A Lady of Persuasion (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #3)

Hetta stared numbly at his cravat.

“I need to love,” he said quietly, gathering her to his chest. His heartbeat pounded against her cheek. “And be loved. Do you think you could love me, Hetta?”

“I think I already do.”

“Very good, then.” His chin settled on her head. “And now for the trickier part. Can you allow me to love you?”

She closed her eyes. “I think so. Yes.”

He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, and she felt his wide smile. “There now,” he teased. “Was that so hard?”

“Yes. It was terrifying.”

He held her tight. “I know, my dear. I know.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

It was nearly dark by the time Toby left Yorke’s townhouse. After seeing his mother into the keeping of Augusta and Reginald, playing impromptu host to a parade of mourners, and speaking with Yorke’s valet—about the waistcoat, among other arrangements—he finally made his way to the carriage.

“We’re for Wynterhall,” he told the driver before climbing in. It didn’t matter that it was late, or that he hadn’t any of his belongings packed. He’d send for them tomorrow. Perhaps he was a coward, but he just hadn’t the heart to go home and face Isabel again. Toby settled onto the seat of the gloomy carriage and immediately turned his gaze to the small window. He couldn’t abide the darkness right now, and he certainly couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her tear-streaked face, her pale expression of betrayal. That image would haunt him forever—as would the knowledge that he’d caused it. Staring out the carriage window thus, with his mind so filled with sorrow and regrets, it took him some moments to realize he was not alone. Not until the shadows across from him shifted in a stealthy, sinister way, drawing his eye. Toby’s heart began to pound in his chest. He held his breath.

And then … the shadows spoke.

“Bel sent me a note.”

Toby jumped in his seat. “Jesus,” he said, pressing a hand over his racing heart. He leaned forward, blinking to make out his companion’s form. “Sophia? Is that you?”

“Of course it is,” she said.

“Good Lord.” He exhaled loudly. “For a moment there, I thought you were Gray, come to kill me.”

She gave a disbelieving laugh. “Why would Gray want to kill you?”

Well, if that answer wasn’t obvious to her …

Toby cleared his throat. “Just what did Bel’s note say?”

“That Mr. Yorke had died, of course. And that you’d be leaving for Surrey. Gray’s away on business today, but I wanted to come pay my respects.” She leaned forward and placed a hand on his arm. “I know he meant a great deal to you, Toby. I’m so sorry he’s gone.”

“Thank you.” He stared at her hand on his sleeve, until she withdrew it. “Why didn’t you come inside?”

“It didn’t seem right,” she said. “I knew your whole family was there, and considering our history … I didn’t want to be a distraction.”

The carriage wheels rattled over cobblestones as they rounded a turn.

“Why did you do it?”

He had to ask. He had to know, no matter how much it hurt to hear it, just what it was that made him so patently undesirable as a husband. And she was the only one who could tell him.

“Why did you run?”

She faded back into the shadows and fell silent.

“Why did you jilt me?” he continued, growing agitated. “Why did you leave without saying a word? Was it something I did? Something I didn’t do? Was the prospect of marriage to me so revolting that you simply had to remove yourself to the other side of the globe?”

“Toby, I—”

He punched the seat cushion. “I said nothing. When you disappeared without so much as an adieu, I said nothing. When you returned from your little honeymoon cruise and all London was toasting Gray … I said nothing, to anyone. I could have ruined you both, made you the center of speculation and scandal. But I didn’t. And still, even now—we’re practically family, and yet you’re barely civil to me. Damn it, you owe me some answers.”

“I do,” she said hurriedly. “I know I do. And I know I owe you far more than that. I’ve simply been so ashamed, so sorry for how I treated you. I didn’t know how to face you again.”

“Well, if you’re so ashamed of your behavior, why did you behave that way in the first place?

Did you have so little regard for my feelings?”

“No, of course not. I cared for you, Toby, a great deal. I … I suppose I cared for you too much to marry you.”

He laughed bitterly. “What a sentiment. Truly, it warms the heart.”

“I cared for you, but we didn’t love one another,” she said. “And I thought we both deserved to find love.”

He snorted. Oh, yes. He had gotten what he deserved all right.