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she been hoping for a different answer? If so, her time here had made her foolish and overly optimistic. Perhaps it had been her imagination that his voice had softened, just for a moment, as though he, too, wished there could be a different end to this.

      ‘Then all I can say to you is that I am sorry,’ she said, at last. ‘For hurting you and for tricking myself into believing my own lies. I should have admitted all, the day you awakened. I knew, from that moment, that this day would come. The longer I waited, the easier it became to pretend that there was a chance for happiness here. And now you hate me. I do not blame you.’

      He said nothing in response and, in her mind, she cursed herself for wishing that he would offer some sop, to tell her she was wrong about his feelings. ‘Now that we are at an end, I have but two requests.’

      ‘You are not in a position to bargain with me over anything,’ he said, emotionless.

      ‘I know that. I deserve nothing, just as I have told you from the first moment we met. But I know you to be a good man, a kind man, a man of honour. As I said before, my sister had nothing to do with any of this. What I have done, from the first, I did for her.’ She bowed her head. ‘Do what you will with me, but do not punish Margot. At the very least, do not let her fall to the same unfortunate depths I have.’

      He stared at her, without answering. Then he said, ‘Your second request?’

      ‘Do not duel with Montague.’

      Will gave an incredulous laugh. ‘You wish me to spare his life?’

      ‘I wish you to protect your own.’

      He made another disgusted noise. ‘You have no faith in my abilities to defend myself.’

      ‘On the contrary, I have infinite faith in Mr Montague’s ability to turn a situation to his advantage. He will find a way to cheat. And then he will kill you.’ She rose from the chair and sank to her knees before him. ‘I would not see that happen for all the world. Have him arrested and be done with this.’

      ‘They would take you as well,’ he said. ‘Do not think that I can protect you from this, for I do not know if that is possible.’

      ‘Then let them take me,’ she said, taking his hand in hers. When she squeezed it, she felt an answering grip. But there was no sign in his face that it was anything other than a reflex. ‘Since I’ve been with you, I’ve had a lifetime of happiness. But that is over now. I must be punished for what I have done to you and your family. Let me go.’

      It seemed he might not want to, for the grip on her hand was even stronger than it had been. Still, when he spoke, there was no sign of it in his voice. ‘No matter what you might wish, I cannot go back on my word to Montague. If I could offer a challenge, and then take him unawares tonight, I would be no better than he is.’

      ‘If you mean to throw your life away, then what was the point of saving you?’ she said, pulling her hand away to wipe away a tear. ‘If I had not stopped him, he’d have killed you in Bath and I would truly have been a murderer. Now you will be dead and I will have to go on, knowing I am to blame.’

      ‘I am sorry to have inconvenienced you,’ he said. He stood up and stepped around her. ‘I am going to my room. I need to think. I will write to my brother and try to explain any of this.’ He gave a vague gesture, as though it might be possible to draw a sensible version of events out of the air in front of him. Then he added, ‘And I suppose I must think of something to do with your sister. At the very least, I can arrange to send her back to where she came from.’

      It was such a small thing, yet it was more than she could have hoped for. ‘Thank you,’ she said, softly. ‘In return, what do you wish me to do?’

      ‘I have no idea. Nor do I care.’ He gave a half-bow, as though he had rendered her a service of some kind. ‘I am locking the door between our rooms, if that is what you are hinting at. Knowing what I do, I will not sleep easy if it is open. For the rest?’ He shrugged. ‘You are your own woman, Miss de Bryun. You are free of Montague and I no longer want you. What you do now is totally up to you.’

       Chapter Eighteen

      Will stared out of his bedroom watching the sun set through the first of the autumn leaves. It had been a lovely day. That it might be his last was a disappointment. But it could not be helped.

      The righteous anger that had sped his journey home had disappeared like fog in sunlight, at the sight of Justine sprawled helpless before the angry Montague. In that moment, all he could remember was that she was his and she was in danger. Perhaps, tomorrow, she would laugh over his bleeding body and ride away with his killer. Today, in this house, he could only see the pale, beautiful woman who had watched over him as he suffered and came to his bed as though it was the only place she found happiness.

      He should have called the servants, then called Adam and trusted it all to the law. Instead, he had informed his brother, in a terse note that his services would be needed in the morning, as a second. Since he had got no outraged response, he assumed that Adam had not yet returned from the inn.

      Perhaps it was for the best. If Montague was left unwatched, he might decide to cut his losses and run. It would leave only Justine and her sister to deal with. That had best be done at a distance, with lawyers and bank drafts. One look into her beautiful green eyes and he would lose what was left of the common sense he had been so proud of and believe that they had actually been in love.

      He stared at the door connecting their rooms. Despite what he had threatened, he had not locked it against her. Now he was possessed with the thought that she stood on the other side, ready to test the handle. If it opened, he would welcome her to his bed, just as he had every day that they’d lived here. Knowing what he did, it would be bittersweet to have her in his arms. But better that than the empty flavourless existence of a life without her. If she would just open that door and allow him some tattered scrap of pride, he could forgive anything and they would be together again.

      There was a sharp rap upon his door, but it came from the hall and not her room. There was a moment of silence, then another knock, as though the person in the hallway had no time to waste. It was far too bold for a servant, but who else would it be?

      When he opened it, he was surprised to see the younger Miss de Bryun staring up at him. Though nearly as lovely as her sister, Margot’s looks were spoiled by a certain stubborn set of the mouth that promised continual strife to the man who did not let her have her way.

      Without a word, she pushed past him, and sat upon the end of his bed. ‘I need to speak with you, Lord Felkirk,’ she said, swinging her feet impatiently.

      ‘Then it would be far better that we do it in a public room,’ he replied, standing by the open door. Did no one in Justine’s family have an understanding of basic manners? Or was this another seductive trap?

      ‘You are not in a public room,’ she reminded him. ‘You have not come out of this one all day. When I asked after you, the servants told me you were not to be disturbed.’

      ‘It is plain you did not listen to them,’ he said, closing the door and leaning against it.

      ‘I cannot get Justine to talk to me, either,’ Margot said with a frown. ‘She is locked in her bedroom, weeping and writing what I expect is a tragic confession of her imagined sins. And no one will explain to me what is going on.’ She glared at Will as though it was all somehow his fault. ‘I am tired of listening to people who do not really say anything.’

      ‘Perhaps they do not speak to you because what is happening is none of your business,’ he said with a pointed look.

      Margot’s lips pursed with a stubbornness that almost diminished her loveliness. ‘How would you know if it was my business or not? You hardly know me at all. I have no family but Justine and Mr Montague. Since they are two out of three of the persons involved in this problem, that is a clear majority.’

      ‘Montague?’

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