Deceived & Honoured - The Baron's Vexing Wife (Love's Second Chance #7)(11)
As always dressed fashionably, he cut a dashing figure as he looked down at her from his chestnut gelding. His blond hair, cut short to reveal an almond-shaped mole below his right ear, complemented his deep blue eyes that seemed to sparkle whenever he looked at her. “I heard congratulations are in order, Lady Madeline,” he said, a gentle smile on his face. And yet, Madeline thought to see the utter despair that rested in his blue eyes as he forced himself to look at her, to be civil, to hide what that night had done to him as well.
If only things could be different! If only he had been the one to come upon her! If only Lord Ainsworth had not thwarted her plans!
After a few polite words about her upcoming nuptials, the weather and other nonsense, Lord Townsend took his leave. Looking after him, Madeline felt her heart plummet to the ground and shatter into a million pieces as the future she so desired rode out of sight.
Chapter Four ? A Wedding Day
Dimly, Derek recalled Tristan’s wedding day when his friend had stood in front of the tall mirror, staring at his own reflection with a disbelieving scowl on his face. Now, their roles were reversed, and Derek could not help but wonder if this was retribution for a sin he could not recall.
“You look quite handsome, my friend,” Tristan observed, a slight chuckle in his voice, as he regarded Derek with that ever-present smirk planted firmly on his features. “However, I do believe a wedding is a happy occasion. Do try to smile, will you?”
“I doubt she will,” Derek grumbled, unable to focus on anything else but his future wife’s angry glare. Again, and again, he saw it in his dreams or whenever he closed his eyes for even a bare second. It was burned into his memory, a bad omen for things to come.
“Not with you scowling at her,” Tristan snorted. “You are aware that this is not a battlefield, and she is not the enemy, are you not?”
Gritting his teeth, Derek did his best to fight the impulse to punch his friend in the face. “If only it were a battlefield and she the enemy,” Derek mumbled under his breath. “Then at least I would know how to….”
As his voice trailed off, he remembered the daze that had always befallen him when setting foot on a battlefield. In an instance, the world had fallen away. Everything ceased to matter. The only thing he saw was what was right in front of him. Then, he had acted on instinct alone, and it had served him well. With his feelings dulled and his thoughts muted, he had felt detached as though moving through a foggy dream. The horror of the battlefield had hardly touched him, protecting him from being swept away in a mindless fear that would have certainly cost him his life.
Now, he wished he could return to that numb detachment as the thoughts that had plagued him ever since Lord Kingsley’s ball were drilling into his soul, a little deeper every day. Nothing he did, no distraction he tried to conjure, could fight them off or lessen their intensity. And every moment, he found himself thinking of Lady Madeline; these thoughts seemed to be fuelled by a hidden source, receiving new vigour and determination to crush his soul.
Beside him, his friend sighed, all humour suddenly gone from his face. “If you meet her like this,” he began, compassion ringing in his voice, “you will frighten her.”
Derek felt a slight tug at the corner of his mouth. “I doubt that very much.” The very thought of Lady Madeline frightened was ludicrous. “She is not one to cower.”
“Maybe not openly,” his friend insisted. “However, that does not mean she is not scared. After everything that happened, she has every right to feel?”
“Trapped?” Derek demanded, slowly turning around to face his friend with a hard look in his eyes. “Ruined? Because I did what I thought was my right and ignored her wishes? Because I took advantage of her lack of distrust? Because I sought her out when she was vulnerable?”
As he watched him, Tristan’s brows drew down in thought. Then he inhaled, his gaze holding Derek’s. “You are not him.”
Derek scoffed, “I might as well be for all the good I did that night.”
“You did what you did out of concern and compassion,” Tristan insisted, his gaze unwavering. “What Townsend did he did only for himself, his own desires. You are nothing like him.”
Derek drew in a slow breath. Of course, he knew that his motivations differed from Townsend’s. However, he doubted that motivations mattered in the end. After all, a life ruined was still a life ruined, no matter what the motivations had been.
“Come,” Tristan said, clasping a hand on Derek’s shoulder for support. “It is time. You can still worry about this later, and knowing you, I’m certain you will.”
Rolling his eyes, Derek tried to ignore his friend. There were days he could barely tolerate the cheerfulness with which Tristan seemed to go through life. Days when he felt compelled to leave and never return. Back to a world that still made sense…at least to him.
When they entered the little church, Derek could barely hold back the groan that threatened to escape him. For although he himself felt most at ease in a small circle of friends, he doubted that Lady Madeline was afflicted by the same need for solitude. Quite on the contrary, he supposed. Would she not see the small number of guests as an insult to her and the man she had chosen? Or rather the man who had chosen for her? Was this not proof that they were ill-matched and that her future was now bleak at best?