Page 70 of The Viscount's Promise
“Now, you must know,” he said, backing up a step, “that my intentions were pure.”
“It seems everyone tonight had good intentions, but not a lot of sense,” Sir Tristan muttered.
Caleb cast him a furious glare.
“Caleb,” Imogen warned.
Unable to stand one moment more of the drama being played out before her, Emily stepped forward. “Caleb had Lord Morley promise to watch over me, much like a nursemaid over a particularly troublesome child.” The words came out much more acidic than she had planned.
“You knew about that?” Caleb asked in disbelief.
“You didwhat?” Imogen demanded of her husband.
“Am I that much trouble to you, Caleb,” Emily asked in a small voice, “that you must extract the promise of your friend to shadow my footsteps?”
“No.” Caleb rushed to her and pulled her into his embrace. “You are infinitely precious to me. I did what I did because I knew this house party would be difficult for you and I wanted to make certain you were protected. Which,” he continued, pulling away and eyeing his wife’s furious expression, “I suppose sounds weak, now that I think about it.”
“It was not weak,” Emily said, suddenly weary beyond belief. “I know what you did was out of love for me. Though I would have liked to have been given a choice in the matter.”
She made to leave then. What more was there to say? All her shame was out in the open for all to see. She wanted nothing more than to escape to her room and soak away her miseries in a hot bath.
Sir Tristan’s voice, however, stopped her.
“No,” he declared, frustration lacing his normally cheerful voice. “It was more than that idiotic promise. It was something more. I saw it with my own blasted eyes.”
“What the devil are you talking about, Tristan?” Caleb growled. “Don’t you see you’re upsetting her more?”
“If upsetting her is the only way to make her see that Morley’s feelings for her are genuine, then I will.” He strode to her and took up her hands. “You don’t know him as I do. Morley has been hurt, and dreadfully. More than one person has broken his heart, has betrayed his trust and abandoned him. First with his parents, dying when he was so young. Then his uncle, who took Morley and his brother in. Gad, but he hated them. The man made their lives miserable. But Morley always had Bertram through it all. And then me and Willbridge. But it was his brother who made his life at home bearable, who was his rock when things got bad.”
Despite herself, Emily hung on his every word. She pictured Malcolm as a boy, dark and sensitive and hurting. And her heart ached for him. “Then what?” she rasped when he fell silent.
“Morley fell in love.”
The words were like a slap to the face. She didn’t want to hear this, how Malcolm had loved another.
Sir Tristan seemed oblivious to her distress. “He was head over arse for her—pardon my language—and would have given her the moon if she’d asked. I’d never seen him so happy.” He paused, the pain in his eyes sparking to furious life. “Until,” he continued in a tight voice, “his brother went and married the girl himself.”
“Lady Morley,” Emily whispered brokenly.
Sir Tristan nodded grimly. “Yes, Lydia. She broke his heart. They both did, she and Bertram, for as horrible as Lydia’s betrayal had been, it was Bertram’s that completely destroyed him. He closed himself off after that. From everyone, Caleb and myself included. Oh, I knew he cared for us in his own way. And we stayed the closest of friends. Yet there was a wall put up after that day that no one, not even Caleb nor I, could breech.” He looked at her intently. “Until you.”
She shook her head, tears blinding her. “He doesn’t love me. He might have cared for me, but he doesn’t love me. Your affection for him is clouding your better judgment.”
“I’m right,” he insisted, triumph lighting his eyes. “And you love him as well.”
Anger rose up in her, fueled by her despair. “If you know my heart so well, then tell me, what am I supposed to do? We have broken things off. And he must hate me for abandoning him as nearly everyone else in his life has. Would you have me run after him? Believe that things will work out despite our very real differences? Throw myself on his mercy? Declare my love for him?”
“Yes.”
That one word, said with such surety, hung in the air between them.
Emily laughed, the sound raw and bitter. “You are mad.”
“No,” he said with utter calm, “I am completely sane.”
She stared at him long and hard. His gaze never wavered, as steady as his conviction in the insane idea she had spewed. He truly meant for her to do such a thing.
“I can’t,” she choked out. “Why won’t you see? I can’t go after him. I’m not strong enough.”
