Chapter Nineteen
My heart breaks to see Winifred’s pain. How agonizing it must be for her to have loved so deeply when her love was never returned. It is the thing I fear most with Arden.
—Roslyn to Fanny
“Two daughters?” Lady Freemantle repeated in a stricken voice when she had heard the entire tale. “In addition to a son?”
The size of Sir Rupert’s secret family seemed to shock her more than confirmation that his illegitimate son had threatened to steal her jewels at gunpoint.
Drew watched as Roslyn put a comforting arm around her friend. “I am so sorry, Winifred,” Roslyn murmured. “But we thought you would wish to know the truth.”
“Y-yes…I do. But ’tis a blow to know what…that woman did for him when I could not. She bore him three children….”
Mutely Lady Freemantle bit her lower lip, striving to hold back tears. It was clear she was bitterly hurt to have such blatant proof of her husband’s betrayal—and his mistress’s fertility. Her hand clutched at her heart. “Faith, how could I not have known all those years?”
Roslyn tightened her arm around the older lady’s shoulders. “I’m certain Sir Rupert didn’t want to distress you by flaunting the circumstances.”
After a long moment, Drew broke the silence. “We need to decide how to deal with the boy, my lady. Do you wish to lay charges against Benjamin Baines for robbery?”
She glanced up at him, still looking dazed. “No…I could never…he is Rupert’s son. I couldn’t send him to prison.”
Drew gave a faint nod. “I thought you might feel that way, but even so, he must be made to see how wrong he was so that he won’t repeat his crimes.”
“Indeed he does, your grace, but he shouldn’t be punished with prison. I could never be so cruel.”
“What about the brooch with Sir Rupert’s likeness?” Roslyn asked quietly.
Lady Freemantle shifted her gaze. “You think I should return it to that woman…Constance is her name?”
“It would be a great kindness, Winifred. She may not survive her illness, and his portrait may give her consolation in her last days.”
Her ladyship drew a shuddering breath. “I fancy it is hers rightfully. She should have it, especially if she is dying.”
It had been kind of Roslyn to suggest returning the brooch, Drew reflected to himself—yet one more indication of her compassion. The sharp contrast with his mother struck him anew. He couldn’t picture the duchess putting herself out for anyone, certainly not performing a kindness for her late husband’s ill mistress and by-blows. The very idea would have been utter anathema.
He was rather surprised, however, that Roslyn’s generosity of spirit was shared by Lady Freemantle. Unexpectedly, her ladyship swallowed her tears and announced, “I’ll deliver the brooch to Constance myself. I want to see Benjamin, in any case—and his young sisters also.”
Roslyn hesitated. “Are you certain that is a good idea, Winifred?”
Steeling her spine, she sat up straighter. “Yes, I am certain. They are Rupert’s flesh and blood…all I have left of my husband. I can’t turn my back on them. Yes,” she argued with herself, “I must see to their welfare. It would be heartless to let Rupert’s children starve.” Suddenly her brow furrowed. “If Constance dies, what will happen to the children? I will have to care for them myself then,” she replied, answering her own question. “Fact is, I should take them in now….”
“Winifred,” Roslyn said gently, “if Constance pulls through, I don’t believe she could bear to let her children go.”
Her ladyship’s voice trembled. “But I can provide for them far better than she can.”
“You cannot ask her to turn her children over to you. They are all she has.”
“Yes…you are right,” Lady Freemantle said sorrowfully before brightening a little. “I know…they can all come here to live at the Park with me. This house is immense—there is ample room for three children and their mother.”
Roslyn continued to withhold her enthusiasm. “You shouldn’t rush to make any decisions just now, Winifred. You have only just now learned of their existence. And Constance may have other plans if she recovers the funds due her.”
“Yes, of course I should speak to Constance first.” Lady Freemantle’s frown deepened. “Then again…if she’s a genteel lady, she may not care to associate with someone of my low origins.”
“I don’t believe she is like that,” Roslyn said quickly. “And I expect she would be grateful for your help. But I am thinking of you, dearest. Taking in an entire family, especially one who may bring you painful memories, is a large undertaking. You need to give it careful consideration.”
