was there, and I believed it, too. Please do not be so hard on yourself, Arianna.”
She looked at him with wide, wounded eyes. “Will he forgive me for doubting him?”
Crispin fell silent, but Maryann stood. “He will. The marquess will be overjoyed that you are alive and well. You must return with us to town immediately. There can be no delay in informing him of the news.”
Arianna stood. “Please remain here as my guest for the night, and then tomorrow we could go to see him.”
How excited and scared she seemed.
“I accept your offer and thank you. I would that a letter be sent to our parents immediately. Do you have a footman it could be entrusted with?”
Miss Arianna’s hand fluttered to her throat. “I…I do not wish to see him alone,” she said, looking embarrassed. “I do not have the courage to face him and…and…”
“I will go with you,” Maryann said, wondering how she would bear to witness their loving reunion.
“How will we…will we call upon his house? Will he be there? Is it…is it better that we meet at a public place?”
Her nervousness was heartbreaking.
“He would never hurt you,” Maryann gently assured her.
“He might shout,” Arianna said, folding her arms at her front in a protective gesture. “It is unlikely if we are in public he will shout or be too disappointed in my conduct.”
“He would find nothing to reproach in your behavior. Lord Rothbury will only be exceedingly glad that you are alive. That you survived a horror that many would not.”
Arianna searched her face. “You know him well?”
“We are friends of a sort.” And lovers…and the man I love with every emotion in my heart.
Relief lit in her expression, and Crispin looked away.
“I am certain he will be at a particular ball tomorrow,” Maryann offered. “I have an invitation. We could all go. And once there, we send him a note to meet in the gardens. Will that do?”
“Yes,” Arianna said with a warm, relieved smile. “Thank you, Lady Maryann.”
Soon she was shown to a tastefully furnished room with an adjoining bath chamber. Arianna had assured her it was not too late for the servants to heat water for a bath, and Maryann had taken a long soak, where she had wept.
Now she lay in the large, comfortable bed in the dark, staring at the unadorned ceiling. What would he do when he found out Arianna lived? Marry her immediately or publicly woo her first and then make an offer? The agony of the thought was unbearable, but how could she begrudge him such a happiness?
If he had wanted Maryann, he would have stayed…and allowed them to try to find their path to happiness despite everything.
My heart is laid upon the ground. Please do not step on it.
The memory of her plea had mortification and pain clawing at her heart in equal measure. “He walked away,” she whispered in the darkened room. “And I, too, need to walk away from all the hopes I’ve had about him.”
Memories of his tongue against her, his hands pleasuring, the feel of his body deep within her, the evocative blend of pleasure and pain. Maryann could not regret living with such wanton freedom, and years from now she would not regret that she loved him with every emotion in her heart. If only the pain of it all didn’t make her struggle to breathe. Inhaling deeply, she attempted to quiet her mind.
Simply put, she needed to stop loving Nicolas St. Ives.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Nicolas stood on the wide-open terrace of the Dowager Countess of Marsh’s home, smoking a cheroot, the noise of the ball, the clink of champagne glasses, the facile laughter and chatter a distant hum in the background. He had not slept since he hovered in the shadows outside of the Asylum and watched as Maryann and Crispin entered their carriage and rumbled away. It had been almost a full day, his eyes were gritty, his jawline shadowed by an overnight beard, and his stomach unable to withstand even the simplest of food. A hollowness had blossomed through him the second the words parting them forever had left his mouth, and it had spread and settled into his bones.
He had hurt her.
My heart is laid upon the ground.
The words were stuck in Nicolas’s chest like sharpened barbs and with every breath he took, they dug deeper, ripping into his belief that he could exist without her. Fucking hell. The raw ache that had throbbed in her voice haunted him. They