Chapter 9
He didn’t understand?
Surely it wasn’t that hard? He had intentions.
A purpose. This business he mentioned, and yet, he offered no further explanation.
Of course he wouldn’t. And why should he.
She was nothing to him. Meant nothing to him.
The meaning of all their moments was an exchange for him.
Nothing else. Her heart hurt in a way it hadn’t hurt in all the seasons before this one.
Disappointment reigned supreme. Which was even more confusing since she hadn’t expected anything from this man.
Had she been determined to never see him again?
He had always been the one who approached her. So why did she have to be the one that felt like a fool? Why did she have to feel like she’d done wrong? Why did she, despite everything that happened, still find the man more endearing than annoying?
How did she even respond to his I don’t know, either?
Elowyn sighed. “Well, we owe each other nothing, now. Can we agree on that?” She selfishly didn’t mention his jacket.
He stared at her for a moment, and it looked like he wanted to say something, but in the end, he only inclined his head.
Hah.
“So, then, let us part on good terms.” You insufferable, barbarian, haxcomb. She would not cry. She would not shed a single tear. He had not broken her heart. She’d have to have fallen for him for that to happen.
She was not broken-hearted.
“The best of terms,” he said gruffly.
So be it then.
She gave him one last look—cool, she hoped, perhaps slightly wounded if her heart was any indication, and far braver than she felt—before turning on her heel with all the dignity she could muster.
The throb in her breast was nothing at all.
Nothing he could have caused. Nothing she could not overcome.
The root of the tree caught her before she had taken three steps.
A startled cry escaped her as she pitched forward, only to be caught at once by strong arms circling her waist and hauling her against a solid wall of warmth.
Elowyn inhaled sharply. His hands were firm at her sides, his chest unyielding beneath her palms. Their eyes met, and for a moment, she understood how poets claimed the world stopped when meeting the person of their dreams, because for a moment, her world stopped.
And then the world crashed into her again in the most disastrous fashion.
Gasps erupted all around them, followed by the sharp hiss of whispers, and Elowyn’s stomach dropped even as her face burned. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, she knew, even as she turned her head to the sounds, any and all future seasons were ruined.
This was the end.
The final season where she had had the possibility of fulfilling her dreams.
A group of six or seven people stood staring at her and Mandeville.
And the center of them, an extremely furious Lady Gabrielle, her face almost purple with anger.
She pointed an affronted finger at Elowyn, spluttering, “So, this was the reason for your deception,” the woman outright accused.
“You wanted Mandeville all to yourself!”
Elowyn’s heart sank, and she scrambled from Mandeville’s arms then, nearly tripping over her own skirts in her haste to put distance between them. Her cheeks burned; every eye on her felt like a curse.
Of course.
Of all the ways to end her season, this was the most mortifying way yet.
***
The moment the wildflower slipped from Julien’s arms, something in him went cold.
Empty. As if she’d taken the only warmth he hadn’t known he was holding onto.
His temper, never of a long fuse, was now burning hotter than molten earth thanks to Dansbury’s niece.
He had no doubt this woman gathered her gaggle when she spotted him and Elowyn and had followed them.
But enough was enough. He would make this clear today, even if he damn well suffered for it later.
“Deception?” he growled. “You accuse the lady of deception, madam, when it was your own scheme to trap me into marriage which dragged an innocent into your messy affairs. I’d mind that finger of yours, were I you, lest you find it cut off.”
The woman snatched her hand back, face going from red to white. “I-I have no idea what you are talking about! How dare you threaten me?”
“I dare a great deal.” He stepped forward, and the small crowd flinched back as one.
“I find myself wondering, in fact, whether your entire family’s business, Dansbury’s business in particular, even your own mother’s, would survive the sort of scrutiny I could bring down on them by day’s end. Shall we discover the answer together?”
Silence.
His gaze swept over the whole crowd. “In fact, I’m getting more curious by the second, about each and every one who claims a connection to you. And their families. And the family of their families.” And if they dare utter Elowyn’s name on their lips . . . God help them all.
“Mandeville!” the woman exclaimed. “You forget yourself!”
He laughed at that, a cold, hard laugh. “I’ve never forgotten myself, woman. It’s because I remember myself that I can tell you frankly, you’ve forgotten yourself. Did you really believe I’d ever allow a woman such as yourself to hold the title of my Duchess?”
“Mandeville . . .”
Shivers erupted all over his body at the soft voice, but he couldn’t rein in his temper.
More people were gathering, but that didn’t deter him either.
He wanted this woman to disappear from his life.
Elowyn’s life. “Since you wish to speak of deception, let us speak plainly, then, of a woman who lures a duke into an empty drawing room, uninvited and unchaperoned, pawing at him, and then crying how he touched her when her plan to trap him fails. I wonder, madam, how many others you’ve tried to entrap unsuccessfully.
” His gaze swept the crowd once. “Draw your own conclusions as to her morals. I’ve already drawn mine. ”
Wrath, who arrived to hear that last part, stepped forward. “Mandeville. That’s enough.”
He nodded. “As for Lady Elowyn and myself, the lady stumbled over a root and I caught her. That’s all.”
He should walk away now. This was the perfect time.
His feet did not move.
Julien could feel her behind him, and if he turned, he would see her face. Her beautiful heart-shaped face with big, bright, innocent blue eyes.
Turn around.
He couldn’t. He couldn’t do it.
Say something to her. Anything.
Claim her.
He forced himself to turn his head, but his chin refused to move past his shoulder. He couldn’t meet her gaze.
He couldn’t do all the things he wanted to do because that would mean bringing her into his life.
A life consumed by anger and the need for revenge.
If she were inclined to accept him, she might demand he change his ways if she learned the truth.
Demand he stop. Someone as pure and innocent as his wildflower might even grow to loathe him.
No, he couldn’t do it.
Julien shook off the longing and strode to Wrath, nodded once and left the crowd behind without a backward glance, each damn step an act of violence against the part of him that wanted to stay.
He couldn’t give up his plans.
Not for her.
Not for anything.