She dashed at her moist eyes. “I have considered it, Roslyn. This is something I must do. I feel sure ’tis what Rupert would have wanted.” Her mouth twisted ironically. “I should be angry with him for his adultery, I know, but the children aren’t to blame for his sin. And no matter what he did, I loved him.”
Roslyn’s expression softened. “I’m certain Sir Rupert loved you more than you realize.”
Sniffing, Winifred looked wistful. “He might have loved me if his heart hadn’t already been taken.” She smiled bravely. “But now I’ll have his children to love. I always wanted children. I only pray Constance will be willing to share them with me.”
“I think perhaps she might. She will certainly see the advantages of your support, and she seems to be the kind of mother who would do anything for her children.”
Lady Freemantle nodded to herself. “Really, there’s no need to wait. Constance should come here at once. She will recuperate much better here at the Park.”
Drew intervened. “She may be too ill to be moved, my lady. My physician should make that judgment.”
“When she recovers, then. Or sooner, if your physician deems it safe. I shall bring Constance and the children here, if she is willing.” She glanced imploringly at Drew. “Will you help me arrange it, your grace?”
“If you gain her agreement, then yes, of course. I’ll assist in any way I can, my lady. And I will escort you to see Constance now, if you wish.”
“I do wish. Thank you, your grace. You are prodigiously kind.”
Smiling mistily, Roslyn wrapped her arms around the older woman. “It is you who is kind, Winifred. You are the best, kindest person I know.”
“Pah, you would have done the same, were you in my place—” She faltered, shooting another brief glance at Drew. “But then you would never have found yourself in my place, dear.”
Rising abruptly, Lady Freemantle suddenly resumed her usual cheerful, managing style. “If you will give me a moment, your grace, I’ll just run up to my rooms and fetch my…the brooch. And I must speak to Pointon to arrange rooms in case Constance can be moved. And Cook must prepare a proper supper for the children, of course….”
She trailed out of the parlor, still speaking to herself, leaving Drew alone with Roslyn.
When an awkward silence ensued, he broke it by remarking idly, “The august Pointon may be offended at having to welcome his late master’s fille de joie and offspring into his domain. Butlers are notorious for their strict adherence to proper rules.”
Roslyn smiled faintly. “But he will do so with good grace because he holds Winifred in great affection. All of her servants do, in large part because of how she treats them. Winifred came from the working class and understands that fairness and respect go a long way toward earning their loyalty.”
“Unlike my mother,” Drew said dryly, “who thinks servants are not human.”
Another silence fell between them, but this one Roslyn broke after a moment. “I have no doubt the duchess was pleased that we ended our betrothal.”
Feeling his heart constrict at her dispassionate tone, Drew shot her a sharp glance. “I haven’t told her yet.”
“You should do so at once, your grace. There is no reason to delay.”
“Roslyn—”
“Do you intend to send the announcement to the papers, or should I?” she pressed.
He ground his teeth. He had hoped to give Roslyn time to change her mind about ending their betrothal, but it was clear she hadn’t—and perhaps never would, judging from her remote expression. The serene, composed, lovely creature gazing coolly back at him could have been a marble statue for all the emotion she showed. Her blue eyes were distant, almost chill, conveying the unmistakable message that she wanted nothing more to do with him.
“I will see to it,” Drew bit out grimly.
Roslyn inclined her head regally. “Thank you. I would thank you again for being so generous to my friend, but you have told me you don’t desire my gratitude.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Then there is nothing more for us to say. Good day, your grace.”
His lungs tight, Drew watched as Roslyn turned and walked gracefully from the room, giving him no chance to say all the things he wanted—needed, yearned—to say to her.
Steeped in his own dark thoughts, Drew remained unusually silent as his coach conveyed Lady Freemantle and himself to London. They had nearly reached the outskirts of the city when she asked him in a small voice, “Was my request for your escort too much of an impertinence, your grace?”
Shaking himself from his distraction, Drew fixed his gaze on her. “I beg your pardon?”
“You are scowling so ferociously, it makes me think I’ve offended you. I’ll wager you disapprove of my decision to invite Constance and her children to live with me.”
He managed a wry smile. “On the contrary, my lady, I am all admiration.”
She peered at him suspiciously. “Are you making game of me?”
