Page 14 of Foolish Bride
“I am seeing you home. I am a gentleman, in spite of what you might think.” He crossed his arms and watched her.
She crossed her own and looked out the window. The carriage jerked forward, and the street lined with townhouses rolled by. A barouche sped past, and then a cart pulled by a sturdy workhorse. Elinor needed the distractions to help her swallow her emotions.
“Elinor, I am sorry. Regardless of what you think of me, it is because I have so much regard for you that I will not marry you. You deserve to have a whole husband and children of your own. I cannot give you what you need. You would come to regret our marriage, and in time you would have hated me for trapping you.”
“How convenient. Now I hate you, and we didn’t have to waste all that time.” It was liberating to speak her mind instead of playing the dope all the time.
He cringed, and his knuckles turned white where he gripped the window frame. “I suppose that is true. I do not want you to think what we had was unimportant to me. It was everything. I wanted to be your husband more than anything in the world.”
“Evidently, it was not enough.”
He moved to the other side of the carriage and took her hand. “Please, Elinor, do not do this to me. Tell me that you understand, and you do not hate me. I could not bear that too.”
Loving him was impossible and hating him just as hard. A single tear escaped and rolled down her cheek.
He leaned forward and kissed it away. Then he straightened. “I am sorry. I had no right.”
She held her words. It would do no good to rail at him. Another tear followed the first. When the carriage stopped in front of her home, she turned to him, and let her voice grow cold. “I regret this unpleasantness. I cannot forgive you. Good evening.”
The footman opened the door and let down the step. He handed her out, and she rushed toward the front door of the townhouse.
She hadn’t yet reached the door when tears fell in earnest.
* * * *
“Back home now, my lord?” Teddy, his footman, asked.
“Yes.” Michael stared at the closed door of the Burkenstock townhouse. He wished he’d thought to bring brandy for the ride home. He longed for something to kill his pain.
With a nod, the footman closed the door, and a moment later, the carriage moved again.
At first he thought it would be better if she hated him, but hearing her say those words was too much. He prayed that God would make his heart stop so that this horrible agony would end.
God’s answer was, “No.”
Michael lived and breathed. London rolled past in a blur of houses and humanity until the carriage door opened at his front step.
He made it halfway up the steps before the pain in his groin and leg overcame him. Rather than topple, he held tight to the stone rail and pulled himself through the front door. He clung to the foyer wall and Dolan’s arm to get to his study.
“Should I call the doctor, sir?”
Michael was sick of doctors and their terrible predictions. “Just bring me that decanter of brandy and a glass, Dolan.”
Dolan placed the decanter on the table beside Michael. After a quick bow, he left the study, closing the door behind him.
Michael poured the brandy to the brim and gulped it down. It warmed his chest to his belly. He poured another and drank.
Elinor had every right to be furious with him. The things he’d said and done were not gentlemanly and should not be forgiven. He’d only meant to frighten her off, but his temper had gotten the best of him.
Taking the decanter and glass with him, he went to the couch. Sleep wouldn’t come, so he sat up and poured more brandy.
After midnight, the study door opened.
“Dolan, I do not require anything but to be left alone.”
“That’s too bad.” Thomas Wheel sat across from him on the wingback chair. He ran a hand through his red hair.
“What are you doing here, Tom?”
