Chapter Twenty-One
Later that night
Rufus landed with a thud on his backside and sat on the floor of his library looking up at Will. “Feel better for getting that out of your system?” He worked his jaw, checking that it wasn’t broken. “Your time in France has packed on more muscle than you had before you left.”
“That’s what happens when one must depend on one’s muscles and wits to stay alive.”
“Well, your muscles are definitely better. Can’t say the same for your wits.”
“What do you mean? Are you going to get up anytime today?”
“Depends. Are you going to try and hit me again?”
“I’m thinking about it. Probably.”
Rufus leaned back on his elbow. “In that case, I’ll stay down here. No point in getting up when you only intend to put me back in the same position.”
“Coward!”
“Just being practical.”
“Do you love her?” The question burst from him. The more he thought about Clem and Rufus together, the hotter his anger burned. If Clem loved Rufus, if her affections had truly shifted from him, then Will would—he must—let her go.
Loving Clem, all he wanted was her happiness.
No. What he wanted was to be the man who made her happy.
Anger bubbled up inside, a potent blend when mixed with the brandy he’d consumed. “Well? Do you love her?”
“Who?”
“If you have to ask that question, then I really will punch you again.”
“The answer is no.”
Will stared at Rufus in disbelief. “You’re going to marry Clem, and you’re telling me you aren’t in love with her? How is that possible?”
“Happens every day in our world.”
“But Clem’s in love with you.” The thought that Clem had found a decent man to love was the only thing keeping him sane.
It would crush him to see her with Rufus, but there really was no better man for her—if she no longer loved him.
He held out a hand to help Rufus up. “It’s the only reason I won’t hit you again. If Clem has chosen you, then—”
Rufus eyed the hand Will extended. “You mean if Clem doesn’t love me, then you’ll hit me again? Damn it, I’m staying down here. Bring that bottle of brandy over. And a glass. Two, if you want to join me.”
What the hell was he going on about?
Will could feel his brow furrowing and his temper rising. His head ached, and his arm ached too, but it had ached for weeks now, and he tended to ignore that ache. It was nothing compared with the heaviness in his heart.
“Did you hit your head when you took that bullet to your arm? I’ve never seen you more mutton-headed than now.”
Will pulled off his sling and dropped it. “Get up off that floor and face me like a man, Rufus. Tell me to my face that Clem loves you, or I’ll—”
Rufus sighed, rolled onto his left knee, and pushed up off the floor. “Looks like I’ll have to get my own brandy. For God’s sake, Will, sit down and calm that temper of yours. I don’t know why Clem is in love with such a buffleheaded idiot, but she is, and that’s all there is to it.”
Will sat, or rather sank, onto the nearest chair and stared at Rufus.
“Either I’ve imbibed too much brandy or I’ve forgotten how to speak English, but I don’t understand.
Lavinia told me Clem’s mother said Clem’s engagement is being announced in the paper tomorrow and at some ball in a couple of weeks.
To you. And I saw you together in the park on the bench that—”
“Ah, yes. Well, you see . . .” Rufus pressed a glass of brandy into Will’s hand and tapped his glass against it.
“About that. Clem and I have an understanding. If her parents pressured her into accepting a suitor while you were—away . . .” Rufus sipped his brandy and smacked his lips. “Good drop. Where was I?”
Will couldn’t prevent the dangerous tone from leaching into his voice. “You and Clem have an understanding. That doesn’t sound like she’s in love with me.”
“Her being in love with you is precisely why we have an understanding. Not long after you left, I engineered an introduction to Clem at Monteith’s ball.
She’d already twigged at Lavinia’s do that we were friends.
I knew you’d never choose a foolish woman for your wife, but Clem surprised me with how astute she is. ”
“She is, isn’t she?” Will couldn’t keep his pride from his voice.
“When I saw how it was with her, I offered to—shall we say, I volunteered to assist her to keep the wolves at bay. I also offered to stand in for you should the need arise, by which I mean if her parents insisted on a wedding. The need arose, and we now find ourselves about to tell the world of our impending nuptials. Except here you are.” Rufus gestured at Will with his glass, sipped, and sat down opposite him.
“Congratulations, my friend. Oh, and I look forward to standing by your side in church when she walks down that aisle.” Rufus stuck out his hand and grabbed Will’s, pumping it extra hard.
“You’re her fiancé, but I’m marrying her?” Will looked at the brandy in his hand, shook his head and then tossed back the contents of the glass.
“It will all work out, my friend, but can you not pay a visit to her home just yet? I need to set a few things in motion. Trust me. Now, do you have suitable attire for Lavinia’s ball? Those muscles you’ve built won’t fit the evening clothes I last saw you wearing.”
Hyde Park, the following day
Why did Rufus ask me to meet him here?
Clem sat waiting for him on the bench by the lake in Hyde Park, where she used to wait for Will.
She tipped her face to the sun and closed her eyes.
Knowing it was a special place to her and Will, Rufus had thoughtfully avoided it when they walked or rode through the park until their last visit.
And he’d chosen to meet here today, and his choice, though odd, mattered little.
After today, she would never visit this spot again. The memories hurt too much.
Sonorous notes sounded from one of the nearby churches, preceding the chimes.
Counting them, Clem opened her eyes and sat erect. Rufus would be here any moment because he was never late.
He was a fine, dear, decent friend, and now he was going to do the incredibly noble thing and marry her.