“No. Seriously, I admire what you are doing, although I admit to being a little astonished. Most ladies would be happy to let their husband’s other family starve…out of revenge, if nothing else. My own mother certainly would never have reacted as you have.” Indeed, Drew thought, the duchess would have been outraged and humiliated enough by their mere existence to lash out in anger, not generosity.
“But I am not a true lady, your grace.”
“I beg to differ.” Winifred Freemantle might have come from the lower orders, but her conduct was more noble than a real noblewoman’s. “You are every inch a lady,” he said softly.
She flushed with pride and pleasure. “Well…my birth and breeding are far from genteel…but I have Roslyn and her sisters to thank for setting me a good example.”
“You realize that you may suffer unexpected consequences because of your decision?”
Her ladyship sighed. “Yes, I collect so. I’ll no doubt be ridiculed and disdained by my fancy neighbors. But I can bear it, since I loved my husband. When you truly love someone, no sacrifice is too great. I think you would do the same if you were in my shoes, your grace.”
Drew felt his gut clench at her confident pronouncement. If he’d always questioned the existence of true love, seeing the sacrifice Lady Freemantle was willing to make for love of her late husband, for love of his children, should be proof enough that love was real.
Would he make the same sacrifice for Roslyn if it were her children who needed caring for? He suspected he would, since they would be part of her.
Her ladyship was eyeing him intently, and her voice held calm certainty when she said, “You love Roslyn, or I miss my guess.”
His heart giving a jolt, he averted his gaze from the shameless matchmaker’s prying one, even as he turned the question over in his mind. Do I love her?
He knew there was only one answer he could give. Stunning as it was for him to admit, he was deeply in love with Roslyn.
Indeed, he had loved her for some time, although he’d been furiously resisting his feelings and tenaciously denying the truth to himself. Roslyn had stolen into the guarded regions of his heart and settled there like a quiet fire.
In all truth, he had been missing her all his life; he just hadn’t realized it until this moment. He had searched for fulfillment with his countless mistresses but never found it until her. The passion, the emotion, the pleasure, the simple joy he felt at being with her filled an undeniable need in him.
He needed her, more than he ever imagined needing any woman. He wanted to have children with her, a family. He wanted her love. The kind of deep, abiding love that Constance had known with Sir Rupert. The kind of love Winifred Freemantle still bore for him four years after his death.
Yet Roslyn didn’t return his love, Drew reminded himself, feeling the knife in his gut twist another painful turn. She’d made it abundantly clear that she wanted to cut him out of her life.
It scared the devil out of him to think that he had lost her. But then, he had never really had her, despite their betrothal.
The knife dug deeper. Roslyn could never come to love him the way he did her, Drew reflected. Not when she was in love with Haviland.
Did he have the right to keep pursuing her when her heart belonged to another man? What about her wishes, her needs? Her dreams? Her happiness?
What was it Roslyn had said to him? Heart love is when you put someone else’s needs over your own. What did it say about him if he put his own needs, his own happiness, above hers? How could he claim to love her if all he cared about was himself?
If you love her, you fool, you should want her happiness. You should be willing to give her up…shouldn’t you?
The thought of living without Roslyn for the rest of his life shook Drew to his core. But if he truly loved her, did he have any choice?
The question haunted him for the remainder of the day.
Through Lady Freemantle’s awkward yet strangely poignant meeting with Constance, who was pitifully grateful that her children would be provided for in the event of her demise.
Through the interview with his physician, who did indeed determine it advisable to remove the gravely ill patient from the noxious stews of London to healthier surroundings and the clean, fresh air of the country.
Through the painstaking effort to transport the invalid by slow stages to the luxurious mansion at Freemantle Park.
Through the wide-eyed wonder that Constance’s children displayed at their new environs; even Ben, whose defiant belligerence and suspicion faded to cautious hope that his mother and sisters might have found salvation in the person of Lady Freemantle, and that the heavy burden of caring for them had been lifted from his thin shoulders.
Through the return journey to London, during which Drew brooded and savagely debated with himself about his course of action.
The hour was late when he finally reached his home. He went straight to his library, where he locked himself inside with two bottles of his best aged Scotch whiskey. If he was going to cut out his heart for Roslyn, he had to be numb enough to do it.
Drew had advanced to the second bottle, however, before he could force himself to relentlessly face the cold, bitter truth: He had to let her go.
