Fleur looked at her plate, though she could not remember how food had got onto it. “How can I eat?” she asked.
“With your knife and fork,” he said. “How does it feel to be free?”
“But where did he go?” she asked. “And why? Why would he let his family think him dead?”
“Undoubtedly for money,” he said. “I would guess he is on the Continent somewhere.”
“And why would Matthew do it?” She frowned. “It was a diabolical plot. And all so that I would hang? Does he hate me so much?”
“You know the answer to that,” he said. “He never had any intention of letting you hang. He wanted you in his power for the rest of your life. He has a strong obsession for you, Fleur.”
“But I have always disliked him,” she said. “How could he have wanted me, knowing that? And knowing that I would hate him for forcing me into such a thing?”
“For some men it is enough to have power over something they desire,” he said. “Sometimes there seems even to be a special thrill about being hated. I don’t know if your cousin is one of those men. I would not have said so from my acquaintance with him at Willoughby. He did not seem demonic. But his actions certainly suggest that he is.”
“I shall not look forward to his coming back home and living close to me again,” she said.
“Fleur.” He reached out and touched her hand. “Do you really expect such a thing? Sir Quentin at this very moment is breathing fire and brimstone. Your cousin is in deep trouble, I promise you. I don’t believe you will have to fear his coming home for a long time to come.”
“Oh,” she said. She looked down at her plate again. “I am not hungry.”
He got to his feet and rang for a waiter to remove the dishes. They were both silent until the task was completed.
“I keep waiting to wake up,” she said. She crossed the room and stood looking down into the empty fireplace. “I was very foolish to run, wasn’t I? I should have gone to the rectory as I had planned to do.”
“But he would have carried out the same plan,” he said, “and perhaps got away with it.”
“Yes,” she said. “I don’t know if anyone else would have guessed the truth. I would not have. Only you. And I would not have met you if I had not run.”
He stood a short distance from her, watching her gaze into the fireplace. “I wish you had not had to suffer so much,” he said quietly. “I wish you had asked me for help, Fleur. I wish I had thought to ask if you needed my help. I wish it had been different.”
“But it was not,” she said.
“No.”
“Why have you done all this for me?” She turned her head to look at him. “Tell me the truth.”
He shook his head slowly.
“I don’t think I could have been more terrified of the devil than I was of you,” she said, “when it was happening and in my thoughts and nightmares afterward. And when you came home to Willoughby and I realized that the Duke of Ridgeway was you, I thought I would die from the horror of it.”
His face was expressionless. “I know,” he said.
“I was afraid of your hands more than anything,” she said. “They are beautiful hands.”
He said nothing.
“When did it all change?” she asked. She turned completely toward him and closed the distance between them. “You will not say the words yourself. But they are the same words as the ones on my lips, aren’t they?”
She watched him swallow.
“For the rest of my life I will regret saying them,” she said. “But I believe I would regret far more not saying them.”
“Fleur,” he said, and reached out a staying hand.
“I love you,” she said.
“No.”
“I love you.”
“It is just that we have spent a few days together,” he said, “and talked a great deal and got to know each other. It is just that I have been able to help you a little and you are feeling grateful to me.”
“I love you,” she said.
“Fleur.”
She reached up to touch his scar. “I am glad I did not know you before this happened,” she said. “I do not believe I would have been able to stand the pain.”
“Fleur,” he said, taking her wrist in his hand.
“Are you crying?” she said. She lifted both arms and wrapped them about his neck and laid her cheek against his shoulder. “Don’t, my love. I did not mean to lay a burden on you. I don’t mean to do so. I only want you to know that you are loved and always will be.”
“Fleur,” he said, his voice husky from his tears, “I have nothing to offer you, my love. I have nothing to give you. My loyalty is given elsewhere. I didn’t want this to happen. I don’t want it to happen. You will meet someone else. When I am gone you will forget and you will be happy.”