A Scandalous Affair (The Merry Widows 3)

“As was I,” Hartwell pointed out.

Her eyes narrowed. “I doubt that.”

“No, he speaks the truth. He was defending you.” Huxley spoke, his voice muffled, his jaw already swollen. “He didn’t like what I said about you and demanded I take it back.”

“What did you say?” she asked her brother.

“You don’t want to know,” Camden answered for him.

She returned her gaze to him, her expression pained. “It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. We’ll be on our way, then. Sorry to be a burden, my lord.”

Daphne helped her brother to his feet, her demeanor cold yet tinged with a vulnerability that touched Camden deeply. He’d done this to her. Hurt her, made her run from him because she believed he didn’t want her.

He needed to rectify this immediately.

“Daphne.” He paused when he saw the deadly glare her brother gave him, looking especially fierce with the darkening bruise on his face. “Lady Pomeroy. D-don’t go. Not yet. I need to speak with you.”

“There is nothing left to say.” She tilted her nose in the air, all haughty noblewoman, and he couldn’t help but admire her spirit.

“There is. I must explain myself. Tell you where I’ve been.” He paused, let his words sink in. “I never meant to hurt you,” he added softly.

She sighed, threading her arm through her brother’s. She was leaving and wasn’t going to give him a chance to explain. “Well, you did, Camden. And quite well, I might add. I’m afraid I cannot dally any longer. I must find my brother assistance.”

Daphne made to leave the room with her brother at her side but Camden stepped in front of the both of them, desperation clawing at his gut. “Let me summon my butler. He’ll take care of your brother, offer him the utmost care so we may speak in private.”

As if he heard his name mentioned, the butler appeared, the picture of graciousness while he approached Huxley with the proper amount of sympathy. He disentangled the young man from his sister’s grip, leading Huxley out of Cam’s study with nary a protest until the two of them were left completely alone. They stared at each other as if a great distance yawned between them.

When in reality, they were separated by m

ere feet.

“Daphne.” He took one step toward her and she took a step back. Did she need the distance between them? That discovery hurt. “You can’t begin to know how sorry I am for fleeing so quickly.”

“Where did you go, Hartwell?”

He frowned. Her use of his formal name hurt even more. “Did you not receive my note? I arrived home the morning I left you and was told upon my entrance that the village not far from my country estate had been completely flooded. The people who live there work on the estate. They were losing their homes, everything they had. I couldn’t just abandon them and hope for the best. I made hasty arrangements and went to my estate. And ended up spending nearly a fortnight assisting them.”

“Oh.” She dropped her gaze to her hands, which were clutched in front of her, her fingers twisting around each other. “There was no note from you, Cam. I never received any sort of note that let me know you were all right.”

She’d worried about him. That small but telling revelation gave him a glimmer of hope. “How strange. I swear, I sent you a letter, had it sent to Huxley’s home straight away.” He shook his head, wondered where it had disappeared to. No wonder she was so angry. She believed he’d abandoned her completely. “You must believe me. I should’ve sent another note. I should’ve kept in constant contact with you and let you know of my status but I didn’t, and for that I am incredibly sorry. I didn’t mean to make a muck of things. I’m not very good at this.” He was rather terrible at it. And she was most likely tired of hearing that for an excuse.

“No, you’re not.” A little smile curved her lush mouth. “And you did make a muck of it, I’ll have you know. My brother was prepared to murder you where you stood.”

“He came barreling into my home, ready to beat me to a bloody pulp. I had to defend myself.” He was still surprised he did it.

“And you certainly did, didn’t you?” Her gaze lifted and met his. “Are you considered a hero now? Amongst the people in the village?”

He shrugged, a little embarrassed. He certainly didn’t feel like a hero. “I did what needed to be done.”

“And what you did was very brave.” She took a step toward him, then another, and he caught a whiff of her sweet fragrance. He breathed deeply, hoped like hell she didn’t notice.

“I need your forgiveness,” he whispered brokenly.

Her delicate brows rose. “Why?”

“Because I cannot live with myself if I don’t have it.”

She remained quiet as she approached, not speaking until she finally stopped just in front of him, her eyes locked with his. “I shall give it to you if you give me something in return.”