Page 30 of Yours Always
Yes. No. I don’t know.
The thoughts curled in her chest like smoke. “As I recall,” she said coldly, “what I want is of no consequence.”
“Lizzy, please—”
“Sarah,” she interrupted. “Sarah will do just fine.”
She could see her words had hit a wound, though he tried to hide it. He stepped forward, hand lifted in offering. “Can we please sit while we talk?”
“I prefer to stand.”
He dropped his hand to his side. “I owe you an apology,” he said. “For the things I said before I left.”
“There’s no need.” Her voice was tight and controlled, nothing like the rush of nerves she was feeling inside. “You were right.” His brow furrowed. “What?”
“Everything you said. I refused to grow up. I refused to accept that my life was changing. I disappointed my mother. You and Benjamin were always cleaning up after me. I took Nathaniel’s affections for granted…” Matthew flinched at the Duke’s name. “...and it was time I stopped.”
Matthew held her gaze, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.“Regardless of any truth,” he said, his voice rough, “I shouldn’t have said it the way I did.”
“But you meant it.”
“I regret it.”
“Which part?” She stepped forward now, chin lifted, refusing to let him look away. “Do you regret calling me selfish? Naive? Or is it the part where you pushed me into accepting the Duke’s proposal that you regret the most?” She saw his throat work as he swallowed.
“I wasn’t myself. I need to explain.”
Sarah nodded once.
“My aunt died, and with her passing came a letter. A will that she had hidden. My uncle had a son to a mistress, and everything he owned he left to that boy; my inheritance, my father’s business, all of it.” Sarah’s eyes widened in shock, but she said nothing. “I went to Scotland to fight for it, and to try and salvage what I could. When I came back, I sold my townhouse and I bought back the business.”
“You sold your home?” she whispered.
“I had no choice.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wasn’t thinking clearly. I was drowning. I thought if I let you go, it would be easier.”
“Easier for whom, Matthew?”
He didn’t answer. The silence that followed was thick and weighted with everything neither of them dared to say. The air between them seemed to still. She could hear the quiet crackle of the fire in the hearth, the distant creak of old timbers shifting in the walls, and the faint hitch of her own breath as it caught in her throat.
He looked at her, but not the way he once had. Not with teasing. Not with fondness. With ache. With restraint. With the terrible knowledge of what he had lost. Her fingers curled at her sides. The space between them was only a few feet. But it felt like a chasm.
“Are you happy?”
“What?” His question had caught her off guard.
“You accepted the Duke’s proposal.” The words hung there low, quiet, undeniable. Not a question. Not a plea. Just a fact. “Why wouldn’t I?” Her voice rose, too quickly. “He is a good man. Kind. Honest. He loves me.” Each word landed like a shield she couldn’t stop raising, as if listing his virtues could explain the ache still lodged in her chest.
“But do you love him?”
The question struck like lightning sudden, searing, and too direct to dodge. Sarah froze. Her face paled, the breath catching sharp in her throat. “How dare you,” she whispered. Not loud or angry, simply wounded. “You have no right to ask me that.”
He stepped forward, instinctive, aching. “Lizzy, please—” The nickname pierced through her like a thread pulled too tight. It used to mean safety. It used to mean home. Now it felt like a lie.
“No!” Her voice cracked, too full of pain to be soft. “You are not my brother. You are not my intended. I don’t even know if you are still my friend.” She could feel her pulse in her throat all the way to her fingertips. The words were shaking out of her now, raw and breathless. “So tell me, what gives you the right to ask that question?”
