Elmwood #3
“What was it about me that captured your heart, Lady Isobel? When you met me, I was drunk and grieving a man I mostly hated, and I can’t understand what appeal I held for a bright young lady like you.”
She gave the horse another pat on the nose.
“We did not first meet at your father’s funeral. I see now that you don’t remember—it never occurred to me that you would not, as it was such a memorable day for me. We met at Elmhouse when I was a child. You Charmed a case of dead butterflies to cheer me.”
He drew back, startled by the revelation. He remembered that day very clearly, though the little girl who had inspired him to make use of his Charm was a ghostly, faceless figure in his recollection, serving only as the introduction to the events that had stuck in his mind.
“That was you?” he asked.
“It was. I was entranced by the miracle of the butterflies, but it was you and your gentle kindness that won my heart. I carried it with me for all the years that have passed since then.”
Elmwood shook his head.
“I carried that day with me as well, but I’m afraid that for me, it was not a happy memory.
My father discovered the missing butterflies and ferreted out what I had done.
He cut off my allowance for the rest of the year and cracked my jaw so hard that I couldn’t chew properly for weeks afterward.
I’m afraid that any pleasure I took in your company was overshadowed. ”
It was far from the first time he had regretted using his Charm, but the consequences had been especially vivid.
He’d lost almost twenty pounds while his jaw was healing and stayed up late most nights gambling to make his savings stretch the duration of his punishment, which meant he spent his second year at the university lurking at the back of classrooms, napping like an exhausted bag of bones.
The reputation he had developed for being a lazy wastrel that year had clung to him for the short remainder of his academic career.
Lady Isobel finally turned back to face him.
“I…I could have loved you enough for the both of us.”
“You deserve far better than that. I am not the Lord Elmwood that you imagined,” he said, as gently as he could.
“But the version of him that you loved is not lost to you. That person existed inside of your mind and heart, and so is a part of you. No mistakes of mine can take away whatever comfort or joy you found in that.”
Her mouth tightened. “Tell me, what version of Lord Elmwood exists for Lady Croft?”
He sighed, sensing that he had bungled this, too, somehow. “I know you were hurt by stumbling upon us, but what you witnessed was not the beginning of a life together.”
“So you plan to abandon her as well?”
He drew back, stricken.
“No, no. I do not…” He fumbled, trying to think what he could say that might help, and in the end landed on the truth.
“I am going to tell you something, Lady Isobel, because I owe you an explanation, and this will be my last opportunity to give it to you. But you must promise not to tell Winthrop while you are traveling home.”
“Why would I promise you anything?”
“Please, Lady Isobel. I would very much like to offer you this truth.”
She pouted then, and it made her look more like herself. That lightened his heart a little. She was young, and her spirits would recover from this. He was certain of it.
“Fine, I promise,” she said. “Now, what is it?”
“I have decided that the only way I can atone for my many mistakes is to take responsibility for them fully. I am planning to turn myself in to face my banishment.”
She gaped at him. “That is madness! Mr. Winthrop told me what will happen if you’re caught. He told me they will take you to the border with Relance, and once you cross it, the Relancians will capture and execute you!”
“I have made my peace with it, Lady Isobel. It is for the best. I am weary of hiding from the consequences of my actions. I understand that your reputation may suffer somewhat in the wake of this, which I regret deeply, but I am certain that you can work the situation to your advantage, especially with your terrifying auntie’s help.
No one can expect you to marry a dead man, after all. ”
She shook her head slowly. “I cannot believe that you are choosing to burn alive on a Relancian pyre over marrying me. That is quite possibly the worst thing that I can imagine!”
“You must understand that my decision is not a reflection of you.”
“Does Lady Croft know you intend to do this?”
He stiffened. He should have made her promise not to tell anyone, not just Winthrop!
“It’s a bit complicated. I can’t tell her yet, but I will. I will tell her.”
Lady Isobel shook her head again, her cheeks flushed. “If you’re determined to do this, then I suppose you’d better go and do it, and ensure that no other ladies will ever make the mistake of entrusting you with their hearts!”
She marched to the doorway, then stopped and turned her head so that he could see the profile of her face.
“I would have loved you always, Erol. Now that love will die with you. I hope the pyre burns slowly, so that you have lots of time to think about what a fool you are.”
Then she fled, leaving behind only the faint scent of roses and the sting of his regrets.