Redeeming the Reclusive Earl - Virginia Heath Page 0,63
the gallows.
The two parties split at the door and he decided it was telling she did not look back. Before he and Adam turned the corner to his study, he heard Effie’s voice in the distance. ‘I shan’t be a minute. I need to visit the...’
‘Yes, of course.’ Eleanor this time. ‘Sherry or cordial, Effie?’
‘Sherry, please.’
Then silence. A silence Max couldn’t afford to ignore. He hastened Adam into the room and pointed him in the direction of the port decanter, then briefly excused himself to answer the call of nature, determined to clear the air and tell her he, too, would march outside the offices of the blasted narrow-minded antiquarians because their dismissive treatment of her was entirely unacceptable.
He was prowling in the hallway when Effie reappeared and instantly blushed crimson. ‘Ah...’ Her eyes dipped to the hands which had suddenly clenched in front of her, so tightly her knuckles were white. ‘I hoped you would hang back... We need to talk... Urgently as a matter of fact... There is something important I have been meaning to tell you all evening... You see, the thing is, I might have inadvertently...’
‘I know. And you really do not need to worry.’ He waved away whatever damning words she was about to utter. Rejection was always best handled with indifference. Largely because his foolish pride couldn’t handle outright rejection. It was bad enough from everyone else—painful in the extreme, in fact—but hers had the power to seriously wound and he wasn’t entirely sure his battered heart was up to that.
She seemed relieved. ‘You know?’
‘It was inevitable...’ He smiled. Nonplussed. Or as nonplussed as he could smile when his throat had constricted with pain. ‘Wasn’t it?’ The masochist in him willed her to deny it.
‘It was a moment of madness.’
‘It was.’ Max shrugged. Hoped he appeared blasé and unbothered. ‘I shan’t hold it against you.’
‘Oh, thank goodness!’ Her breath came out in a whoosh. She was obviously and unflatteringly relieved. Like receiving a last-minute pardon while the executioner was sharpening his axe type relieved. His heart shrivelled, then wept at the sight. ‘I’ve been so worried about telling you. I was certain you wouldn’t take it well... I am not entirely sure what I was thinking, but at the time... Well, clearly I wasn’t thinking and acted on impulse rather than giving the matter serious thought...’ Each word slashed like a blade, but he kept his expression light. Something which took every bit of his strength to accomplish. ‘As you say, a moment of frustrated madness...’
‘It was just an exuberant display of excitement borne in the heat of the moment, Effie. Perfectly understandable after we had just unearthed that magnificent shield. I have never found anything before and now I understand what you see in it. Digging up treasure is a heady feeling. A heady feeling indeed...’ He was in danger of laying it on a bit thick. ‘Let us blame the shield for our stupidity.’
‘The shield?’ She blinked and her cheeks heated some more. ‘Stupidity? Are you referring to the kiss?’
‘It was hardly a kiss, Effie. More a bumping of faces in the tight confines of the trench. And quite obviously a big mistake.’
‘A mistake?’
‘Are you going to repeat everything I say now?’ He attempted a playful smile which physically hurt to keep glued in place while he waved the perfect kiss away with a dismissive flick of his suddenly lead-like hand. ‘It’s best forgotten, Effie. In fact, if you hadn’t brought it up, I probably would have forgotten all about it already—what with all the excitement of unearthing actual buried treasure and all...’ Something about her expression bothered him, but he couldn’t put his finger on what. Because nerves were getting the better of him, he ploughed on regardless, mindful he was babbling like a country maiden attending her first ball at Almack’s, desperate to convince her he was perfectly nonchalant with her obvious bitter regret and disgust. ‘It’s funny really when you think about it.’
‘Think about what?’
‘Me and you.’ The feigned laughter sounded pathetically hollow to his own ears, so he sincerely doubted she was even slightly convinced by it, but he persevered. Wishing he were dead.