Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Following her escape attempt, Eliza returned to her chamber and her recent practice of studiously ignoring her mother’s attempts to speak to her and admitting no one but Sophie.
The morning after, Eliza had relayed Bash’s speech to Sophie, expecting firm support. Instead, Sophie gnawed on her lip.
“Lizzie… he has a point. I’ve been certain that Lord Sinclair would sort everything and come for you. But it has been a week, and we’ve heard nothing from him. What if Papa is right and whatever he’s done really is unforgivable?”
Eliza’s heart instinctively rejected the notion. “A week is not so long.”
“I’m certain you’re right.” The hesitance in Sophie’s voice rankled Eliza. “Do you want to come downstairs? I’ve been helping Mama plan the masquerade. The process is more diverting than I expected—you could design the flower arrangements.”
“No, thank you.”
“Well, we’ll be downstairs if you change your mind.”
Eliza’s hope dwindled. With each passing day, the excuses she created for Benedict grew flimsier.
As such, she was eager to accept when May announced a visit from Rose.
While Eliza wasn’t fit for polite company, she was certainly fit enough for her cousin. She pulled the ties of her dressing gown tighter across her chest before sitting up in the bed.
When Rose’s dark curls and sea-blue eyes peered in from behind the door, a distressed tutting sound escaped her. She slipped inside, shutting the door behind her before striding across the room.
No sooner had Rose reached the bed than she enveloped Eliza in her arms. The warm embrace melted the tension from Eliza’s shoulders. When Rose pulled away minutes later, Eliza felt calmer, more at ease for the affection.
“I am so sorry,” Rose signed after she sat on the bed. “I wanted this for you almost as much as you wanted it yourself.”
“I want it for you too—someone to whisk you away from the wall and onto the dance floor.”
Rose shook her head, brushing away the sentiment as she always did when the subject of her future was raised. “How are you? Truly?”
Eliza hardly knew herself. “I… I just wish I understood. That someone would explain it to me. I cannot… He would not leave. He was… We were…”
Rose caught her lower lip between her teeth, worrying it for a moment before meeting her gaze. “I saw our mamas talking yesterday. They didn’t see me. I-I know why. But, Lizzie… I think your papa may be right.”
“What?” Eliza demanded aloud, incredulity lacing the word.
Somehow, Rose sensed the disbelief, because she caught her lip between both teeth. “It may be better to remain ignorant,” she signed.
“You must tell me. You must! I cannot bear it.”
Rose swallowed before beginning. “Lord Sinclair’s father—he lost a great deal of money to your father years ago—twenty-eight years ago.
” She paused, waiting for Eliza to make the connection.
When clarity did not settle over her expression, Rose continued.
“The men your father won the money from to start the club with—the hundred thousand pounds… One of them was the Earl of Blackwood, Lord Sinclair’s father. ”
Each individual word made sense. But combined…
“No,” Eliza protested. “You must be mistaken.”
“I know what I saw, Lizzie. He— Your father believes Lord Sinclair was courting you in order to blackmail and humiliate him on behalf of his own father. Uncle Michael did not wish for you to know. He was trying to protect your feelings.”
“But he… No...” Eliza’s heart rebelled against the very notion even as the blurry image in her mind cleared. Benedict felt as she did; she had been certain of it. So certain.
“I’m so sorry, Lizzie. I know it was driving you to madness not knowing. But was I wrong to tell you?”
Rose’s revelation made perfect, horrifying sense. Benedict—Lord Sinclair—had singled her out so swiftly and with such determination. He had pursued her doggedly. Brief moments and phrases, the nonsensical vagaries he’d dropped…
Now she comprehended them perfectly.
Eliza had thought it impossible for her heart to shatter into smaller pieces, certain she had reached the depths of her devastation. But this… this was so much worse.
“Oh God… I…” Her breaths came too rapidly and with too little air. No matter how she panted, she was suffocating!
“I should not have— It was wrong. I’ve hurt you even more.” Rose signed rapidly, each word flowing into the next in a nearly incomprehensible ramble as Eliza’s eyes blurred with tears and she struggled to breathe.
“He didn’t… There was never… It was all a lie. He never cared for me. And I let him…”
“Lizzie?”
Eliza could only gasp. Followed by another, and a third. In fact, she found herself incapable of exhaling.
“Breathe,” Rose commanded aloud. “You need to breathe.” She grasped Eliza’s cheeks between her hands, forcing her cousin’s gaze to her own while she demonstrated the process.
Slowly, painfully slowly, she was able to bring sense back to Eliza.
“I’m such a fool,” Eliza whispered, her chest agonizingly tight as she forced the words out.
“You are not a fool,” Rose retorted, returning to the familiarity of using her hands to speak. “You were in love. There is nothing less foolish.”
“How could I have been? I never knew him at all,” Eliza replied with her fingers. “Everything we— Everything I— It was all a lie.”
“Because he deceived you. You are not at fault.”
“And to think, the way I’ve spoken to my parents…” Eliza continued, not acknowledging Rose’s words. “I’ve been a wretched, petty creature.”
“What do you need? How can I help?” Rose asked.
“I hardly know, myself.”
“Despite what we know, I cannot believe Lord Sinclair’s interest in you was entirely false. The way he looked at you during your dances… I’ve made a study of faces—he was enchanted.”
Eliza shook her head, unwilling to receive Rose’s platitudes. “I do not believe that—not with what I know now. No, he is merely the ton’s best actor.”
“Oh, Lizzie… Please, was I wrong to tell you?”
“No, no, I needed to know.” Eliza shook her head. The tears streamed down her face faster for the effort.
“Can I fetch you tea? Or a biscuit? Tell me how to help you,” Rose begged.
“I should like to rest,” Eliza said after a moment’s consideration. “Thank you.”
“If you’re certain…” Rose replied, her hands hesitant.
Eliza nodded, then turned to curl back up on her bed without another word. Her cousin’s steps echoed on the floor before the door creaked open. The click of the latch signaled her returned solitude.
Only then did Eliza allow the silent, burning tears to fall in earnest as she made herself a vow. These would be the last tears she ever cried over Benedict Sinclair—he hadn’t deserved the ones he’d already received, and he would get no more from her after today.
No man would.