He would feel devastatingly incomplete without her, but Roslyn’s happiness lay with Haviland—and he wanted her to be happy, even if it meant losing her to another man. His hands were unsteady as he brought the bottle to his lips again.
He wanted her happiness more than anything in his life. More than his life.
“Sho why ’re you dallying, you pitiful sod?” he muttered. “No reashon to delay. You ’ave to give her the shance to have her dreams come true.”
With effort, Drew rose and made his way over to the bellpull to ring for his majordomo. With even greater effort he remained standing as he haltingly gave instructions for a footman to be dispatched to Brooks Club, where the Earl of Haviland might possibly be found.
Then sinking onto the sofa again, Drew brought the bottle to his lips for another long, mind-numbing dose of fortitude.
He was stretched out on the sofa, half comatose, when a sharp rap came on the library door. Shaking himself awake, Drew hauled himself up to a sitting position and bid entrance.
When a gentleman strode into the room, Drew narrowed his bleary-eyed gaze. He thought his caller might be Haviland, but his vision was blurred so much that there seemed to be two of him. Drew, however, recognized the curt voice as Haviland’s.
“I trust you will explain the urgency of your summons, your grace. I had a winning hand.”
Drew tried carefully to enunciate, but his speech still sounded slurred when he replied, “I will reimbursh you for any losh you suffered.”
Haviland’s eyebrow shot up as he regarded Drew. “You surprise me, Arden. You’re three sheets to the wind.”
“Four,” Drew responded, holding up five fingers.
“So why did you call me here?” the earl demanded impatiently.
Drew grimaced as he tried to gather his courage. “Bloody truth is, I’m sshtepping aside. You can have ’er.”
“Have whom?”
“Roshlyn! Who else would I bloody well be talking about?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea.”
Drew glared balefully. “Y’ can’t tell me you ’aven’t been purshuing her…I know better.”
“I might have had she not been betrothed to you.”
“But you made her love you.”
“You have a touching but misplaced confidence in my powers of seduction.”
“No, I don’t. You sheduced ’er before I ever met ’er.”
Doubt, suspicion, irritation all tinged the earl’s expression. “Just what the devil are you up to, Arden?”
“I’m trying to make ’er happy!” Drew practically shouted and then quickly clamped a hand to his temple.
“You are giving up your claim to her?”
Drew shook his throbbing head. “Thash the trouble…never had any real claim to ’er. Sheesh yours and always hash been.”
Haviland crossed his arms over his powerful chest. “I wasn’t born yesterday, your grace. You’ll change your mind when you are sober, and then you’ll call me out for daring to woo your lady. I’ve no desire to meet you over pistols at dawn. If you’re half as good a shot as I am, we’re likely to end up killing each other.”
“Don’t be an ash, Havilan’,” Drew retorted furiously. “I’m tryin’ to be damned noble, givin’ her to a man she can love.” He took another long swallow of whiskey before saying in a despairing tone, “Roshlyn loves you, you bleedin’ idiot.”
There was a long pause while Haviland tried to assimilate the announcement. “She never gave any indication that she held me in any special affection.”
“Well, shee does. Sheesh been plotting your capture shince I met her…and I ’elped her, bloody fool that I am.” His slurred laughter was bitter with irony. “Roshlyn will make you”—he took another pull from the bottle—“a bloody fine bride.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“You should feel damn forshunate, Havilan’.”
“I don’t doubt that either.”
Drew raised his gaze to glare again. “You damned well better make ’er happy when you marry her, or you’ll answer to me. Do I make myshelf clear?”
Haviland’s mouth curved in an ironic smile. “Perfectly, your grace. And I can promise you that I will give it my best effort.”
Haviland turned and walked out, shutting the door softly behind him.
Drew stood and stared for a long moment, feeling as if he had a gaping, burning hole in his chest where his heart should be.
So why then when he threw the bottle against the library door with all his might, shattering the glass, did it seem as if his heart had shattered into fragments at the same time?
From the doorway of Constance’s sickroom, Roslyn watched with Winifred as the two young Baines girls tiptoed quietly to their mother’s bedside.
After a moment, the invalid’s eyes fluttered open. Upon seeing her daughters, Constance gave a wan but beatific smile and murmured a faint greeting. “Good morning, my darlings.”
