Page 77 of The Viscount's Promise
“You lie,” he snarled. He stormed forward, until she backed up against the stone balustrade. “I repeat, madam, what have you done?” When she made no answer, merely glared mutinously up at him, a horrible sinking feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.
How had he not seen it before? Had he been so focused on what he perceived as Emily’s betrayal that he’d been unable to see the forest for the trees? “It was you, wasn’t it?” he rasped. “You made certain Emily knew about our past.” And then, even worse, a memory of Lydia sneaking into the study after him, kissing him. “Damn it, she followed you, didn’t she? That night at Willowhaven, you got her to follow you when you cornered me in the study. That was why you kissed me. It was all to destroy Emily’s confidence in me.”
Lydia pressed her lips closed in defiance. Even so, he saw the flash of real fear in her eyes. Without a doubt it had been Lydia. This had all the markings of her cruel mischief.
And he had been a fool—to believe Emily would have been swayed by something so minor as a past infatuation.
Damn it, he had to get back to her.
But his silence seemed to give Lydia courage. “If her confidence was shattered, do not blame me. If I loved someone, I would not allow something like that to come between us.”
The word took him aback. “Love?” He had known Emily cared deeply for him. But he had never believed she might love him. Did Emily truly love him, then?
Once again Lydia saw her mistake. “I meant that she must not love you or she would not have been swayed.”
He turned on her in an instant. “How could you have done it, Lydia? Was it not enough that you took my brother from me? You had to take Emily as well?”
Her face twisted in disgust, transforming to something ugly. “And you think you would have been happy with her? That sad, scarred thing? So sweet, so understanding, filling your head with silly stories of chickens of all things. How you could have fallen forthatis beyond me.”
He took an abrupt step toward her, making her gasp. “You followed us,” he snarled. “You listened in on a private moment, you defiled her confidence in me. All for your jealousies, your disgusting vanities.”
He turned away before he did something he regretted. “You have done enough damage. It is over, Lydia. And if you contact me or Emily ever again, I swear you shall pay.”
Not allowing her to respond, he stalked through the ballroom doors and into the brilliance within. All the while his head spun.
He was furious with himself. He’d thought that Emily had not had the faith in him to fight for what they’d had. Instead Lydia had gotten to her, had poisoned her. He well knew her skills in manipulation. He had been victim to them himself. And Emily, who had just begun to find confidence in herself, would have been defenseless against Lydia’s machinations.
No, Emily was not at fault for falling prey to such cruelties.Hewas. He had thought he was protecting her by keeping his distance. Instead it had been like offering up a lamb on a platter to a wolf.
But that was not the only revelation that had the power to unmoor him this night. Now that his soul was free of her influence, he could see that it had not been Lydia’s betrayal all those years ago that had affected him so deeply. Oh, it had hurt him, certainly. It had fractured his very heart.
But it had been Bertram that had shattered it beyond repair.
His brother had been the one person there for him throughout the entirety of his life. His rock, his anchor, whatever trite drivel people liked to associate with those that were the most important to them. From birth on, through their childhood, their parents’ deaths, the hell that had been their uncle’s house, they had never let the other forget that they were loved. That they were wanted.
Then had come Lydia.
When Bertram had announced his intent to wed her, something in Malcolm had shriveled and died. If Bertram could betray him, could hurt him, anyone could.
Now he was faced with the debilitating truth that Bertram had never willingly betrayed him. That he had been coerced into something he had never wanted.
The knowledge burned him down to a cinder.
Though a thousand candles shone brightly over his head, he felt charred inside, the darkness of it all-consuming. No light, no matter how radiant, would ever be able to reach it, to vanquish it.
Except for Emily, his heart whispered.
He stumbled at the vivid thought. Ignoring the tide of humanity surging around him, he grasped onto the memory of her for all he was worth. As he focused on her sweet face, on the way she felt in his arms and the incredible passion she had unselfishly given to him, he felt the scorched bits of himself fall away, the useless pile of rubble he had become realigning into something new and full of hope. And love.
Damn it, but he loved her.
He had already determined that he had been a fool to leave her. Now he knew, he would return to Willowhaven that very night. And would not leave again until Emily was his.
“Lord Morley.”
Lady Beezleton’s voice brought him up short. He smiled and bowed to his hostess, though inside he was seething with impatience to be off. “My lady.”
She peered at him through her lorgnette. “You look as if you are determined to get somewhere important.”
