Chapter 3 #2
John’s gaze held hers, and something shifted in his expression—a flash of the mischievous boy he’d once been, before grief and whatever else had dimmed his light.
“For what it’s worth,” he said, weighing the snowball in his hand, “I deserve far worse than this.”
Before she could respond, he drew back his arm and launched the snowball. She had only a second to react, turning slightly so that it struck her shoulder instead of her chest. The impact was surprisingly gentle—he’d clearly held back—but it was enough to send a shock through her system.
“You—” Maddie sputtered, brushing snow from her cloak. “How dare you!”
But instead of anger, she felt something else entirely—a surge of adrenaline, a rush of something almost like exhilaration. Without thinking, she bent down and gathered more snow, packing it quickly.
John’s eyes widened in surprise. “Maddie—”
She hurled the second snowball with more force than the first, and it caught him squarely in the chest. This time, he laughed—a rusty, uncertain sound, as if his voice had forgotten how. It tugged at all of her emotions.
For a heartbeat, they stared at each other, suspended between their painful past and this unexpected moment. Then John crouched down, gathering more snow.
“This means war, Lady Madeline,” he said, and before her was the man she had once loved—vibrant, playful, alive.
She had no time to dwell on it as she darted behind the fountain, gathering ammunition. “You’re outmatched, my lord,” she called back, surprising herself with the lightness in her voice.
John’s snowball sailed over the fountain, missing her by inches. “My aim was always superior to yours, if you recall.”
“And your memory was always selective,” she retorted, launching a volley of her own. It caught him on the arm as he twisted away.
They circled the fountain, trading snowballs and barbs that grew less cutting with each exchange. Maddie felt her anger shifting into something else—not forgiveness, not yet, but perhaps the faint possibility that they might someday speak without it hurting quite so much.
John ducked behind a hedge, and Maddie crept forward, snowball at the ready. When she reached the corner, he was gone. She turned, scanning the garden—and felt a soft impact against her back.
“Ambush,” he called from behind her, and she whirled to find him grinning. It was a pale shadow of his former smile, but it reached his eyes for the first time since she’d seen him again.
“Coward,” she shot back, but there was no venom in it.
She bent to gather more snow, but as she straightened, she saw his expression change.
The light faded from his eyes, and his shoulders seemed to slump again beneath that invisible weight.
Just as quickly as it had appeared, the moment of lightness was gone.
“Yes,” he said quietly, all his playfulness drifted away. “I am.”
The sudden shift in his demeanor startled her. She lowered her arm, allowing the snowball to fall from her hand. “John—”
Before she could finish, a sound came from the path and broke the moment entirely. Laughter from a group of guests reached their ears, and they would come upon them at any moment.
John looked at her and then down at his boots again. “Please, Maddie. I do want to make things right.” The words were quiet and urgent, an appeal to her that made her throat constrict with unexpected feelings.
“Perhaps some things cannot be fixed,” she said, sadness building within her.
She looked down the path where the laughter grew louder.
She gave him one last glance before she turned and walked back toward the house, desperately needing to escape.
As she departed, she watched him from the corner of her eye—still standing alone by the fountain, a solitary figure surrounded by snow.
For a brief moment, she wondered what demons haunted him, but she quickly pushed the thought aside. His struggles were no longer her concern.
Maddie hurried past the noise of the drawing room undetected and then ducked into the massive library. She quickly closed the door behind her, thankful that no one else had been inside. Her heart raced as she sank against the door, needing to recover from the encounter with John.
Her anger and hurt threatened to spill over into unshed tears. She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to collect herself before anyone might find her.
She pushed off the door and then selected a book from one of the shelves before retreating to a secluded corner.
Settling herself into a deep armchair, she willed herself to get lost in the words on the page instead of thinking about John.
But they blurred together, John’s face appearing in her mind and blocking out the text.
He seemed so different, not quite the man he was before Ryan died, but she could still see fragments of him there.
Not that any of it mattered. How could she ever trust him again? How could she allow herself to believe his apologies meant anything when he had hurt her so deeply? And even if she accepted him at his word, it changed nothing for their future.
She should avoid him at all costs and put the matter out of her mind entirely.
Louis was about somewhere, and he would surely come to her chamber if she wished it.
But somehow that notion made her sick to her stomach.
And she couldn’t help but wonder about what dalliances John had during their time apart.
Stop it, Maddie. She was being an idiot. She used to make herself physically ill in that first year after John had left, imagining the many women he surely brought to his bed. She wouldn’t allow herself to get sucked into such thoughts again.
“Maddie!” Rosina called out to her. “There you are.”
Maddie hadn’t even heard her enter the library.
And after John, Rosina might be next on her list of people she didn’t wish to speak with at present.
But given it was the woman’s house, and she adored her under normal circumstances, Maddie would have to endure her company.
She should have thought about that before she had allowed her mother to drag her to the house party to begin with.
“Rosina,” she replied, schooling her expression as she closed the book. “I hope I’m not missing anything too exciting. I thought the library might be a quieter place to read.”
The duchess crossed the room and sat on the settee across from Maddie. “And you thought perhaps you would avoid my brother?”
“I suppose there is little use pretending otherwise,” she confessed, trying to muster a smile.
“Has he spoken with you, then?” Rosina’s gaze was both sympathetic and searching.