“Are you feeling better, Mama?” whispered the older daughter, Sarah.
“Much better, thankfully,” Constance assured them. “The doctor’s medicine seems to have helped a good deal. My chest does not hurt as much, and my cough is less frequent.”
Winifred’s housekeeper had sat with Constance all during the night, applying warm compresses to her chest and helping her sip the doctor’s herbal concoction to calm her hacking.
“Oh, Mama,” the youngest girl, Daisy, exclaimed in relief. “We were ever so worried for you.”
“I know, my love. I was exceedingly worried, too. So tell me…how do you like your new home?”
“Mama, it is quite famous,” Sarah responded with awe in her tone. “Our bedchamber is immense, and we each have our own featherbed, so I don’t have to endure Daisy’s kicking. And you must see the nursery. Aunt Winifred says we are to have our own governess so you won’t have to teach us anymore. And Miss Loring has brought us ever so many books to read. Daisy likes the picture books best, but I like the map books that show all the countries you told us about.”
“And you, Daisy, my love?” Constance asked her youngest daughter. “Are you pleased to be here?”
Daisy nodded with eager enthusiasm and held up the pretty porcelain doll she had clutched to her chest. “Oh, yes, Mama. See how beautiful my new doll is. Auntie Win-fred gave her to me, but I have not chosen a name yet. Auntie Win-fred says I must wait until you are all better and can help me pick one.”
Constance raised her gaze to Winifred, her look full of gratitude. “I cannot thank you enough, my lady. I think you must be an angel in disguise.”
From the doorway, Winifred flushed with embarrassed pleasure but shook her head. “’Tis only fitting they should make their home here. And you, too, my dear. You are all very welcome at Freemantle Park.”
Tears welled up in Constance’s eyes as she returned Winifred’s smile.
Watching them, Roslyn felt her heart warm at the bittersweet moment. The two woman shared a common bond, caring for the children of the man they had each loved.
Such love would have to be profoundly strong and deep to be so accepting, Roslyn reflected. The thought brought an ache to her throat. She wondered if she could be as magnanimous were she to learn that Drew had a second family. It would be devastatingly painful, but she believed she could—
But then there was no point in indulging in such distressing speculation, Roslyn scolded herself. Instead she ought simply to feel glad for her friend.
And there was more reason for gladness. This morning it seemed less likely that Constance would die from her grave illness.
Winifred broke the tender moment just then by clearing her throat, as if the display of emotion flustered her. “Now, then,” she said with a return of her usual pragmatism as she addressed Constance. “You should have a few moments alone with your daughters, but afterward they must let you rest. I will send a maid to sit with you, but you know to ring the bell if you need anything at all.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Constance murmured again.
“And you must call me by my given name,” Winifred added briskly. “This ‘lady’ business will not do if we are to be friends.”
Constance laughed softly at that. “I should very much like to be friends, Winifred.”
“Very well then, Constance….”
Beaming, Winifred turned and left the bedchamber. Roslyn followed her out to the corridor and shut the door quietly behind her.
“It was the right decision to bring them here,” Winifred declared, her face suffused with pleasure. “The girls will be happy here, and so will I. They are the children I never had,” she added softly.
“And I am very happy for you,” Roslyn murmured with affection.
Her friend shot her a penetrating glance. “I trust you and Arden will be blessed with children someday, so you can know the same happiness, my dear.”
Roslyn hesitated to reply. With Constance’s fate hanging in the balance, she hadn’t wanted to burden Winifred with the news of her dissolved engagement to Drew. So she merely smiled and squeezed her friend’s hand. “You are indeed an angel, Winifred. Now if only you would cease prying in my affairs, I would be as grateful as Constance.”
Winifred gave a raucous laugh, clearly delighted by the remark, but Roslyn couldn’t share her laughter. Not when her heart was so heavy. At the moment she felt as if she would never know happiness again.
Yet for the next hour until she took her leave of Winifred and the children, Roslyn hid her despondency well. When she returned to Danvers Hall, however, she was required to continue the charade, for she discovered that Earl of Haviland had just called upon her.
Finding him waiting in the entranceway for her, Roslyn forced herself to paste a welcoming smile on her lips as she moved forward to greet him.
