Page 19 of With Love in Sight
The question itself did not cause him to rush to her and take up her hands. It was the small catch in her voice, the slight quiver to her lips that did it. She was angry, yes. But also hurt, and he could see from the tense line of her shoulders and the jut of her chin that it took every ounce of bravery she possessed to confront him. Yes, he should escape, should make the break he had determined to. But he could not. Not when she was before him like this.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his thumb rubbing the backs of her knuckles. “I am trying to do what is best for you.”
“I don’t understand.” She didn’t draw her hand away, but he could feel it trembling in his grasp.
How could he possibly explain this to her? Finally realizing that only a direct answer would suffice, he blurted, “There has been interest in the state of our friendship. My friends have begun to question it. I knew it was only a matter of time before others in Society begin to as well.”
“Ah, now I do comprehend,” she replied, coldness seeping into her tone. “You have been made aware of the repercussions of a friendship between us. You worry about the talk it may cause and how you are presented to your peers, having befriended one such as me. You need explain it no further.” She began to draw her hands from his, but his grip tightened.
“No,” he replied harshly. “That’s not it at all. And why do you continue to belittle yourself? You know I think of you as my very dear friend.”
“Forgive me if I doubt your words, but you have proved that to be false the last two days, my lord.”
Caleb felt the flush of anger dim his vision. “I did it for your own benefit, not my own.”
She raised a mocking brow. “My benefit? That is an interesting excuse to give. For I can assure you, I have received no benefit from having been ignored by you.”
“Listen to me, you daft woman,” Caleb growled, losing patience. “I don’t give a damn what others say about me. I have flitted on the edge of what was proper for longer than I care to admit, and never once have I worried about what was said about me. But I would not have you hurt by any gossip that may arise from us becoming close. For that’s what will happen if people begin to question our friendship. I don’t want others speculating on us.” He sighed in frustration. “They’ll think I’m toying with you. I’d not have you laughed at,” he finished lamely.
A strange look passed over her face, gone so quickly that he could not grasp the meaning of it. “I assure you,” she said, “I do not give a fig what they all say about me.”
He felt anger—and a bit of relief, truth be told—at her stubbornness. “You should care. They can make your life a living hell. I’m trying to protect your reputation by staying away from you.”
“Don’t you think I should be the one to make that decision?” she said, her quiet voice full of a steel he had never heard before. “Your friendship, as unlikely as it is, has given me the greatest pleasure I have had besides my siblings’ love these past eight years.”
He felt something long dormant in his chest flare to life. “As has yours.”
“I have enough outside forces dictating what I do, what I wear,” she continued fiercely. Her hand came up to her temple but dropped quickly. “But,” she declared, her eyes boring into his, “I will not allow anyone to dictate who I am friends with.”
“But your reputation—”
“And what will they do to me?” she demanded. “Will they shun me? Ignore me? I am fully used to such things, I assure you. And if I’m sent back to the country in shame because of it, so be it. It is where I want to be, anyway.”
She was not listening. He cast about desperately, but the only defense he could see to use was the one he did not want to reveal to her. He did not want her knowing about his part in Jonathan’s death, to have her look on him differently because of it. The very idea sent him into a cold sweat. But he must do something. Surely he could warn her away without telling her directly.
The ruined walls of the monastery seemed to be passing judgment on him. He would never be free of that one horrible moment. It would haunt him forever.
“Imogen,” he began gruffly, “you do not know what kind of person I truly am, what I have done. I am responsible for horrible things, things that you would hate me for should you ever find them out.”
Her eyes softened. “They are all past sins, my lord. We all of us have done things we regret. The point is, you do regret them.”
He ran a hand over his face, even as he felt that wonderful release from the past that she, and only she, seemed to bring. He was losing the will to fight, but he dug deep. He had to tell her.
In that moment, she began speaking. “You and I are friends, are we not?” At his nod, she continued, “I am six and twenty, my lord. And in that time I have not had one friend—until you. I am not going to give you up so easily, I’m afraid. Are you so willing to give up on me?”
The last of his will vanished in a moment. Damn his weakness, his selfishness. He squeezed her fingers and stepped closer. “No,” he said forcefully.
She smiled for the first time that day. “Then there is no question of us ending this friendship, is there?”
Her countenance transformed. He wanted to kiss her, he realized. The urge to draw her close, to gather her in his arms and feel her mouth beneath his, almost overpowered him.
He felt himself bending toward her, felt his heart gallop like mad in his chest. Her eyes widened, her lips parting. His brain took over then, fairly screaming at him, stopping him cold: You fool, this is Imogen, not a common trollop! He shuddered and pulled back.
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he forced a smile. “No, there is no question of it,” he murmured. “But we must take care. Despite your disregard for your reputation, it is of importance to me.”
“Very well,” she agreed quietly, her eyes bright.
He tucked her arm through his and began to lead her back through the ruins. He was a selfish creature, he thought with disgust. The truth of the matter was, he needed her. She grounded him as nothing else had in ten long years. He was settled and calm with her, who he should have been instead of who he was. If she was strong enough to brave the old tabbies of the ton to keep their friendship, then so was he.
