Page 50 of The Marquis' Game of Seduction
Allan appeared in the crack. He was fresh-faced from a clear walk outside, and he brought with him a gust of fresh air and the smell of dying flowers and moist earth. He walked in and closed the door and then just stared down at Colin. Colin could sense what the scene looked like: a toddler-like man, in the midst of a kind of pout, wanting to bemoan the world.
“Sitting in the dark, are we?” Allan asked.
“Far too sunny today,” Colin returned.
“What a monstrous thing to say,” Allan said. “Next you’re going to tell me you’re too happy and had to come in here to fight it.”
“Not quite,” Colin said.
Realising how ridiculous it was to sit with his friend in the dark, he drew back the curtains only slightly, allowing a sliver of silver light through the window. Allan sat across from him and crossed his arms over his chest.
“You spoke with her,” he said suddenly. “You told her the secret.”
Colin huffed. “Not exactly. But I did speak with her. I told her… I told her what I felt for her. I emptied my emotions to her. I wanted to make her see… But just now, Laurence asked her to go and work as a governess at his estate when Amelia is fully well. And you know what she said?”
Allan shrugged. “She wants to ensure she has a position.”
Colin felt he could spit fire. “The act of telling him that it would be her pleasure to work for him… it was an act of aggression. It was an act that told me everything I need to know about what she feels for me. She cares little for me. And perhaps she even used me. It’s difficult to say.”
Allan shifted. His chair creaked beneath him. “It sounds like you’re reading really far into something that lacked any kind of finality.”
“You weren’t there, Allan. You didn’t hear it.” Colin ripped his fingers through his hair. “I should have never allowed this to happen again. I knew better, from last time. It’s ridiculous to ever think that love ends in anything but tragedy and heartache.
“Even when Amelia fell in love, it led to horror. Laurence ripped her away from England. My father never recovered. And now, my mother lives in the city and aches for my father and has endless nightmares and will surely die within the next five years—cold and lonely and afraid. Even that love story has an improper ending.
“But it’s clear, Allan. She wants to leave me. She sees this only as a stepping stone to her next employment,” Colin continued. “And it’s as though Laurence has only reappeared in my life to take her away.”
Allan shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry, but I simply don’t see it this way. The girl has had a difficult life. She’s fought tooth and nail to get to where she is today. I’m sure she doesn’t fully understand what you want from all of this. How clear were you, really, Colin? Because I’ve known you a very long time, and I know that you struggle with making yourself understood.”
Colin felt murderous. He wanted to smash the things off his desk, watch them splinter across the floor. He’d never felt more helpless, and thus wanted to do something, anything, with his hands to make himself feel useful.
“I haven’t felt like this in eons, Allan. You know this. You know that I didn’t expect that I’d have these feelings again. Already, I felt that I couldn’t imagine watching her walk away from this estate. I was poised to—to ask her to remain…”
“Colin. You’re walking yourself in circles,” Allan said.
“I’m simply…” Colin paused and glanced down at his hands. He took a deep breath and then allowed his shoulders to slump. He felt it, now. He felt the devastation of it. He wasn’t angry any longer; he could feel it slipping away from him, like water cascading down a roof.
“You’re hurt. You’re unsure,” Allan offered.
Colin didn’t respond. He coughed once and glanced back toward the window. As if to tease him, the sunlight remained stalwart. He rose once more and peered outside to see Rose and Duncan out on the moor, running together. He wanted nothing more than to join them.
“I feel like a prisoner in my own house,” he said.
“You’ve made yourself to be the prisoner,” Allan said. “You latch yourself here. And you write and tell me that you’ll never be normal again. Perhaps this is your chance, a real shot at normality. Why not take that chance?”
Colin closed the curtains once more. He sighed and told Allan that he’d clearly given him a great deal to think about, but he wasn’t sure where his thoughts would land. Allan demanded that the two of them get out of the house; that it was far too dangerous for Colin’s psyche to remain there all the day through.
Throughout the afternoon, Colin and Allan rode on horseback across the moors, whipping through the forests, taking brief pauses at little creeks and rivers. They spoke very little. It seemed Allan sensed that Colin needed only the open, crisp air, a way to let his thoughts bleed out of his ears and release pressure. When they returned home, Colin felt unsure of how long they’d been away. It might have been hours or days or weeks. His body ached with the severity of their ride.
But thankfully, when he put himself to sleep that night, he was able to close his eyes and fade his mind to darkness. He didn’t have to dive into the horrors of his turmoil. He was allowed a moment of reprieve.
Chapter 21
After lunch the following day, Rose and Anna met in the library for another reading lesson. Rose hadn’t seen much of Anna since their journey to the market. When they sat at their familiar table, Anna’s eyes twinkled and she leaned close and she whispered, “How did it go at the party?”
Now, this was certainly a question, wasn’t it? How did it go? If Anna had asked Rose this question immediately upon her waking the previous morning, Rose might have responded far differently. She might have leaped into her friend’s arms and hugged her close and asked her opinion about wedding flowers and wedding proprieties and whether or not this was all a dream.
As it was, a great deal had occurred since that beautiful, impossible night, when she’d allowed herself to crumble into slumber across his chest. She felt sure that she’d heard his heartbeat in her dreams. And the words he’d spoken just before it—a confession that he was falling in love with her. How could any of it have been perceived otherwise?
