how averse she’d been to a potential husband who was no better than her father—not that Andrew was necessarily that man—she understood. “No. You don’t really want to marry me. You did it because of that threat. Don’t deny it, because I know it’s true.”
The muscles along his jaw tightened. “I thought it would solve a great many things, including our mutual attraction. I meant it when I said I didn’t like thinking of you alone.”
Sadness engulfed her, and for the first time, she fully comprehended what that meant. Now that she’d had a glimpse of what it might have been like to share her life with someone she loved, alone seemed a far worse fate than it had before. Still, she had to let him go.
“Yet, alone is a state that’s perfect for you, isn’t it? You’ve made that more than clear. I do appreciate you trying to protect me.” She allowed a small smile as the last of her hope slipped into the past. “I’m glad you’re going to help Charles. It will be good for you. Maybe you can start to heal.”
His forehead pleated as his brows slashed over his eyes. He looked as though he might speak, but in the end, he said nothing.
“Good-bye, Andrew.”
She turned and left him in the park, along with the greatest happiness she’d ever known.
Andrew watched her go, unable to find the words to ask her to stay. He ought to feel relieved that he didn’t need to marry her. Instead, he felt numb.
Numb was good, wasn’t it? It was certainly better than the agony of loss.
He strode across the park, ignoring the paths so that he could avoid talking to people, and made his way to his town house. He’d deal with Charles first. Then he’d think about Lucy. Maybe. A part of him didn’t want to. The part of him that said it was better to go on without her. Alone. As he’d planned.
His gait slowed as he approached his house. Was he really alone? He’d worked so hard to keep people from getting too close, to keep relationships simple and easy. In school, he hadn’t attached to any particular group of friends, and he’d tried to do the same in adulthood. He even went so far as to hire a new valet periodically. How, then, had he ended up with a group of friends and with Lucy?
Because maybe it was time. Maybe he’d suffered with the guilt and the fear long enough.
Probably. But his attacks had only grown worse recently, which would lead him to believe the opposite. He needed to evict all these people from his life.
Andrew’s butler, Roland, opened the door. “My lord. Mr. Charles is in the drawing room.”
Andrew nodded as he stalked to the stairs and walked up to the first floor. Charles stood in front of the window, staring down at the street. He turned as Andrew came into the room.
“You look terrible,” Andrew said as he went to the sideboard and poured two glasses of whiskey. He went to Charles and handed him one.
Charles glanced down at Andrew’s glass. “Not gin?”
Andrew shrugged. “I felt like something different.” He wanted to embrace change and starting with his choice of liquor seemed a step in the right direction. He’d grown too comfortable with people, allowing them too close, and he blamed the recent severity and frequency of his attacks on his complacency.
Charles threw back the entire pour. “Thank you. I really am sorry about Miss Parnell.” He looked pained. Haunted, even.
Andrew sipped the whiskey. It was fine, but he missed his gin. “How did you get yourself into this predicament?”
“You know me.” He gave a half smile. “I can’t seem to say no to a wager.”
“Was this at a hell?”
He nodded. “I was in deep one night, and a fellow offered to spot me. Somehow it grew to five thousand.” He looked toward the windows, his cheeks turning red.
Andrew resisted the urge to throttle him. How many times had he tried to steer Charles down the right path? “Your father has no idea, I take it.”
“No, and I can’t ask him. He’ll cut me off entirely. Then he’ll marry me off to some chit in a backward hamlet so far from London that I’ll perish of boredom.”
“Wouldn’t that be better than actually dying, which I believe is a risk given what you said at the park and given what you dared to do? Tome.” Andrew didn’t bother masking his scorn. “Your purported friend.”
Charles winced. “I was desperate. You’ve been nothing but kind and supportive—a true friend.”
“So if you don’t pay this money, one of Gin Jimmy’s ruffians will kill you.”
