Chapter Fifteen #2
“An unfortunate situation all around,” Biddleton murmured. “And one that isn’t quite fair for all involved.”
“I can’t help that. If society demands I marry someone they approve of, I retain the right to fight that in my own way.”
“Always a rebel, my friend.” Biddleton dropped a hand on Gregory’s shoulder.
His eyes were kind. “I fought against those same thoughts before I finally threw caution to the wind and pursued Clarissa. There are times in a man’s life when he must make a stand for what he believes in, and the rest can go hang.
” One of his dark eyebrows lifted. “I’ll leave you to it.
The opera will start soon in any event. Don’t linger too long. ”
“Thank you.” For long moments, he stood here at the column.
When he peeked around it again, the crowds were moving toward boxes.
If he didn’t act fast, he would miss his chance.
Screwing his courage to the sticking place, he tugged at the bottom of his waistcoat and then left the security of his hiding place.
As he neared her location, he cleared his throat.
“Good evening, Mrs. Knight. Lord Conklin.” He nodded at them both.
“Gregory, er Mr. Hamilton.” Constance’s eyes rounded. Shock warred with panic in her expression as she immediately dropped her hand from the viscount’s arm. “How lovely to see you again.”
Conklin frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t have the pleasure.”
He barely paid the other man attention. “I’m Mr. Hamilton, barrister. If you don’t mind, I would like a moment to speak with the widow.”
A barely audible gasp escaped Constance. She glanced at Conklin. “Mr. Hamilton is an old friend of mine. Go ahead into the box. I will join you in a few moments. I do so enjoy the opera.”
Ignoring the “old friend” comment, he waited in some impatience for the viscount to amble along the corridor until her reached a specific box. After he vanished behind the curtains, Gregory found her gaze with his. “How have you been?” God, that wasn’t what he wanted to say!
“I am keeping busy so I don’t need to think about other… things.” Those expressive eyes were trained on his face. She looked at him as if she wished to memorize every nuance of his face. “Are you well?”
“That depends on the day.” Why were they standing here conversing in cold, polite talk? It was such a waste. “You are stunning in that gown. Conklin is a fortunate man.”
A blush colored her pale cheeks. “Thank you, but if I may say, you seem exhausted, Gregory. Are you taking care of yourself?”
“I’m getting along.” What the devil should he do with his hands? “Have you, uh, had any more of your episodes?”
“A few.” She nodded and lifted a hand as if she would touch his face, but then apparently thought the better of it and let the appendage fall to her side.
“I suffered through them alone; Lord Conklin doesn’t understand what needs to be done during those times.
” Her shrug only lifted one shoulder. “I suppose he will learn.”
Don’t cock this up, Hamilton. Tell her!
Needing more time, Gregory shoved a couple of fingers into his waistcoat pocket and then withdrew a red satin ribbon that had a tiny tin bell tied to the middle of it.
“This is for Isabella. I thought she might look fancy with it on.” He’d picked up the ribbon and the bell a few weeks ago, hoping against hope that he might run into Constance while in Mayfair.
When he hadn’t, he made a point to jam it into his waistcoat pocket each day.
It was absurd, of course, but he couldn’t help it. At least he’d given her the gift.
“Thank you. I’m sure she will feel like a queen once I put it around her neck.” As she gazed at the offering, tears welled in her eyes. When she raised her gaze to his again, her chin quivered, and he nearly went to his knees to beg her forgiveness. “Gregory, I…”
Desperate, he grabbed her free hand. “Conklin doesn’t deserve you, Constance.
He never will, and you are far too amazing to waste your life with him.
And…” With a hard swallow, he forced moisture into his suddenly dry throat.
Finding her gaze, he wanted nothing more than to tumble into those dark depths and lose himself.
“I should have told you this that horrible night when we parted.”
She nodded. “What is it?”
The corridor was now mostly empty, which meant the play would start imminently.
Sweat rolled down his back to paste his fine lawn shirt to his skin while his pulse pounded in his temples.
There would never be another chance for this.
“Right.” He held her hand a bit more tightly.
“I might as well go straight to the point, and that is this: I’m in love with you.
In fact, you have my heart and I think you always have since the night I rescued you from that attacker. ”
Dear God, I finally said it!
“Oh…” Her eyes were luminous with tears. “And?”
He frowned. “And what?” Had he missed something?
“While it is glorious to hear those most sacred words, what do you plan to do about that? Does it change anything for our future?”
Did it?
A sick feeling climbed hotly up his throat, and the urge to cast up his accounts grew strong. Did he have the courage and wherewithal to buck traditions and societal expectations? To put his whole living and reputation into jeopardy by asking the impossible?
In the end, he showed himself for a coward. Slowly, inexorably, he released her hand. “I have admitted to my feelings for you. Isn’t that enough?” This was a whole new world for him, and he was floundering in the sticky morass of it.
And failing. He suspected he would die there.
A tear fell to her cheek. “In a perfect world, yes, that would be enough, but you and I both know that it isn’t.
” Her bottom lip trembled. “We don’t live in a fairy tale, and while you are very much a hero, by merely saying the words, there has been no sacrifice made, so they ring empty.
I’m afraid there can never be a happy ending for us in that way. ”
There it was. His last chance. She was practically begging him to ask her to marry him. The pound of his heart sounded overly loud in his ears as heat rushed through his person. “Do you truly think I’m a hero?”
“If anyone in this world is, it’s you, and you have the potential to be so much more.” As she brushed at a tear on her cheek. “Do you have anything else to say to me? The play is starting…”
“I…” Say the words, you enormous fool! Yet they stalled on the edge of his tongue; he couldn’t utter them. Was he truly throwing their romance to perish on the altar of public opinion?
“Oh, Gregory.” Constance dashed at the moisture on her cheeks.
“You haven’t learned anything in the weeks we’ve been apart, have you?
” Disappointment threaded through her soft inquiry.
“For what it’s worth, I love you too, and because of that, I wish you well in whatever you decide for your life.
You deserve a wonderful, happy life, one where you don’t need to fight against your morals and beliefs. ”
Then, as he stared at her with a rush of emotions slamming into him like the incoming tide, she turned away from him, and seconds later, disappeared behind the red velvet curtain that led to Conklin’s box.
“She rejected me,” he whispered to himself as he stood there alone.
Well, to be fair, she hadn’t rejected anything because he’d never asked.
Because he was a damned fool. Despite the fact his heart shattered anew and the shock of hearing that she also loved him held him captive, he was like a man who had been shot and didn’t know he needed to fall.
He deserved to either be alone for the rest of his life or marry a chit he would never love, all because he was afraid of what gossip would do to his life. And hers. Was love more powerful than that? Did he want it to be?
What am I supposed to do now?