“Why the devil are you weeping? I expected you to be happy.”
“I am happy. I am ecstatic. After all this time … I never thought this day would ever come. I only wish that Papa were still alive to see it.”
When she sent Ash a tremulous smile of sadness and regret, he looked relieved. Despite their audience on the hillside, he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his chest. His strength was palpable, surrounding her, comforting her.
However, Ash being Ash, he couldn’t resist provoking her. “I never thought you of all people would turn into a watering pot, vixen.”
Maura gave a shaky laugh against his coat front.
Tender amusement sounded in his voice. “I told you that you could trust me, did I not?”
“Yes, I believe you did.” He hadn’t given up, even when she had begged him to. She owed him a debt she could never repay, Maura knew.
“I am so very grateful to you, Ash,” she murmured. “I don’t know how I could possibly thank you.”
He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “You needn’t thank me, love. It is satisfaction enough, seeing Deering get his just reward.”
His declaration reminded her just how they had come to be in this situation in the first place. The realization served to jolt Maura out of her daze and bring her sharply back to reality.
She had resolved that once her father’s name was cleared, she would settle her uncertain future with Ash … and now that time was at hand. To be fair, she couldn’t hold him to their temporary betrothal. He had only proposed in the first place because he’d wanted to defeat Deering. Now that goal was met, there was no more reason for them to continue the pretense of an engagement.
“Come, Thomas will drive you home,” Ash said, interrupting her thoughts. Releasing her from his embrace, he turned her toward his coach. “Quinn is right—we need to celebrate tonight.”
Maura, however, doubted she would feel much like celebrating. Not when she had to give Ash his freedom.
Suddenly her throat was clogged with tears for reasons that had little to do with her father’s vindication. She should be enraptured just now, since this was a profoundly joyous occasion. Yet as she accompanied Ash to his carriage, all Maura could think about was how badly she wished their betrothal could be real, and how unlikely it was that her wish would ever be granted.
During the entire drive home, Maura argued with herself about when and how to resolve her future with Ash. As a gentleman, he could not honorably end their betrothal. Thus, she would have to be the one to do it, or at least give him the chance to withdraw his formal offer of marriage. But the pressing question was, should she broach the subject as soon as Ash returned home?
Her stomach churned with anxiety as she considered his possible responses. In order to protect her, he might decide to continue their deception a while longer, until the conflict with Deering was unequivocally settled and he actually left the country. Or, since Ash had claimed her virginity, he might even offer to marry her for real in an attempt to be noble.
Maura knew she had to make the same effort at nobility. She didn’t want to trap Ash into matrimony or force him to be shackled unwillingly to her for the rest of his life.
He would likely leap at the offer of his freedom, Maura feared. He didn’t love her. He had won her heart so effortlessly—in scarcely more than a week, in fact—but she hadn’t won his.
Admittedly, a tiny piece of her foolish heart held out hope that perhaps in time, with a great deal of luck, Ash might one day change his mind about her and come to see her differently, as something more than an intriguing experiment or a pleasurable game or his chosen lover of the moment. But the sensible part of her knew she was only indulging in fanciful dreams.
Idiotic, pointless dreams.
Ash wasn’t the kind of man to fall in love. He frequently called her “love,” but that was the same casual endearment he used with his sister and his cousin Skye, and no doubt with numerous other women in a manifestation of his rakish charm. Such endearments were meaningless in revealing the true state of a man’s heart.
She would be wise to crush her foolish hopes, Maura chided herself. She didn’t dare let herself believe in happy fairy-tale endings when doing so would likely result in devastating disappointment.
Yet despite her vow to be pragmatic, she couldn’t keep knots of dread from tightening her stomach at the necessity of parting from Ash now that there was no justification for remaining with him.
When Maura arrived home, she inquired after Katharine’s whereabouts and discovered her breakfasting with the rest of the Wilde clan—Skye, Lord Cornelius, Lady Isabella, and Lord Jack—in a family gathering.
They all rose from the table at Maura’s entrance, but Katharine was the first to ask with a trace of apprehension, “What news have you, Maura? We have been anxiously waiting to hear the outcome of the duel.”
“It has been called off,” she announced, which elicited varying expressions of relief from the company. The elders exhaled audibly while Skye murmured, “Thank heaven.”
Katharine also blew out her breath, but then said rather cheerfully, “I confess, I was not overly afraid for Ash. This is not the first duel in our family, and my hair would be gray if I worried every time my reckless brothers or cousins”—she directed a pointed look at Jack—“did something dangerous or rash.”
“I was not in the least worried,” Jack commented with a provoking grin. “As I told Miss Collyer last evening, Ash can take care of himself.”
“You were concerned for him, too, dear brother,” Kate retorted in a ribbing tone. “Why else would you have joined us at this early hour, long before you usually rise?”
“Perhaps because your chef sets a fine breakfast table?”