been the one who had assumed the worst of her. And he’d be the one to suffer the consequences. A life without her.
She’d asked him if he loved her. He didn’t think he knew what love meant. But if this aching pit in his belly—this feeling as if all of the happiness and joy had been sucked out of his life—meant that he loved her, then he did. He’d been a coward. He hadn’t been able to tell her. It wasn’t his right. After the mistakes he’d made, he had no business ruining her engagement by declaring his love. Her father already detested him. She told him herself that Montlake wouldn’t allow her to cry off, and even if she tried, Rhys couldn’t imagine Montlake suddenly consenting to their marriage.
No. It was better for Julianna this way even though the words I love you had been on the tip of Rhys’s tongue. He’d wanted to say them, he truly had, but, how could he? How could he tell her he loved her, knowing she’d still have to marry Murdock? Nothing could be more selfish.
Rhys watched until her coach disappeared into the distance. Then he leaned his head against the window frame and uttered a curse so loud it shook the beam above his head.
“You found her, didn’t you?”
Rhys turned at the sound of Clayton’s measured voice. “What?”
“You were the one who brought Lady Julianna back after the storm,” Clayton continued.
Rhys lowered his head and scratched at the back of his neck. “How did you know?”
Clayton shrugged. “It was a simple process of elimination. Everyone else had returned with no luck. I couldn’t find you.”
“I took Midnight,” Rhys admitted.
“I suspected as much. Where did you find her, at any rate?”
Rhys pressed a fist to his forehead. His head had been throbbing all morning. “The gamekeeper’s cottage.”
Clayton nodded. “Ah, the one place none of the rest of us bothered to look.”
Rhys put his hands on his hips. “I’d shown it to her and her friends on their tour.”
Clayton lifted both brows. “Tour? Friends?”
“Yes, Julianna had been coming out here quite a bit. To…” How could he possibly explain what she’d been doing? “Rile me.”
Clayton left one brow arched. “To rile you? Or to visit you?”
“Visit me?” Rhys frowned. “Not at all. She’d been trying to get me to quit, to forfeit the bet.”
“And…” Clayton replied quietly, “did she succeed?”
Rhys pulled himself away from the window and strode toward his friend. “You know, I believe she did. As of this moment, I’m officially resigning my position as a groomsman. Bell wins the bet.”
Rhys clapped his friend on the back and continued walking toward the staircase. He intended to empty his berth and leave this blasted house party once and for all.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
He should have known that Bell would appear. No doubt Clayton had rushed back to the manor house to find him. The marquess was standing next to Rhys’s berth, leaning his shoulder against the wall, his arms folded negligently across his chest, when Rhys finally looked up and noticed him.
Damn, spies were bloody silent.
Rhys had been tossing his few belongings into the bag he’d brought with him. Blast. He would have to borrow one of Clayton’s carriages to get back to London. His own wasn’t due to arrive for him until after the house party ended.
In the meantime, he staunchly ignored the spy standing only a few paces away.
“You’re forfeiting?” Bell finally drawled.
“That’s right,” Rhys said, kicking the ungodly mattress that he would not miss.
Bell contemplated his fingernails. “Care to explain why?”
“No, actually, I don’t.” Rhys gave his friend a tight smile and immediately changed the subject. “How’s the hunt for the traitor going?”
Bell shrugged. “There’ve been some…complications.”
Rhys arched a brow. “Complications?”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” Bell assured him.
“Of course,” Rhys replied, “because you can handle anything, can’t you, Lord Bellingham?”
Bell pushed himself off the wall and took a step forward. “You’ll forgive me for asking why you’re quitting. But I’m concerned. I happen to know how much you hate to lose bets.”
“I don’t give a bloody damn about this bet any longer.” Rhys’s voice was flat and emotionless.
“Don’t you? Why, what in the world could make you stop caring about a bet that only a few days ago, you were intent upon winning?”
Rhys stuffed the last of his belongings into the bag. He turned his head to glare at Bell. “Do you have a point?”
Bell nodded sagely. “I always have a point.”
Rhys hoisted the full bag to his shoulder. “Then please make