The Luck of the Bride (The Cavensham Heiresses #3)(54)

“How so?”

She grew silent again, and the fire crackled as if encouraging her to continue. She appeared to be lost in her thoughts. He leaned close, and the movement drew her attention back to him.

“March, I can’t protect your family if you don’t tell me more,” he coaxed.

She rose from the chair with an inborn grace that enhanced the lush lines of her body. Her destination was the fireplace where she idly took the poker in hand and jabbed the logs. The flames shot higher. After she was apparently satisfied with her work, she faced him.

“Leyton always has a hunt in early spring. Rupert had planned to present the prize of the foxtail to Faith. It would be unspeakably cruel, and it was a move to hurt not only her, but me.”

Her shoulders had dropped as if she’d been defeated. With a sigh, she studied the grounds of Langham Park from the windows that lined the study’s far wall.

“Go on,” he gently insisted.

“My parents always hosted the hunt for the community. Faith normally trailed after me, but during the hunt one year, she didn’t. Caught up in the excitement, I didn’t bother looking for her. Yet something niggled my conscience, so I searched for her. She was chasing a pup in training for the hunt. As the dog wandered toward the pack, Faith followed, coaxing it away with a piece of bread. Before I could reach her, the Master of the Hunt had blown the horn, and the horses were off. Faith ran behind the hunters but one man lagged behind. He had difficulty controlling his mount. Faith ran in front of them.” Her voice softened until he could barely hear her. “The horse shied and reared up on its hind legs. Faith fell in the commotion, and the horse came down on its front legs.”

“So that’s how she was hurt,” he whispered. He rose and slowly crossed the distance between them. He clasped her hands, ice cold beneath his; he rubbed his thumbs across her palms.

She didn’t say anything for a long while, but her stoic face appeared ready to crack under the guilt, the type that tore souls in half. He’d seen and felt it before himself. The pain colored every aspect of one’s life. It took every ounce of self-control not to sweep her in his arms and protect her.

“I should have followed her. Because of my lack of regard, Faith suffered a broken leg and severe wounds caused by the horse’s shoe. She suffers every day because of my carelessness.” Her words were soft, but it didn’t hide her pain or the fact her actions haunted her.

“I’m sorry,” he said. More than she could ever imagine, he knew her pain and guilt. He lived with it every day also—the gnawing ache of doubting one’s own worthiness to exist in this world. Mrs. Ivers’ hateful words that he was unfit to be his father’s heir were still weapons of torture. The fact he was a simpleton who masqueraded as the heir to a mighty duke, one who loved him dearly, was a heavy burden that sometimes made him numb.

“I’m sorry also.” She dipped her head slightly as if she couldn’t face him. She drew her hands back and clasped them together. “Rupert wants to publicly present her with the prize of the foxtail as a way to humiliate Faith. He obviously hoped to weaken her chances even further for a match.”

“He’ll not bother either of you again, I promise.” If he could, he’d consume her guilt as his own. It would add little to his overwhelming burden, but it’d release her to live a happy life, one she deserved after all the heartache she’d had to bear.

She raised a dubious eyebrow. “Careful, I may hold you to that promise. He’s like a slow toxic poison, but I can’t refuse to see him. He’s really the only family we have left.” She blinked several times as if to clear her thoughts.

“Trust me, March,” he said.

She frankly assessed him with a sharp gaze.

“I don’t know if I can,” she murmured. “I’ve been on my own for so long. It’s difficult to release any of the responsibility. It’s like a carefully constructed bridge. If I pull off one plank, I’m afraid the entire structure will fall.”

“The guilt and grief you’re experiencing can be harmful if you don’t try to unburden some of it. We all experience grief in one way or another. It keeps us from reaching our potential if we allow it to become too heavy. Your sister is happy and receiving medical care.” He let out his breath.

Her intelligent eyes missed little. “Do you have any experience with such guilt and grief?”

For a moment, he believed she saw every fault he’d tried so hard to hide. “Of course, I’m human. It’s part of our being.” It was imperative that he turn the conversation to other matters before he confessed how flawed he really was. “Now, I’d like to discuss last night.”

She immediately stepped away. “You don’t have to explain. The magic of last night caught us both unaware. Let’s not mention it again.”

Her dismissal burned through him as if someone had pressed a red-hot anvil against his chest. He’d not allow her to withdraw from him, not after all they’d shared. “Last night was a joy for me, one that doesn’t occur that often. I despise society events, even ones my own mother hosts. But nothing would have kept me away from celebrating the night with you and your family.” He grasped her chin in his fingers and encouraged her to look at him. He wanted her to see his sincerity. “For selfish reasons, I wanted to see you in that dress. I wanted to dance with you.”