“Will she ever forgive me?” Caleb asked Lady Cassandra. He’d wanted to go after Mary and make her listen. But her friend had warned against it, and he had reluctantly agreed to take her advice.

“I don’t know,” Lady Cassandra said. “More tea, Lord Griffin?”

Griffin resumed his seat and held his cup toward Cassandra. Resuming his own seat, Caleb leaned back and pinched the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t prone to getting headaches, but one was definitely coming on right now.

“There has to be something I can do,” he muttered, voicing his most desperate thought in spite of its futility. “If I can only make her see that all I wanted was to be an ordinary man again.”

“But you’re not ordinary, and you never will be,” Lady Cassandra said. “And while I will admit that you owed us nothing when we were just three women who happen to own the house on which you are working, you should have told Mary when you decided to pursue her in earnest.”

“I tried to but then she kissed me and I got carried away and then we argued and well…here we are,” Caleb said without even bothering to hide the miserable state he was in.

“Oh Christ,” Griffin murmured. “You’ve been romancing Miss Clemens.” He shook his head and laughed even though there was nothing amusing to be found in this awful situation. “No wonder she’s so upset.”

“She wouldn’t be if you’d kept your mouth shut, Griffin.” Caleb gave his brother a meaningful look. “Did Aldridge not tell you I left London for the sole purpose of seeking anonymity?”

“Well, yes. But I don’t think either of us expected you to keep your true identity secret from his sister or her friends when all have a similar situation to yours.”

Caleb stared at his brother and saw Lady Cassandra doing the same. “I beg your pardon?”

Griffin looked at them each in turn. His expression grew increasingly befuddled. “Am I the only one here who has noticed that each of you has sought to escape the aristocratic world for one reason or other. My point is these women are of your social class, Caleb. The idea of you hiding your identity from them just seems kind of pointless.”

“They wouldn’t have let me stay if they’d know who I really was.” In the years that had passed since his last encounter with Griffin, Caleb had forgotten how dense his brother could be.

“Really?” Griffin didn’t sound convinced. He looked to Lady Cassandra. “Would you really have turned away Aldridge’s friend?”

“Of course not,” Lady Cassandra said. “This house belongs to my brother. My friends and I live here at his discretion, so if he were to let any friend of his stay here, we would hardly have been in a position to deny the request.”

“You see!” Griffin’s eyes gleamed while his smile looked annoyingly smug.

Caleb pressed his lips together and scowled. “Miss Clemens would never have given me a second glance if she’d known who I really was,” he argued.

Griffin shrugged. “Perhaps you’re right. But maybe you’re not. In any event, she’s not giving you a second glance now, that much is certain. If you’d been honest from the start, however, she might have grown to like you eventually, regardless of whatever prejudice she has toward your title. And then it would have been because she’d gotten to know the man you truly are instead of whatever fabrication you’ve been offering her since you arrived here.”

Caleb blinked. Perhaps he’d misjudged Griffin’s wisdom.

“He does have a point,” Lady Cassandra interjected.

“I didn’t offer any fabrication,” Caleb protested. “I’m still the same man she’s been getting to know these past two months.”

“With one important distinction being that you’re now a duke worth more than fifty thousand pounds as opposed to the penniless laborer who fixes roofs for a living,” Griffin said. “Ironically, most women I’ve known would so much rather have the former instead of the latter. Most would be overjoyed to discover your newly elevated position.”

Not Mary though. “Miss Clemens is different.”

Lady Cassandra grinned. “That she is, Your Grace, but you mustn’t lose heart just yet. Not if you truly want her, though I would like to ask about your intentions before we go any further.”

Caleb smiled because here at last was a question he could answer without hesitation. “I mean to marry her, my lady.”

Lady Cassandra raised an eyebrow. “Indeed? And has Miss Clemens given any indication that she would be willing to consider such a possibility?”

“Well, she…I mean…that is…” He cleared his throat, ignored Lady Cassandra’s deepening frown and Griffin’s low chuckle, and decided to try again. “Not in exact terms, but—”

“You see,” Lady Cassandra said, “Miss Clemens was put off marriage five years ago when your brother decided she was good enough to flirt with and kiss but not to wed.”

“He was an ass,” Caleb grumbled. “At least where Miss Clemens was concerned.”

“Unfortunately, he has also made your quest for Miss Clemens’s hand so much harder. And then on top of it all, you turned out to be everything she has spent five years running away from: a man who cannot be trusted.”

“I wanted to tell her,” Caleb said. “I was prepared to do so, but she stopped me and…” He pushed his fingers through his hair and stared down at the carpet. “She thinks I played her for a fool now, doesn’t she?”

“Wouldn’t you, if you were in her position?”

As much as he hated it, he had to nod in agreement. “I believe I would.”

