“Tonight,” she said, “we go to her tonight. We have not a moment to lose.”
Crispin nodded, and soon after they were in his carriage traveling south. A myriad of conflicting emotions and thoughts darted through Maryann, the predominant being a chilling shock.
“Once he sees that she lives, he might forgive my inaction and understand me a bit better,” Crispin said, his eyes dark with guilt and another emotion she could not identify. “It will also give you and the marquess a chance—”
“There is no chance for us,” she said, lowering the carriage curtains to stare at him. “Once he knows Miss Arianna is alive, there is no chance for us.” And she desperately wanted to curl into a ball and weep.
“He loves her,” Crispin said flatly.
“Yes, very much.”
It was his turn to shift the curtain and peer through the windows.
A shock of realization went through her. “Do you love her, Crispin?”
“That does not matter.”
“Why not?”
“Because she is still in love with him, even after not seeing him for ten long years.”
Maryann could not speak, and she had to squeeze her fingers to prevent their trembling.
“You do not have to tell him,” he said quietly.
She snapped her head up, aghast. “Surely I heard wrong.”
“If you tell him, you will lose him with absolute certainty. He will want to be with her, and she will want to be with him.”
Maryann had arrived at the same conclusion, but now stared at her brother, wondering who this selfish creature before her was. “I would never hurt him in such a manner. If he chooses to be with me, it must be because he is just as hopelessly in love with me, not because I hid his other choice.”
Her brother gave her a pitying glance, and she gripped the edge of the seat, fighting with the useless hope lingering inside. Nicolas had walked away just now with a vow to never see her again. At their next encounter she might reunite him with a girl he had truly loved and grieved…a woman who now seemed to love him still.
There is no us nor will there ever be.
Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against the squabs, hating that silent tears coursed down her cheeks and that the pain in her heart grew with every clip-clop of the horses as the carriage took them closer to Nicolas’s beloved.
…
A few hours of silence lingered in the carriage. They did not speak again until the carriage had arrived at their destination. The coach swayed over a rough patch of the ground, and the moonlight peeking through the parted carriage windows revealed Crispin wore an expression of anxiety.
“We’ve arrived,” he said tightly.
The carriage came to a shuddering halt and the steps were knocked down. He quickly descended and aided Maryann in her descent. A charming, picturesque house rose before her, the many lit rooms appearing warm and inviting from the outside. “She lives here, alone?”
He hesitated for a moment. “Yes, with her daughter.”
Maryann glanced at him, understanding his sudden discomfort. “Do you think so little of my character, that I would judge her for it? Is that why you never told me even as I grew older?”
He sighed and gruffly admitted, “I knew better, but the entire situation was just unexpected. I bought it some years ago and she made it her home. At first, she did not want it, thinking it too grand and far above her station. I told her the child she carried deserved to be cherished, and she relented.”
“It is lovely,” she said, faintly surprised. Maryann wasn’t sure what she had expected when she set out with her brother. “Do you have a mistress?”
His head swiveled around. “What? No.”
So, this was the home Nicolas’s investigators had uncovered. The cruel irony pushed a jagged laugh from her throat. It would have only been information on paper; if he had just seen who actually lived here, possibly Maryann might not have known him at all.
They hurried up the front door, and before he knocked, the door was opened by a butler.
“Welcome back, Lord Crispin,” he said, reaching out to take their coats, hats, and bonnets.
A lump grew in Maryann’s throat. Her brother seemed to enjoy another life of which she was completely ignorant. He walked with confidence down the long hallway and opened the first door which led into a large and tastefully decorated parlor. A lady who had been reading from a book and laughing with a child lifted her eyes. Joy lit in her