Page 96 of The Secret of Flirting
His mother caught his tone, as always. “And do you loveher?”
“You too?” he said irritably. “What does that matter? You loved Father. Look how that turned out.”
“True. But love is always a risk. Indeed, I find it strange that you will take any number of risks in your career—fomenting schemes and hiring spies and whatnot—without a thought, but you won’t take a chance on love.”
He scowled. “That’s different.”
“How?”
Because love could rip out your soul and tromp on it, leaving you with nothing. “Because when I take risks in my career, what results is bymychoice. If I take a risk with my heart, the results depend on someone else’s choice.”
“On her being a good person, you mean. Unlike your father.”
Mother knew how to cut right to the point. “I know already that she’s a good person.” He’d seen it in myriad ways. That wasn’t the issue.
“Then forgive me if I’m wrong,” his mother went on softly, “but it seems to me that you have already put your heart at risk, or you wouldn’t be fighting her over sacrificing herself for your benefit. You wouldn’t be dreaming up a scheme that could ruin your future, just for the chance of being with her.”
She rose to lay her hand on his shoulder. “I think your heart has already chosen, son. You just need to let it have its way. Otherwise, you’ll spend the rest of your life wondering if, because you were too afraid to take the risk, you missed your one chance at finding the person who makes you whole.”
With a squeeze of his shoulder, she left.
Long after she was gone, he sat pondering her words and considering how he’d lived his life. Perhaps Mother was right. He’d spent twenty years thinking that insulating himself from emotion would protect him from feeling too much. And it had worked. It had made him numb. To the world, to people... to the realities of his own childhood agonies.
It had also kept him from living a full life. Enjoying his own estate, having friends without thinking what purpose they served. Loving a woman who might love him back.
Thickness clogged his throat. He’d been ignoring the needs of his heart to avoid having the pain of a broken one, but he had lost the joy of a full one in the process. So perhaps it was time he considered the needs of his heart.
Because if he didn’t, he might lose the only thing he’d ever truly wanted.
Twenty-Three
Wanting to be sure to catch Lord Hartley before he left, Monique had asked Flora to wake her an hour before dawn. She’d considered speaking to him the night before about letting her join him on his trip to London, where she could then catch a steam packet to Dieppe, but she’d worried that he might reveal her plans to Gregory. So she’d decided it was best to take him by surprise just as he was leaving.
She’d then packed a large reticule with a few essentials. None of Aurore’s gowns and lavish nightwear would be going with her, since they weren’t hers to take. Instead, she was wearing the clothes she’d gone to Calais in.
“Flora,” she now said, “would you please go down and ask Lord Hartley if I might have a word with him before he departs?”
“Of course, Princess.”
Monique had just finished dabbing perfume in all the important spots when Flora came back in, sooner than she’d expected.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” she said, looking a bit anxious, “but his lordship left for London some hours ago. I believe Lord Fulkham asked him to leave earlier than planned.”
Monique stared at her, stunned. Gregory must have seen the letter earlier than she’d anticipated, and then packed Lord Hartley off to prevent her from leaving. Why, that... that deviouscanaille! How dare he! He knew perfectly well she couldn’t just set off for Dieppe on her own.
Ooh, she would give him a piece of her mind!
She marched out her door and down to Gregory’s bedchamber. She didn’t even have to burst in, for his door was open and he was ordering some footmen to carry out his trunks.
She waited until they had disappeared downstairs before she marched in and slammed the door behind her.
He turned, his face lighting up. “Ah, there you are. I was just coming to—”
“Take your leave?” she snapped. “Which you would not allowmeto do?”
A shadow crossed his features. “Hear me out, my sweet. I have a plan to save us.”
“I have one, too.” She stood there, shaking with anger. “But you won’t let me implement it because everything has to beyourway, inyourtime, even though it will mean...” She choked up, thinking of him burning his future down about his ears.