“So then the question remains,” Lady Cassandra said after a pause. She waited for him to meet her gaze before continuing. “What are you going to do about it?”

The immediate answer that came to mind was, “I’ve no idea.” Instinct told him to chase her as fast and as furiously as he could muster, but common sense warned against doing so. “She needs time to come to terms with what she has learned,” he said, unsure if what he was going to do was the right way forward. “Perhaps it would be easier for her if I went back to London.”

Lady Cassandra’s eyes widened. “You mean to leave?”

“Absence does make the heart grow fonder,” Griffin said as if reciting Shelley or Byron.

Caleb cast him a frown to which Griffin responded with a mischievous smirk. “Why did you come to find me?” he asked. “I can only assume Mama requested you do so because you would not have left London for any other reason. Not after years of being away. There would be too much catching up to do, too many friends to see.” For while Caleb had always enjoyed time away in the country, Griffin had yearned for the city, while Devlin had felt himself drawn to the sea.

Predictably, Griffin dipped his head in acquiescence. “You are correct, dear brother. Mama was concerned about you and rightfully so, considering she hasn’t heard a word from you since you left with no indication of when you’d return. And Aldridge refused to give you up until I got back. Had to threaten him with a duel before he agreed to tell me the truth.” Griffin fidgeted with his sleeve. “I assured him you’d forgive him.”

Caleb snorted. “Not very likely, considering the result of his divulgence.”

“You cannot blame my brother for your own idiocy,” Lady Cassandra told him bluntly. “This entire mess is of your own creation, Camberly, so I ask you again, what will you do to fix it?”

“As we discussed, leaving might be for the best,” Caleb said.

Lady Cassandra’s mouth dropped open. “As we discussed?” She gave an incredulous laugh. “It’s no wonder you’re rubbish at this when you make assumptions so easily. We discussed nothing. You had an idea, and I have yet to decide if it is any good or not.”

Caleb sighed. “If I stay, I will be the problem that refuses to go away. Mary will be forced to face me whether she wants to or not, which is part of the reason why she ran from London in the first place. But if I go, I give her control. She will have the power to decide whether she wishes to see me again and when.”

“That…” Lady Cassandra stared back at him for a lengthy moment. “I think that’s very thoughtful and honorable of you, Camberly. I also believe it could work in your favor and win back her trust, if done correctly.”

Caleb leaned in, as did Griffin. “What do you propose?” they both asked in unison.

The edge of Lady Cassandra’s mouth lifted into a devious little grin. “A courtship unlike any other.”

Emotionally exhausted, Mary started back toward the house, fishing rod in hand. She wasn’t sure what she would say to the duke when she saw him again since nothing she’d thought of so far could properly convey her heartache. Worst of all, she feared there was nothing he could ever say or do to make things right between them again.

Wishing he’d left the house while simultaneously hoping he was still inside, Mary entered through the kitchen, returned the shawl she’d borrowed to the chair on which she’d found it, and approached the parlor. She still had no answers when she opened the door and almost collided with Cassandra, who was coming the opposite way with the tea tray in her hands.

“Oh. There you are,” Cassandra said, steadying herself against the door frame. “I was just thinking I’d come out and look for you if you weren’t back in another ten minutes.”

“I needed some time to think and to simply process everything that’s happened this afternoon.”

“Of course. That makes perfect sense.” Cassandra stepped past her and walked toward the kitchen.

“I see His Grace has left the parlor,” Mary said with a quick glance inside the room. “And he took his brother with him, I take it?”

“Indeed he did.”

Mary couldn’t believe it. “They can’t both stay in that small cottage. There’s not enough space, never mind an additional bed.”

“Oh, you needn’t worry about any of that any longer, Mary. His Grace and his brother have both returned to London, so everything can finally go back to normal.”

“But…” Mary’s stomach twisted in a most unsettling way. It couldn’t be true. Surely. “He has not completed his work in the attic yet, Cass.”

“Actually, he says he did so last week and was only staying on because it was hard for him to leave you. But then you said what you said and well, here we are.”

“But…he didn’t even bid me farewell.”

“He wanted to,” Cass said, “but with the weather being what it is and darkness sure to set in within the next couple of hours, they wanted to be on their way, so I said I’d tell you on their behalf.”

Their behalf. Not his.

Mary didn’t like it at all.

“But—”

“That’s three buts in under a minute, Mary.” Cassandra set the tray down and turned to face her. “Are you certain you wanted him to leave?”

“I never said anything about him leaving,” Mary said, surprising herself with the level of her indignation.

“What’s going on?” Emily asked as she poked her head through the doorway. “The children are hoping for warm milk and biscuits, so I’ve come to prepare some.”

“Mary’s having second thoughts about asking the Duke of Camberly to leave,” Cassandra said. She handed Emily a pot to heat the milk in.

