Page 79 of Intolerable
“Don’t feel guilty.” Her voice, like her insides, was suddenly hollow.
“I will, even if you absolve me. I trusted him.”
So had she. He should have told her about his past. If she’d been aware, would she still have decided to wait for him?
The answer came hard and fast: no.
How could she wait, putting her own life on hold, when he likely expected that his emotions would change? She’d thought his reticence was entirely due to the promise he’d made his father. Was that even true? “Did he tell you why he wouldn’t marry until he turned thirty?”
“Only that he wanted to be certain. Why, is there something more?”
Was there? Or had Ruark fabricated the story about his father? She didn’t think he could have, not the way he shared it with her. But why reveal himself to her about that but not tell her about his past loves?
“What are you thinking?” Lucien asked.
“That I’ve been a fool, and Ruark is a toad.”
“The latter is certainly true, but the former is not. He’s a charming rogue. It isn’t a mystery that you would fall for him.”
“He owes me an explanation. I think I need that.” She drew a breath. “So I can move on.” She had to move on. With Glastonbury or someone else.
Except she didn’t love him or anyone else. And if she’d learned anything this Season, it was that she wanted to marry for love. Or, she reminded herself, the potential for love. That at least existed with Glastonbury. She liked him and thought they could probably be happy.
Probably.
Was that enough? Not for Ruark. But what was going to happen when he turned thirty or at the end of the Season? He’d suddenly know, without question, that he was in love and marrying the right person? How could any of them know that? Constantine had married Sabrina under duress, and they’d gotten very lucky. Fiona had married Overton for love, but who was to say they’d stay that way? Perhaps they’d be like Ruark and fall out of love.
The thought of that sickened her. Not just because she hated to think of that happening to her friend. If Cassandra couldn’t believe in love, why bother marrying for it? Why not accept Glastonbury’s offer, which would please her father and probably ensure a nice, comfortable life?
“Do you want me to take you to his house? Though, it’s not very seemly—calling on a gentleman.”
She exhaled, flattening her hands across her lap, trying to expel some of the tension from her body. “I suppose not. Perhaps I don’t want to speak with him.” She certainly didn’t owe him the opportunity to explain. He’d had ample time to do that.
“I’d be happy to deliver any message you’d care to give him,” Lucien suggested.
Yes, that would do nicely. “You may tell him I’ve decided I can’t wait for him.”
“And if someone else saw you near the stables?”
She tipped her head toward him. “What did the coachman see exactly?”
“He said you looked…intimate.”
Kissing then. Otherwise, he would have seen theminthe stables. She closed her eyes, trying to block out what had been a blissful memory but that was now tainted.
“Please also tell Ruark that he’s a scoundrel, and that I’m sorry I trusted him.”
“Nothing would give me more satisfaction. Except hitting him.”
“Be careful, Lu, he’s a pugilist.” At least now she wouldn’t have to worry about that. He could bloody himself all he liked, and it would be none of her concern. She’d still have to broach the subject with Glastonbury. A small part of her hoped it would prevent their union. Then she could retreat for the rest of the Season and hope next year would be better.
Or forget having a Season altogether. Mayhap she’d journey to a remote castle to be governess to some brooding widower duke’s small children. She’d mend his broken heart, and he’d fall madly in love with her.
“Don’t worry about me, Cass. I can hold my own against Wexford.”
She heard the anger in his voice, his teeth practically grinding, and almost worried for Ruark’s safety. Almost.
A few minutes later, he stopped in front of Gunter’s. “Are you sure you want to meet Miss Lancaster? I could send my tiger in to tell her you’ve returned home.”
