She couldn't dispute that a scandal was likely, Aurora reflected.
When she remained silent, Geoffrey searched her face. "Mother expects our marriage to take place shortly, but this complicates matters. But once an annulment is granted… I want you to know, Aurora, if you wish for our marriage to go forward, I… would be honored to be your husband."
She felt a pang of dismay. "Geoffrey, you don't have to make such a sacrifice for my sake."
His expression suddenly grew cool. "Perhaps it would be a sacrifice for you rather than me. It would be understandable if you didn't wish to marry a cripple."
"Geoffrey, don't… Please don't say that. You aren't a cripple."
"But neither am I a whole man."
"Of course you are a whole man. Losing an arm doesn't make you any less the dear person I've always cared for."
His expression remained strangely solemn.
Then suddenly he shut his eyes and raised his hand to his temple, as if in blinding pain. "These headaches…"
"Perhaps you should sit down," she said urgently, putting an arm around his waist.
"Yes." He allowed her to assist him over to a chair and sank down heavily.
"If you don't mind… I would like to rest." He sounded short of breath. "My stamina… fades after a very short time and leaves me weak as a mouse."
"Yes, of course. I will let you be alone. May I fetch you something before I go? A cool compress? Some wine? Laudanum?"
"Thank you, no. Laudanum only fogs my mind more."
"Very well, then…"
Before she could turn away, though, he took her hand in his, gazing up at her with his blue eyes. "I won't desert you, Aurora."
"Thank you, Geoffrey," she barely whispered. "But please… don't worry about this. Just concentrate on getting well. We can settle our future when you are feeling better."
Nodding, he leaned his head back and shut his eyes. With all her heart, Aurora wished there was something more she could do to comfort him.
Leaving the library, she walked slowly down the hall, dimly aware of a sweeping sense of desolation. She couldn't abandon Geoffrey now, she knew. It would be a final betrayal. No matter what her feelings were for Nicholas, she couldn't simply walk away from her childhood friend to start a new life in America with another man. She couldn't hurt Geoffrey that way. She would have to remain in England. She would have to ask Nicholas to seek an annulment…
She was so preoccupied with her bleak thoughts that she didn't hear Harry racing down the stairs until he was almost upon her.
"Rory! Rory!" Ignoring her start, he came to a skidding halt on the checkered tile floor and flung his arms around her joyously. "Can you be
lieve the glad news? Geoffrey is alive! Now you will be my sister and you will live with us and we can ride together every day."
Aurora managed a faint smile, but inside, she was aching. She had thought her choice was difficult before, but now, no matter what her decision, she would hurt one of the two men who claimed to love her.
"You have the Devil's own luck, Nick," Lucian Tremayne, Earl of Wycliff, said with amusement. "When I returned to London three days ago and read your message, saying you were alive and had assumed Brand's identity… well, I don't recall ever receiving a more pleasant shock. I can still scarcely believe my eyes. To think, even the British navy couldn't kill you."
"It was a near thing," Nicholas replied soberly as he stared down into his brandy glass.
"I regret I was out of the country when you arrived in England."
Nick shrugged. "I'll forgive you, Luce, if you'll forgive me for commandeering one of your schooners."
"Don't mention it. You would have done the same for me, had I found myself facing the hangman. We held a memorial service in your honor, were you aware? I invited half the ton and made all my stuffy relatives attend. Solely for appearance's sake, you understand. A public show of support for your widow. Now I'm sorry I went to all that expense for naught."
Hearing the affection in his cousin's jest, Nick glanced up. Lucian was tall and lithely built, with dark, curling hair and lean, aristocratic features that were barely saved from arrogance by a ready half smile. Usually Nicholas enjoyed their male camaraderie. In this instance, however, he was in no mood to match wits with Lucian or endure his cousin's good-natured ribbing.
Setting down his brandy glass, he rose and went to stand at the French window, staring out. By now Aurora would have spoken to her former betrothed. Had she come to any decision? It was possible – even likely – that seeing March again could sway her…