“I think I fell in love with you even when I thought you were an unredeemable rake. Then I got to know the man you are…and I admire you most ardently. I love you, Nicolas…and…and I suspect you hold me in your sincere affections as well. Please do not walk away. If we have the same feelings for each other, we must find a way to work it out.”
There was so much more she wanted to say, but the hopes beating against her chest warned her to tread carefully. His contemplative silence hurt. She squeezed him even tighter. “My heart is laid upon the ground. Please do not step on it,” she whispered achingly.
He gripped her hands encircling his waist and pried them away. A part of her expected him to turn then and give her an answer, and she tried to brace her heart for his rejection.
But Nicolas did neither. He simply continued walking away and toward the exit of the gambling den.
The degree of her loss was incalculable. In him she had found the man she loved and respected. A man she could see herself growing old with, a man she saw walking by her side for as long as God would allow it, in this life and the next. She stood watching him, hands hugged around her middle, her heart a shredded mess until he disappeared from sight.
“If the marquess loves you as you clearly love him, he would not have walked away,” a soft voice said behind her.
Turning around, she stared at her brother. She could not reconcile that the boy she loved so much growing up, the man she admired now, was guilty of the crime he was accused. Maryann had been so sure of his inherent goodness. “You lied to me.”
He grimaced. “I can explain.”
“Would it excuse that you did?”
They stared at each other. “You watched as your friends reduced a young girl to such pain, she took her life. If that girl had been me…you would have fought them tooth and nail to save me even at the peril to your own life.”
His jaw visibly clenched. “You are my sister.”
She flinched.
She was an ant to them, and perhaps that was giving her too much significance.
He took a tentative step toward her. “There may be a way to fix this so that…so that you and he might work.”
Her sigh left her on a shaky breath. “The marquess is not a man to go back on his word.” Except just now. Oh God, because of her he had betrayed everything that shaped him to become the person he was today. Tears pooled once more, and she furiously swiped them away.
Her brother looked off in the distance. He was nervous it seemed, and more than a little worried.
“Crispin, what is it?”
He grimaced. “She is not dead.”
“Who…” Her voice came as a hoarse croak. “Who is not dead?”
“Her.” He closed his eyes as if pained. “I never suspected anyone would be looking for her.”
Maryann’s heartbeat was an awful roar in her head. “Crispin!”
He lifted a blurry gaze to her, touching the nick at his throat which came away with blood. He swayed, the import of what had just happened hitting him hard. “Arianna…she did not drown. I did not leave when they did, for I was disgusted with them and myself. That day shattered the bonds of friendship I had been so certain of. I wanted to help her, though I was not sure how to. We had all been drinking and carousing, but it was no excuse! I was so damn afraid they would turn on me, I just froze, Maryann.”
Profound shame coated his voice, and he could not meet her regard. “I watched when she left and gave a lad a letter, then made her way to the river. I followed her and when she jumped, I dived in behind her. I saved her and took her away from there.”
Something inside of Maryann shattered. “Arianna is alive?”
“Yes.”
“We must tell Nicolas right away!” she cried, pressing a hand to her chest.
“Wait…I gave her my promise I would never betray her location or her new identity. I betrayed her once; I cannot do it again.”
“Even from him?” she cried, anger brewing in her heart. “The man who has been tirelessly waging a campaign of retribution in her name?”
“Miss Arianna does not know that!” Crispin swallowed. “Let me take you to her…and then you can make a decision