Chapter 24 - Michael
Well, that was that, then.
Michael placed his hat and coat on the hooks in his front hall carefully, though he longed to throw them upon the ground instead. Michael longed to tear down his house with his very fingers.
He should never have kissed her. The look Claire had given him after, as if she didn’t know him, as if she never had, as if she’d never look at him the same way again.
He had felt it too, that he’d ruined everything. Something good had been happening between them. Some real foundation was being built—something that could have supported love for the rest of their lives.
He shook his head and stared at the tips of his boots. The worst of it was, he hadn’t even been overcome with passion. No—it was anger and foolish, injured pride that had driven him to kiss her.
Well, it wasn’t just those things. There was definitely a good amount of passion and love involved too—at least on his end. But that hardly excused him. Michael had gone and ruined everything. He’d mauled her like some great beast.
He’d proven to her everything she’d ever thought about rakes, about him. How was he ever going to look her in the eye again? The fact that he’d lost her, that they’d never laugh together as they once had, gripped his heart in a fist and squeezed until he felt as if he couldn’t breathe.
What would he tell his mother? What would he tell Sylvia? They would want to know what had happened. How was he to explain that he had acted like a brute, taken Claire in his arms when he knew she didn’t want it, and kissed her thoroughly anyway?
He was no better than that blackguard Lord Nelson. Michael pressed a fist to his mouth to suppress the sudden urge to vomit. Once it passed, he slapped a hand over his eyes, pressing at his temples and wincing.
He had gone against everything he believed. He had ruined everything.