“Good heavens! Whatever is the matter, Kitty?”
She had come home one week earlier, and there had been hours of hushed
conversations between her and Mama, which I had not been able to listen in on. But now I wanted the truth. I deserved the truth.
“I want to know exactly what happened at Brighton.”
She carefully set down the brush and smoothed her hair, pushing it back
behind her shoulders before answering me.
“I tried to secure a marriage proposal, and I failed. That is all.”
I moved closer, leaning down to look into her eyes so that she could see exactly how furious I was.
“How did you try? How did you fail? What precisely was the scandal?”
She pursed her lips, regarding me for a long moment, until I wanted to
scream with impatience. Finally she said, “I will tell you this only because you may want to try it for yourself some day. I stole into Lord Rule’s bedchamber and waited for him one night.”
I staggered back a step. “No,” I whispered.
“It did not work because his valet discovered me and alerted Lady
Covington to the situation. She got rid of me before I had a chance to see Lord Rule.” She sighed and picked up her brush again. “But it is no matter. I will simply try again, with someone else.”
I clutched the bedpost, feeling the need of something steady to keep myself upright.
“You thought to entrap him? So that he would be forced to marry you?”
“Don’t look at me like that, Kitty! It is not so bad. Besides, it wasn’t even my idea. It was Mama’s.”
I could not understand her, nor did I want to. But I did want her secrets.
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J u l i a n n e D o n a l D s o n
“Speaking of Mama,why has Mrs. Delafield had such a hatred toward her
these last few years?”
Eleanor went back to brushing her thick dark hair. “Didn’t you know?
Mrs. Delafield caught Mama flirting with Mr. Delafield, and she cannot
forgive her for it.”
My stomach lurched. “She did not . . . do anything more, did she? More
than flirt?”
“No. He wouldn’t have her.”
I looked at our reflections in the mirror. We looked so similar, and yet I felt when I looked at Eleanor as if I were seeing a stranger. So I left her, feeling numb inside, and walked back to my room. As soon as my gaze caught the
destroyed model of Blackmoore, the numbness left me, and I possessed only the dark, searing pain of loss. I sat at the foot of the ruin I had caused and wept with despair.
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Chapter 33
Present Day
Henry waited for my answer. The rooks were quiet. I could smell the hint of rain in the night air. Misery consumed me. I couldn’t answer him.
I could not reveal the secrets of that night to him, no matter what the cost. I shook my head. “No.”
“No?”
“No.”
He leaned down, looking into my face, his grey eyes tight with some strong emotion I couldn’t name. “I need to know.”
I bit my lip and tried to banish the smell of peonies from my mind.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
He moved away from me suddenly and walked across the tower, paus-ing at the opposite wall before turning around. “Even if it means losing out on your trip to India?”
My refusal to answer might cost me my trip to India. But more importantly—more importantly? Yes, I really did just think that—it might cost me what I now had with Henry—this closeness, this transparency, this companionship.
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J u l i a n n e D o n a l D s o n I nodded, swallowing hard. “If it comes to that, yes. Even if it means that, I will not answer that question.”
He walked back to me, more slowly this time, and said, “That is the only thing I want to know. Please.” His voice was rough. “Please don’t fly away to some godforsaken country and leave me wondering for the rest of my life.”
I looked away and felt very, very small when I said, “I am sorry, Henry.”
We stood there in silence for a long moment, until finally Henry sighed and said, “What are we going to do now?”
“We could . . . renegotiate, I suppose.” I had no hope—I deserved no leniency. But I tried anyway. “I could give you something in return for your last proposal. Something you want just as much as that secret.”
He looked into my eyes. The light shifted, his gaze dropped, and he was suddenly looking at my mouth. “A kiss,” he said in a low voice.
A shiver rippled over my skin. Everywhere. “You are not serious.”
“Am I not?” His voice held a note of teasing but something else as well. A husky, tantalizing note that sent shivers through me again.
The wind blew harder, sending another chill through me, and then suddenly, without warning, cold rain fell from the sky. It came all at once, in a sheet of icy needles that made me gasp with surprise.
Henry grabbed my hand and we ran together across the tower. I took hold of the lantern but dropped it in my haste, extinguishing the flame.
The tower was plunged in darkness and we were suddenly blind. Henry stopped running and I collided with him. He caught me and pulled me close to him and said in my ear, over the sound of the pounding rain, “Stay close. Let me lead the way. I don’t want you falling through the trapdoor,” while the rain drenched us.
“Alright,” I finally breathed.
“Wait a minute while my eyes adjust,” he murmured. His arm was strong around my waist, his hand pressed against the small of my back, and I leaned into him while the rain drenched us and my heart pounded 230
and my mind screamed at me to do something—to find a way to fix what was broken between us so that I would never have to leave him. But there was no fixing this. I knew that. So I closed my eyes and breathed in the dusky smell of rain on heather and let my heart break a little more.
All too soon he moved away from me. His hand trailed down my arm until it encircled my wrist. I moved my hand to grasp his, and let him pull me forward until we stood at the edge of the trapdoor. The steps were slick with rain and we moved slowly down the steep, winding staircase.
We paused in the tunnel for a moment, catching our breaths, and I pushed back strands of dripping wet hair. Henry said, “You’ll catch cold if we don’t hurry. Come on.” He kept my hand in his and I followed him through the dark tunnel that led under the moors. And I realized that I would follow him anywhere, if it were possible.
I shivered, my teeth chattering, as the cold increased and my wet clothes clung to me. We exited the secret passageway carefully, with Henry looking to see if anyone was in the bird room or out in the hall before leading me out. He picked up the candle he had left burning and we hurried up the stairs to the west wing, dripping cold rain the whole way. And finally we were in the hall leading to my bedroom. Henry pulled me to a stop outside my bedroom door, his hand warm around mine. He set the candle on the windowsill where we had talked my first night there.
He turned to me, his wet hair reminding me of the day he had rescued me from the river. His eyes were as dark as the storm clouds outside, and I could see his chest rise and fall with his breathing, his wet shirt clinging to his shoulders and chest and arms.
I swallowed and stepped away from him, nervousness racing through me, spreading fire through my veins. We were not finished with our bargain. Henry must have had the same thought, because his mouth lifted in something halfway between a smirk and a smile and he said, “About that kiss . . .”
I stepped back until my back was against the wall next to my bedroom. “You were not serious,” I said, only half believing my words. But 231