“I loved you,” she said. “Just because I knew it was impossible didn’t mean I loved you less. And I hated you for forcing me to choose.”
He was wrapped around her, warm and solid. Their breaths combined in a ragged symphony. As much as it had hurt, it had felt good for Ginny to let out that tightly-controlled emotion, to release it into the air. Every breath she took was charged with the pain she’d buried for so long.
But his arms around her told another story. Yes, they’d hurt one another. But he could still make her feel better.
And then he took a deep, shuddering breath.
She opened her eyes. “But here we are,” she said. “After all these years. Maybe it can still be possible.”
“No.” His voice was quiet. Too quiet. “It can’t. It bloody well can’t. I can’t do this to you.”
She tilted her head. His mouth was set in a grim line; he’d made fists of his hands.
She had been so certain that he’d been joking in the beginning. When he’d threatened to hurt her—he’d never meant it. She gave him a watery smile. “Is this the part where you rip out my heart and stomp on it?” she asked.
“No.” He let out a long, slow breath. “This is the part where I rip out my own. I told you I was a wealthy man. It was...not exactly a lie. But, you see, I’ve made an investment. I’ve mortgaged everything I have to finish a railway line. We’re weeks from completion. If I’d managed it, it would have created a direct line from London to Castingham, the first ever. I would have been richer than I’ve ever dreamed.”
She looked down. “I knew that. I’ve followed your company’s progress in the papers.”
“Ha. There’s something you should know that is not in the papers. There’s a canal owner who wants to stop me. He’s bought a majority of my company. Tomorrow, he’ll record the transfer of shares, and after that, he’ll call a special meeting of the shareholders. It’s only a matter of time until he stops work altogether. I have liens on everything—my home, my business, even my expectations from my father. All of my debts are about to come crashing down on my head. I’ll have to sell my damned cuff links just to make the final payroll. When everything has settled, I’ll be destitute.”
She didn’t know how to describe the emotion that filled her—hard and impossibly prickly. She hadn’t known the extent of his debts. And…he’d believed that he had nothing, and he hadn’t told her?
She was still reeling from this when he spoke again. “That’s why I had to marry you today,” he said flatly. “Not tomorrow or next week. Because if I’d waited even twenty-four hours, the news would have become public. And you wouldn’t have married me.”
She’d buried all her worries next to her heart for so long that they’d become second nature to her. This time, she wasn’t going to let them fester. She didn’t try to hold back how upset she was, didn’t try to smooth it into calm politeness. “You knew I had a horror of poverty, and you were going to trick me into it?”
“Yes.”
“That’s awful.” She was crying, now. She didn’t care if he saw it—she wanted him to know, this time, how furious she was.
“Oh, Ginny.” His thumb traced the tear down her cheek. His hands were still warm.
She still loved him. She could have forgiven recklessness on his part. But to deliberately imply an untruth about the one thing that he knew would matter to her? He’d intended to put her back in the hell she’d gone through before—only this time, he would have bound her into it with matrimony, swallowing any chance of escape. She loved him, but right now her love seemed a painful thing.
“I’ve bungled this so badly,” he said. “God. I’ve made a mess from the start. I wish I’d—I wish I’d done anything except hurt you.”
But he had. He’d hurt her seven years ago, when he’d not listened to her protests. And he’d hurt her again now.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”
He’d hurt her, but still he held her through her tears. He held her until her sobs faded to sniffles.
“I’ve made one fortune,” he finally said. “I can make another.”
A new wave of anger hit her, and Ginny looked up. “You still think this is about nothing more than the money? I was crying because my best friend in the entire world lied to me and admitted that he was planning to defraud me. I was crying because I am afraid that I’ve found you only to lose you again. It’s not just about the money. It’s about the fact that you think you can push me into doing whatever it is that you want by any means necessary.”
“It has to be about the money!” he protested. “I can figure out how to make money. I can’t figure out how to make this right.”
She took that in silence, waiting for him to hear what he’d said.