“I never…” Mary blew out a breath of frustration and counted to ten. “I never told anyone to leave.”

“It was implied,” Cassandra said.

Emily glanced at Mary as if observing a painting that hadn’t come out right. “Did she not like the part about Mr. Crawford being a duke?”

“Not particularly,” Cassandra said out of the corner of her mouth.

“Because he lied to me,” Mary told them both. She pulled the biscuit tin off the shelf and began placing biscuits on a plate with angry little movements. “He knew I hated his kind, so he deliberately hid it from me.”

“Actually,” Emily said, “he didn’t know that at all when he met you.”

“Very well. He learned of it along the way, but that does not change the fact that he deliberately hid it from me.”

“Do you think there’s a chance that by the time he realized how much he liked you, it was too late to tell you the truth?” Emily asked.

“It’s never too late,” Mary insisted.

Cassandra leaned her hip against the counter. “According to what he has told me, he tried to be honest, but you apparently stopped him.”

“Oh, really?” Mary grimaced. “And when exactly…” A tiny memory surfaced. She swallowed and looked at her friends. “Last night. He was going to tell me last night before we kissed, but I was too impatient. I stopped him.” How on earth could she have forgotten? “When we parted ways, he said we would speak today, that there was much for us to discuss, and I’m now convinced this is what he was talking about.”

“But then his brother showed up and ruined his chance to be honest,” Cassandra said.

Emily poured the milk into the pot and set it on the stove. Stirring the contents, she looked at Mary. “I think you’ve both made mistakes. The question is whether or not they’re too big to forgive.”

Sinking onto a stool, Mary propped her elbow on the counter beside her and leaned her head against her hand. “I honestly do not know. I mean, he lied to me about everything.”

“Are you sure about that?” Cassandra asked. “Or is this your wounded pride talking?”

Mary tried to be objective, and as she did so, she realized something. “Maybe not everything.” She bit her lip and thought back on all the conversations she’d had with Caleb these past two months. “Letting me think he was someone he wasn’t was wrong, although I suppose I can understand why he did it. But when we talked, he was honest. He told me about his time in France, about seeking his father’s validation. I don’t think he lied when he told me which books he preferred or how he wished he could choose the life he wanted instead of the one thrust upon him by fate. All along, I believed him to be the sort of man who would happily flirt with a woman but never consider marrying her. I accepted this. But what if the constant restraint he showed when we were together was the product of fear? Maybe he just wasn’t sure how to deal with the prejudice he knew I would have against him when I eventually learned the truth.” She stared at Cassandra and Emily, who were both watching her closely. “What if he were trying to protect me from getting hurt?”

“So you accepted the idea of him not being the marrying sort,” Cassandra said.

Of course that was the part she would focus on. “It made sense based on a few things he said.”

“What intrigues me is that you contemplated foregoing marriage in favor of having an affair,” Cassandra continued.

“Upon your recommendation, if I may remind you,” Mary told her.

Cassandra nodded. “Yes, but I made that suggestion because I thought you were utterly opposed to the idea of marriage and were facing a long life ahead without knowing what passion can feel like. But you actually took a moment to wonder what it might be like to marry Camberly. Didn’t you, Mary?”

Emily gasped. “Did you really?”

Mary glanced at the ceiling and finally nodded. “For a second or two. Until he refused to have his wicked way with me in the parlor.” Emily and Cassandra both snorted with laughter. “It became quite clear in that moment that he wasn’t the sort of man who robbed a woman of her innocence unless he intended to make her his wife. As you both know, he refused to let things escalate, which can only mean that he had no intention of suggesting a permanent attachment.”

“There are a dozen other reasons why he would refuse such an opportunity, Mary. We’ve been over several of them already,” Emily said, “like the fact that he would not bed you unless he could do so honestly, or how he probably believed you were averse to marriage, which we all know you have been until you met Camberly.”

“I do not wish to be a duchess,” Mary told them both adamantly.

“What if you must in order to be his wife?” Cassandra asked. “Would you be willing to make such a sacrifice if he asked it of you?”

“I…” She could not think let alone speak.

“The question now,” Emily said, “is whether or not you love him enough to forgive the deception and share your life with him.”

Mary winced. “He hasn’t even asked me to do so, and I doubt he ever will now.” She stood and went to the door. “Mr. Crawford is gone forever, and I must accept that. I’m going to see if any of the children are up for a game of cards. I’ll tell them their milk and biscuits are on the way.”

Mary headed into the hallway and paused for a moment to compose herself. Weeping would get her nowhere. So she squared her shoulders, blinked back the tears, and went to the library. The children who awaited her there would help fill the gaping void inside her, but forgetting the man who’d caused it would be another thing altogether.