Except she wouldn’t allow him to sacrifice his chance of finding a woman who would love him for himself. A woman who still had a heart to give, and who would give it freely to him.
He deserved better than her.
The announcement of their betrothal had appeared in today’s paper.
He had been unable to persuade her father to wait, so now, she was going to set him free.
There would be a heavy social cost to her, and her parents would be most displeased, but it was wrong to accept his noble gesture for her sole benefit.
As footsteps crunched on the gravel beside her, she steeled herself to meet his gaze and deliver the news that she was withdrawing from their agreement. Withdrawing and turning herself into a social pariah for pulling out of an eminently suitable betrothal. “Good afternoon, Rufus. I—”
“Hello, Clem. It’s been a long time.”
Will!
The vision before her wavered. Breath wouldn’t come. The park and the lake and the whole world faded from view, and she saw only Will.
He filled her vision.
He was standing right there in front of her, as full of life and vigor as ever he was . . .
Her world turned dark.
“Clem, wake up. Oh God, I didn’t mean to scare you. Please, Clem . . .”
Her hand was being patted, and her head was at a funny angle.
Was that metal beneath her neck the side rail of the bench?
How had she ended up in such an unacceptable position?
She needed to open her eyes, needed to escape the strange dream in which Will had returned to her, seamlessly fitting into the image that should have been—must be—Rufus come to meet her.
But the voice wasn’t Rufus’s, and the hands holding hers were rough, nothing like the hands of her fiancé. His hands were smooth; these felt like a workman’s hands, but the voice—
“Come on, Clem, open your eyes.”
The voice was pure heaven.
“Will?” Peeping through a slit framed by her eyelashes, she looked up into his eyes, his dear face, and joy filled her. “You’ve come home.”
He smiled at her. His smile was just as she remembered it. His face was leaner, though, and his cheeks more sharply sculpted. And there were crinkles around his eyes when his smile grew wider as he gazed into her eyes.
“Rufus told me you’d be here.”
“Rufus told you . . .” The name of her dear friend on the lips of her beloved recalled her to the present moment in which the man she loved was not the man to whom she was now publicly engaged.
Within a heartbeat, the joy she’d thought was hers collapsed around her. She struggled against his grip and sat up, setting her feet back on solid earth. “You’re too late, Will. It’s done.”
“What’s done, my love?”
“I’m engaged to Rufus.” Cringing at her overly dramatic tone and the slur it cast on a good and fine man, still, she couldn’t offer even a semblance of joy about her forthcoming nuptials.
Once, at a play in Drury Lane, she had mocked just such tragic tones in an actress’s delivery of her lines.
But now she realized the tone hadn’t been overdone.
How could any amount of sadness ever be too much when the love of her life could never be hers?
Unexpectedly, Will smiled. “I know.”
“How can you sit there and smile? Did you not hear me? I said—”
“I heard. Rufus told me.”
“So you know I cannot marry you. I waited, Will. For so long, I resisted Papa’s entreaties to select a husband.
And now the war is over—again—Papa refuses to let me wait anymore.
He demanded that Rufus announce our engagement today with a public presentation at Lavinia’s ball.
If we didn’t agree to it, he said he would accept one of the other offers for my hand and announce it himself.
“Oh, Will, Rufus was only trying to help me to wait for you, but now . . .” Her voice caught on a sob.
“He did an excellent job, my love.”
She looked at him askance. “How can you say so? After all that, we failed. The announcement has already been published in the papers.”
“It’s not a Shakespearean tragedy, Clem. What’s done can be undone, although it will be difficult to be sure.”
“Undone? Of course! I’ll retract my acceptance and retire quietly to our country home. There will be a huge scandal, of course. It’s not every day an earl is jilted. But we cannot—”
He set a finger against her lips. “It will come out right in the end. Do you trust me, Clem?”
“I don’t see how you can—” His finger pressed gently against her lips again, cutting off her denial.
“Trust me, please?”
Being engaged to be married to another man—to Will’s, and now her dearest friend—rendered the chance of any choice impossible. The announcement was there in black and white print for all the world to see . . .
Lord Rufus Marsden to Lady Clementine Basingthwaite.
And yet . . .
Looking into Will’s eyes, listening to the sincerity in his voice—willing that hope could come true with every fiber of her being—Clem found it impossible not to believe him.
She nodded. “I trust you, Will.”
He squeezed her hand. “This is what I need you to do. Continue with your engagement for now, be seen at events alongside Rufus, just . . .” He tamped down a burst of jealousy that he could not be the one by her side. Not yet.
“Just what, my love?”
“Just don’t look at him like you’re looking at me right now. I couldn’t bear it.”
“How am I looking at you?”
“Like you love me.” His heart thumped harder, and it was all he could do not to take her in his arms and damn the public outcry.
“No other man will ever see that look. It belongs to you alone.”
“Clem.”
“And now I think we must say goodbye. It’s the last thing I want to do, but we will draw attention if you sit by my side a moment longer. See, even my maid is casting anxious glances our way.”
Immediately, Will stood and tipped his hat, before his lovesick heart placed Clem in an untenable position. Aloud, he said, “It is wonderful to see you again after my American voyage. My sincere congratulations on your upcoming nuptials, Lady Clementine.”
Exerting every ounce of self-discipline he had, he turned and walked down the path to the southeastern gate, his gaze focused but blind as he forced himself not to look back at the woman who held his heart.