Page 20 of When the Duke Comes to Play…
He finished with his boots and faced her once again. Her supple arms were wrapped protectively around her knees. She looked so vulnerable it made his chest burn and ache, even more so when he noticed the glistening tracks of silent tears coursing down her love-tinted cheeks.
He moved to go to her but froze when she shook her head. It took everything in him to respect her wishes when all he wanted to do was enfold her in his arms, curl back into bed around her and never let go. But he had to. This was it. Their time had reached its inevitable conclusion. He’d known this was coming all along—couldn’t believe he had once been looking forward to the date because it meant he’d finally return home—but now…now Charles felt hot and cold, and vaguely nauseous.
“Ariel…” The scratch of his voice was like a scream in the silent room. It was heartbreaking to watch her wipe her eyes on the back of her hand. He wanted to dry her tears…wanted to whip himself for having been the cause of them in the first place.
“Please go,” she said in a pained whisper.
“I cannot. Not when you are like this.”
“Go.”
“Please, Ariel. Can we at least talk?”
“Go!”
Charles froze mid-step toward her when her balled fist hit the bed with a muffled thud.
“Leave now,” Ariel sniffed. “I cannot bear it any longer. I need you to go before I break completely.” Charles’ heart stuttered. “This arrangement always had a clear termination. And I know I’m being unfair acting this way when you have been nothing but forthright, but you’ll need to forgive me. This is a very…unique situation.”
“Do not apologize for anything.” He reached for her, but she snapped back at him.
“If you touch me, I will shatter.” Her voice cracked on the last word. She took a slow, shaky breath and screwed her eyes shut “Please respect my wishes and leave. Everyone will be retired by now, so you should be safe leaving by way of the kitchen door. Go home to Boston, Charles.” Her shimmering eyes met his.“Return to your life in America.”
It took everything in him to not disregard her wishes and comfort her. He respected her far too much to forcibly wrap her in his arms and never let her go, so there was nothing he could do except leave Ariel wrapped in her sheets, tears streaming down her face.
The image would be burned upon his memory forever.
The sound of her quiet sobs would haunt him ’til his dying day.
Chapter Nine
Despite her freshly broken heart bleeding inside of her breast, Ariel knew she must force herself to go through the motions of her life and obligations. She allowed herself one night of wallowing and tears (full-blown sobs, rivers of snot, and unattractive red-faced crying, if she were honest), and woke the next morning with a puffy face, bleary eyes, a sore throat, and the single-minded resolve that she would be strong. She reminded herself repeatedly that they’d had an understanding; Charles always had every intention to America—had always made it painfully clear from the start—and it was her bloody fault for falling in love with him like a foolish girl in her first Season.
That morning, she surfaced from a fitful doze and rang for a cold compress with a cup of very strong tea, which turned into two more compresses and an entire pot of the strong brew. It was afternoon by the time she deemed her appearance presentable enough and she allowed her maid to help her into a teal gown with a scooped neckline and pleating on the bodice. It was lovely and would be perfect for the tea she and Arnie were to have with Caro and her husband, Marquess Brinley, but Ariel still felt hollow and bruised, like a sack of flour thrown about, emptied, and then tossed aside.
She hardly knew how she’d arrived at Brinley House, but there she was, sitting beside Caro, a cup and saucer of fine bone chinain her hand and an array of scones and delicately crafted finger sandwiches laid out before her. She usually loved the treats Caro’s cook created for their tea, but her stomach roiled at the mere thought of food. Ariel tried her best to smile and nod in all the right places as Caro described her son’s first steps. She wanted to be happy, really she did…but it was difficult when one’s heart was deflated.
It was everything she could do not to glance at the gilded clock on the marble mantle and confirm what she knew in her soul: Charles was gone. His ship had ridden the tide out and he was on his way to Boston.
There was nothing to be done but to move on with her life as well.
She straightened her spine and steeled her heart, no matter how much it cried out in agony at the loss. She did her best to listen to the conversation and participate as best she could, but a muffled kerfuffle at the front of the house interrupted them.
Ariel nearly dropped her cup in her lap when the door to the sitting room flew open with a loud bang. The marquess stood immediately, utilizing his body to protect his wife with astonishing speed and selflessness. While Arnie stood, scone crumbs dotting the front of his coat, he did so more out of surprise than any instinctive need to protect.
A man with a head of unruly dark curls, wearing a coat of fine navy wool shook off a footman. He straightened and tugged at his lapels, and Ariel’s heart stopped at the sight.
“For the last time…I refuse to wait on the front step while you check if they are at home; I canseethe marquess, his wife, Lady Ariel, and the earl through the damned window from the street,” Charles growled.
“Ryton?” The marquess reared back in shock at the blatant disregard of all social niceties and manners. His eerily blue eyes were wide with confusion. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Apologies,” Charles said with a cursory nod before his gaze lit upon Ariel. His eyes darkened and softened, her pulse quickened so much her fingers trembled and she was forced to set down the teacup with a clatter. “I stopped by Lady Ariel’s house, but I was informed she was here.” The heaving of his broad chest told her he’d run the entire way. What a sight that must have been.
Before the marquess could say anything else, Charles strode toward Ariel and, despite their audience, he lowered himself to his knees before her and took her trembling hand in his.
“I couldn’t leave you,” he said, his eyes boring into hers. Ariel swore she stopped breathing. “All my luggage was stowed. I boarded the ship and had to lock myself in my cabin. No matter how many times I swore to myself I wouldn’t, no matter how much I berated myself for my stupidity, I couldn’t go without letting you know. By the time I’d relented to my madcap mind and returned to the deck, we’d already begun to shove off.” He gave a wry chuckle. “I suppose being a duke does have its perks because they listened when I demanded to be returned to shore at once and a rowboat was summoned.” Charles heaved a sigh and cupped her cheek. The room around them was so silent one could hear a mouse sneeze. “I will gladly give up everything I have in America for you if you will take me and my cat. Forever. You’re likely both our only chance at happiness, curmudgeons that we are.” Ariel emitted a watery laugh and placed her hand over his. His beloved face swam before her eyes and only then did she realize she’d begun to cry. His thumb stroked away a tear just before Charles leaned in and sealed his mouth over hers.
∞∞∞