“I beg your pardon?” Roslyn said five minutes later, blinking at her noble caller. Surely she wasn’t hearing correctly. Had the earl just proposed marriage to her?
Haviland’s handsome mouth curved in a wry grin. “Did I not express myself correctly, Miss Loring? Perhaps not, since this is my first proposal. But regardless of how I should phrase my offer, I would be highly honored if you would grant me your hand in marriage.”
Managing to stop staring so impolitely, Roslyn returned an uncertain smile. “Your proposal was entirely correct, my lord. I am just astonished you made it. I had no idea you wished to wed me.”
One heavy dark eyebrow rose. “Surely it doesn’t come as a total surprise. You know I have long admired you.”
“But it is a long step between admiration and suddenly contemplating marriage.”
Haviland shrugged his broad shoulders. “It isn’t all that sudden. I never wanted the earldom, but when I inherited the title at my father’s death last year, I assumed all the obligations of the role. In fact, I returned to England with the intention of settling down with a wife and begetting heirs. I thought I should wait until a proper period of mourning had passed, of course, but now that it is over, my grandmother has been after me to find a bride.”
Lowering her gaze to give herself time to think, Roslyn shook her head at the irony of Haviland’s timing. What she wouldn’t have given to have received his offer three weeks ago, before she had come to know Drew so intimately!
“It is still quite unexpected, my lord,” she said lamely, at a loss for words.
“I can see I have caught you off guard,” Haviland observed. “But I hold you in very high esteem, Miss Loring, and think you would make an admirable countess. I would have approached you sooner had you not become engaged to Arden. But now that your betrothal is at an end, I thought I would try my luck.”
Roslyn’s gaze lifted abruptly to meet his. “Where did you hear about our betrothal ending?”
“From Arden himself, last night.”
She felt a strange jolt to her heart. Drew had told Lord Haviland about their parting? But she didn’t want to think about Drew just now. Especially when the earl was standing before her, awaiting her answer. And now that her initial astonishment had subsided, she could give him one.
Swallowing the dryness in her throat, Roslyn clasped her hands before her as she politely replied, “I am very honored by your offer, my lord, but I fear I must decline.”
He hesitated a long moment. “I suppose it would be rude to ask the reason for your refusal. Do you have an objection to me personally?”
“No…of course not.”
“Then why?”
Roslyn found it hard to meet his searching gaze. She couldn’t bring herself to come right out and baldly confess losing her innocence to Drew, but she couldn’t marry Haviland without telling him about it. And even if he was willing to accept an unchaste bride, she didn’t love him—and she was now less willing than ever to settle for a loveless marriage.
Before she could form a reply, though, Haviland went on. “I think we would deal well together, Miss Loring. We could have very comfortable union of convenience.”
“But you see, my lord,” Roslyn finally said, “I have never been a fan of convenient marriages. On the contrary, I always hoped I would make a love match someday.”
Haviland took a step closer to her. His look was surprisingly gentle, almost tender. “We don’t love each other now, true, but there is always the possibility love will grow between us.”
“No. I don’t believe it is possible.”
“Because your affections are still engaged by Arden?”
Roslyn found herself flushing. “Why would they be? I was the one who broke our engagement.”
“Which seems a very good reason to consider my offer. If you accept, you will have the protection of my name. You know the way of the world as well as I do. A broken engagement to a duke will not be easy for you to overcome.”
Roslyn felt herself warm at Lord Haviland’s generosity. “I am honored, truly, but I cannot marry you.”
“Because you have feelings for Arden,” he pressed.
Mutely, Roslyn glanced down at her clasped fingers, not wanting to answer. For days now she’d struggled to deny the truth to herself. She’d tried desperately to keep her heart safe from Drew, to no avail. She did harbor feelings for him. Powerful, fervent, irrefutable feelings. She loved him.
A wave of despair washed over her as she acknowledged how utterly foolish she’d been. She loved Drew.
Which made agreeing to Haviland’s proposal of marriage impossible. She couldn’t marry one man when she loved another.
Her fingers clenched even more tightly. She couldn’t pinpoint the first moment when her heart had been irrevocably captured. Perhaps it was at Arden Castle, when she’d seen Drew’s devotion to his old governess. Or perhaps it was before that, when he’d shown her the kind of passion most women could only dream of.