Maddie sighed. She didn’t really want to get into the matter with Rosina. A fork to the eye might be better, but the duchess would only push harder if she resisted. “Yes.”
“And did it resolve anything?” Rosina asked gently, as if she already knew the answer.
Maddie shook her head. “I am only more confused.” She clutched the book to her chest, trying to hold herself together. “But one thing is certain . . . I cannot trust him. And I know he’s your brother, so you must forgive me for saying so, but—”
“I would never tell you what you should feel,” Rosina said quickly. “John wronged you. And only you can decide what you are willing to forgive.”
“I hate him for what he did,” Maddie said, needing to release some of what she felt, even if Rosina might not appreciate direct speak about her brother. “And I also don’t. He still appears so . . . broken.”
The duchess leaned back in her chair, her expression turning somber. “John and Ryan were quite close. More like brothers. There are days that the grief still hits me all over again.”
Maddie eyed the duchess curiously, wondering what that meant for the duchess’ marriage. “I see.”
“Not that it means I love James any less,” Rosina said, as if she’d read Maddie’s thoughts. “It’s not that I miss Ry as my husband, but I miss him as my dearest friend. That is what it is like for John. We lost John as well, in a way.”
“I hope you get him back,” Maddie said softly. “Your brother, I mean.”
Rosina gave her a small smile. “I hope so, too. I think I’m coming to understand why he left. And I hope you do as well.”
Maddie flinched. “I . . . I don’t . . .” She wasn’t even certain what to say in response.
“Forgiveness is often a step toward healing,” Rosina said. “I wouldn’t push you to take him back or do something you didn’t wish to do. But I can see how conflicted you are, and you don’t want to carry this with you for the rest of your life.”
Maddie listened, her heart heavy and confused.
She did not know if she was ready for forgiveness.
Certainly not for reconciliation. Nor for the possibility of seeing John as anything other than the man who had broken her heart.
But Rosina’s words unsettled something within her, leaving her feeling more vulnerable and more uncertain than before.
“But you think I should give him a chance?” Maddie stated. She looked at Rosina and only found compassion in her expression.
“I think,” Rosina replied, “that you should decide what it is you want. Whether it is merely closure, answers . . . a new beginning. Whatever it is, only you can say.”
The duchess rose and departed the library without another word. Maddie knew she would be expected to attend luncheon at any moment, but there wasn’t a chance she could eat. Hurrying from the library, she sought her chamber as her mind churned.
She needed to be alone. She needed to make sense of everything that had happened. That confusing experience with John and all that Rosina had said.
Maddie had almost reached the guest wing when she came upon Louis in the hallway. His expression was knowing. He’d listened to her rant and cry over the years, so he knew exactly what John’s presence would mean for her.
He waited patiently, his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze softening as she approached.
“Maddie,” he said, with a note of concern in his voice. “Are you all right?”
Tears welled in the corners of her eyes, and he opened his arms to her. She fell into his chest, sobbing into his coat.
Louis closed his arms around her and just let her cry.
After a few minutes, he whispered to her. “You know I am here for you.”
She sniffed and drew a deep breath, regaining control over herself.
Her feelings were so intense, almost as overwhelming as the day she’d learned John had left.
“I know,” she said, pulling back and wiping her eyes.
“You always have been. I’ll be fine, I promise.
It’s just all been a shock. I am certain that in time . . .”
“If you are in need of a distraction, Maddie,” he said with a sheepish expression. “I have no quarrels with being used in such a fashion. We both know how it’s always been.”
His meaning was clear. They’d used each other to avoid dealing with their emotions for quite some time.
And in that moment, she saw that situation with greater clarity.
As tempting as it was to chase a release by someone else’s hand, nothing about letting Louis into her bed would resolve her issues with John.
Rosina had been right about one thing: she needed closure.
And she couldn’t get that with her best friend on top of her, while they each thought about other people.
“I can’t, Louis,” she said, the words heavy on her tongue. “Not right now.”
“Because you are considering forgiving him?”
The question cut deeper than she expected. “No,” she insisted, the denial more for herself than for him. “I want nothing to do with Lord Ravensworth. I hate him for what he’s done.” Her voice wavered, betraying the residual affection for the man she tried to hide.
He studied her for a long moment, his eyes both skeptical and compassionate. “I am not so sure,” he said, his tone never losing its gentleness.
She bit her lip, hating the doubt she heard and the uncertainty she felt. “Louis, please. I just need some time to think.”
She knew he would not push further, but she sensed the frustration beneath his composure. It was only out of concern that John would hurt her again.
“I don’t know what I feel right now,” she confessed. “I thought I did, but everything is different. And I . . . we . . . can’t carry on as we have been while I sort it out.”
He nodded in understanding. “If you change your mind . . .”
“I know where to find you,” Maddie said, rolling her eyes at him before flashing him a grin.
He patted her on the shoulder, and then she watched him walk away.
For a moment, she regretted her choice. Why did she have to pick this moment to be mature about the situation when she could have her best friend’s head between her thighs instead?
She clearly couldn’t be trusted to make sound decisions.
Yet as she entered her chamber and closed the door behind her, her thoughts drifted back to John standing alone in the garden.
The way the light had briefly returned to his eyes when she’d thrown the snowball, before being extinguished like a candle in a draft.
The shadows beneath his eyes as if he had hardly slept.
What demons haunted the Earl of Ravensworth? And why did she still care?