Lady Roundtree was resting upstairs in her bedchamber when the butler strode into Nora’s sitting room. The normally orderly interior had just been turned topsy-turvy by none other than his esteemed highness, Captain Pugboat, who had determined that sharing teacakes was for lesser pups right before he’d taken off in a flurry of wrinkled fur and cake crumbs.

“Mr. Grenville to see you, miss.”

Nora’s besotted heart grew giddy. “To see me? Not Lady Roundtree?”

“You, miss.”

“Please, show him in.” She should not be so surprised. He had proposed to her, after all.

It was perhaps unusual to pay a second call so soon after the first, but she could not bring herself to care about adhering to such protocols. Not only was Heath Nora’s future husband—he was also her first gentleman caller. He was here for her.

It took all her self-control not to fly into his arms the moment he entered the disordered drawing room.

“Such wonderful timing!” she said with a laugh. “I was trying to teach new tricks to—”

“I don’t care.” Heath’s countenance was dark and angry. Those were not storm clouds brewing in his eyes, but entire battles being waged. And all of it was focused on her.

Nora’s smile died on her lips.

The wacky story about Captain Pugboat frolicking on the tea tray amongst the lemon cakes no longer seemed very funny.

“What is it?” she stammered. But of course, she already knew. There could only be one answer.

“You.” He stared at her as if she were a specimen to dissect, a moth in a butterfly collection, something to be pinned through with a sharp needle and never looked at again. “I had no idea I was in the presence of such a popular artist.”

She swallowed hard. The ruse was over. And so, it seemed, was her chance at a happy ever after.

He would never forgive her for this.

“I thought about telling you,” she said hoarsely.

His flat gaze was sharp enough to cut ice. “Did you?”

She didn’t blame him for not believing her.

He would probably never believe anything she said again.

“I stopped,” she whispered. “I’m not drawing anymore.”

His eyes flashed. “You started.”

She had no reply.

Hurt mixed with anger on his face. He filled his lungs as if forcing himself to remain calm.

“Why did you do it?” His voice was detached, disinterested, emotionless. Like a judge about to pass sentence.

She doubted he would like her defense. “At first, my drawings were just for myself and my family. I would sketch whatever happened that day, and send them back home in the post.”

His lip curled. “So they could mock us from afar?”

“No.”

So they would know how it was going. She had learned to draw because she couldn’t write.

But that wasn’t why she had kept making caricatures.

“C-Carter sent one of the sketches to a publisher on a lark,” she began hesitantly.

A bark of laughter came from Heath’s throat. “You blame your brother for your drawings?”

“I do not. When the publisher offered more money for a single drawing than I could earn in a fortnight as a companion, I could not afford to stop. My grandparents could not afford for me to stop. Our farm could not afford for me to stop. So much was riding on my ability to scrape us out of our hole. The few sheep we still owned—”

“You lied to me.” His hazel eyes were furious. “While I dreamt of building a future together, you did your best to keep me in the dark.”

He was not listening. Nora’s fingers curled into fists. “I would think, as a secret-keeper, you of all people would understand the reason for lies of omission.”

“Of course I understand the need to keep certain details from the public. You were exploiting the public’s secrets for profit, and keeping your private self secret from me. That’s why I’m angry.” His gaze was deeply hurt. “These magical eight weeks have been a complete misrepresentation of who you are. Who I thought I was falling in love with. Who I thought I was going to marry. You’re not that person at all.”

He was right.

She had good reasons for every minute of her actions, but his heart did not deserve to be treated shabbily. Not by her. Not by anyone. She might not have had a choice, but that didn’t make her any less a monster. He had loved her.

And now he didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” she said brokenly.

His laugh was hollow and bitter. “You’re not sorry. You climbed on top of me on that settee knowing full well how I would feel once I learned the truth. Was it all some trick to bring a future baron up to scratch? You played your hand well.” He gestured at the chaise in disgust. “The deed is done.”

Nora sucked in a shuddering breath. She could not let him think that the moment they had shared was all part of a grand manipulation to line her pockets. She loved him too much.

“It’s not too late for you,” she said, her voice hoarse. “Our private moments can remain a secret. No one is better at keeping them than you.”

“No, I believe you win that award,” he said, his voice icy and his gaze empty.

She winced. Although they could not save their relationship, she could do him this courtesy. “I cannot be ruined if there is no scandal. No one will know we made love.”

His eyes beseeched her with equal parts hope and pain. “Did we make love if I don’t even know who you are?”

“You do know who I really am,” she burst out, and took a halting step toward him. “I love you. Your happiness matters more than my own. Your place in Society is critical. Your career is important to so many. I’ve never thought I was good enough for you. There is no trap. You can walk away. You are under no obligation to me at all.”

He stared at her in stony silence, a man at war with his honor and her betrayal.

She had known learning the truth would mean losing him forever. Curse those bloody caricatures. If she could have known from the start she would one day meet him and fall in love…

But she hadn’t. And here they were.

Soon, she would go back home where she belonged.

His world was not meant for her. She’d had no call to believe the future they’d painted was any more substantial than a dream. But not like this. Her heart twisted. She hadn’t meant to ruin Heath’s faith in her so irrevocably. She certainly hadn’t meant to trap him into wedding someone he despised.

She’d meant it when she’d said he was under no obligation toward her. Losing Heath would carve a void in her soul that she could never fill.

But no matter how ardently Nora loved him, if being anywhere near her caused him pain, she would walk away and never look back.