Or perhaps even sooner, when he first began instructing her in how to kindle a man’s ardor. At the start of their lessons, she had never dreamed she would be opening her heart to unexpected love with her arousing tutor.
“Yes,” she murmured finally. “I have feelings for him.”
“If so, then why did you end your engagement?”
“Because he could never love me in return.”
Haviland gave her an odd look. “Are you sure about that?”
“Quite sure.”
“Does Arden know how you feel about him?”
“No,” she said despondently.
“Then you should tell him.”
Roslyn shook her head. “There would be no point.”
“Loath as I am to aid a rival,” Haviland said, an edge of amusement lacing his voice, “I suppose I must. I think you’re gravely mistaken about Arden’s feelings for you, Miss Loring. In fact, I would guess that he loves you a good deal.”
She jerked her head up again. “Why would you think so?”
“Because he sent me here to propose to you.”
Her heart wrenched, while her stomach suddenly felt filled with lead. Fighting a sick, hollow sensation, Roslyn could barely form a rasping reply. “He told you to propose to me? I should think that would prove just the opposite—that he does not love me.”
“No, sweetheart,” Haviland said gently. “Arden was willing to give you up to ensure your happiness. He’s making a noble sacrifice on your behalf. I think that shows exactly how much he loves you.” Haviland’s mouth curved. “In truth, he threatened my life if I failed to make you happy after we were wed. But I can see now that I never stood a chance. Your happiness lies with Arden, not with me.”
She stared at him in disbelief. How could Drew love her if he had given up any claim to her? Was he truly trying to be noble, hoping to make her happy? Was it possible that Drew loved her?
“You should tell him how you feel,” the earl repeated.
Roslyn could barely hear for her chaotic thoughts. What if she told Drew of her love? What then? Would he still want to marry her? And if so, what would her answer be? Did she dare risk wedding him?
She could wind up facing the same kind of pain Winifred had endured all the years of her marriage. She and Drew could end up battling bitterly with each other, destroying whatever tender feelings they shared now and turning passion to hate.
Yet did she really have a choice? If she hoped to achieve her heart’s desire, she had to risk having it shattered. If she hoped to have a chance at happiness with Drew, she had to be willing to give up her impossible notions of a perfect, idealistic marriage for something that was real and honest and strong and lasting.
She had no choice. Because she had no future without Drew. No possibility of happiness. He filled the emptiness inside her, made her feel complete.
She didn’t know if she could ever mean that much to him. Didn’t know if he could return her love, but she knew she had to take the risk.
The thought that Drew might never love her the way she did him left Roslyn shaken, but she had to try. If he didn’t love her yet, she would have to make him love her. She could use the tricks of seduction he had taught her, which she had never really employed—
Realizing that Haviland was watching her silent debate, Roslyn suddenly shook herself. It was beyond rude to be plotting her pursuit of Drew when the earl stood before her.
“Thank you, my lord,” Roslyn said, her voice uneven. “I will take your advice and tell Arden how I feel.”
Haviland’s smile held regret as he took her hand and brought it to his lips. “It will be my great loss.”
Warmth rose to her cheeks at the compliment. “I’m certain you will find a bride who can make you happy.”
“I trust so. I need a wife if I’m to have any hope of stopping my grandmother from hounding me into an early grave.”
There was a glimmer of humor in his eyes, which told Roslyn that she hadn’t wounded him too deeply with her refusal. But of course, she hadn’t, since his heart wasn’t engaged—just as hers was not with him.
Haviland gave her a considering look. “I might be more successful if you would aid my search.”
“You want my help in finding you a bride?” Roslyn asked in surprise.
He grinned that charming, rueful grin of his. “In all honesty, I do. I obviously haven’t managed very well on my own.”
She returned a self-conscious laugh. “I will be happy to consider it, Lord Haviland. But now…if you will please excuse me? I must go to London at once.”
“To see Arden?”
“No, to see a friend.”
She had to speak to Fanny immediately and seek her counsel. Fanny would know how she should proceed in trying to win Drew’s heart—or so Roslyn tried to reassure herself as she went to the bellpull to order the gig readied.
She only prayed she wasn’t too late.