The Scoundrel and the Debutante (The Cabot Sisters #3)

“No. I’ve told you everything. I realize how practical Stanhope’s offer—”

“Damn you,” Roan said brusquely before she could try and convince him she should accept the offer. His collapse transformed into fury, swelling up in him. He suddenly grabbed her arm and yanked her into him, catching her by the nape of her neck. “How can you do this, Pru?”

“I don’t want to do it,” she said tearfully. “You have to believe me, Roan. It’s not what I want to do. It’s what I have to do.”

His feelings darkened and he let her go. “I don’t deserve this.”

“I know,” she said, and a single tear began to slide from the corner of her eye.

“You’re careless. You’re selfish. You have taken something from me that I will never have back. And worse, you’ve made me an accomplice in taking something from you that you will never have back. Does your Stanhope know that?”

She bit her lip and glanced down.

“You’ve put us both at great risk and now you will toss it away as if it meant nothing. I didn’t come here looking for anything but my sister, but you put yourself on that coach. I fell in love with you, Prudence. I asked you to marry me and damn you, you gave me every reason to hope!”

She caught a sob in her throat. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “From the bottom of my heart.”

He set her back, away from him. “I should have known. I was caught up in the moment, I was captivated. But I should have known you would never leave here.”

“That’s not true—”

“Good night,” Roan said, and opened the door.

“Roan—”

“Good night,” he said again.

He didn’t actually see her go out. His fury and his disappointment turned into a sharp pain that stabbed at him. He was the biggest goddamn fool in the world.

*

WHEN MORNING CAME, Roan methodically went through his toilette, then gathered his things. He and Aurora would be leaving today, taking rooms in a hotel until tomorrow, when he could arrange passage to Liverpool. He went downstairs and found Mrs. Easton, Mercy and Aurora still at breakfast. He did not look for and he did not see Prudence.

Roan greeted them as politely as he could and declined Finnegan’s offer of a plate; he had no appetite. Aurora, however, had a hearty one. It never ceased to amaze him that she could bounce back so quickly and completely from her follies. How he yearned for that ability today. He stood anxiously, wanting to get on with things.

A footman stepped into the room and bowed. “The carriage has been brought round, Miss Matheson.”

“Thank you!” Aurora said cheerfully, ignoring Roan’s look of shock. She said to him, “I should like to say goodbye to my friends. Mrs. Easton very kindly made the carriage available.”

“What? No,” Roan said sternly. “We are moving to a hotel this afternoon and leaving for Liverpool tomorrow. You will not be traipsing alone around London.”

“Tomorrow!” Mrs. Easton said.

“I won’t be traipsing at all,” Aurora said. “Mercy is coming with me.”

“Please don’t deny me the opportunity to gad about, Mr. Matheson,” Mercy said. “I’ll be entering the Lisson Grove School of Art soon, and I won’t have the luxury of time to call on friends.” She stood up and gathered her gloves. “Good day, Honor! Good day, Mr. Matheson!”

Aurora stood up and kissed Roan lightly on the cheek. “I’ll be back by two, I promise.” She and Mercy flitted out of the room like a pair of kittens.

The room was silent when they’d gone; Roan looked at Mrs. Easton.

She was watching him closely. “Tomorrow?” she repeated.

“Yes.”

“Prudence didn’t tell me,” she said carefully.

“She doesn’t know. She won’t be accompanying me, Mrs. Easton, so you may rest easy. If you will excuse me, I have quite a lot to do before we take our leave on the morrow.” He bowed his head and went out before she could question him.

Roan didn’t know how to leave England, quite honestly. How did one quit something like this? He felt completely vacant inside, as if he was leaving something large and important and vital behind and carrying a shell back to America. It annoyed him—Roan had never thought himself this man. He’d thought himself above common emotions and wants. Not that he hadn’t wondered what it would be like to truly love a woman, but now he knew, and he didn’t care for it. To love a woman was to become a mere ghost of a man.

He walked out of the dining room, eager to leave the house on Audley Street. As he walked to the foyer, however, he saw Prudence standing in the door of Easton’s study. She had changed her gown, but she looked even worse than she had last night. He paused, looking at her, willing her to say something, to take it all back.

“Please don’t hate me,” she said. “I never meant to hurt you.”

God, she sounded like Aurora now. “I don’t hate you, Pru. I could never hate you,” he said softly. “I love you. But I won’t lie to spare your feelings. I won’t pretend I’m not disappointed.”