A Lady for Lord Randall (Brides of Waterloo)

He closed his eyes, a shadow of pain flickering across his face.

‘That is my doing,’ he said. ‘Mary, let me make it right. My hand—and my heart—are yours. Nothing has changed.’

‘Everything has changed. I know now it would never work.’

There, she had said it.

His eyes were on her face again. ‘Go on.’

She met his glance steadily.

‘I cannot marry you, Randall. It was always an impossible dream, an earl and the daughter of a radical. I was too quick to jump at your proposal and did not think it through. You are a peer of the realm, an ancient order that I cannot support. You are also a soldier and I am opposed to war.’

‘I am well aware of our differences, Mary, but they are not insurmountable—’

‘That is not all,’ she interrupted him. ‘Can you not see what has hurt me most of all? Your lack of trust. You thought I would steal your sword to keep you by my side. You did not question it; you did not come and ask me if I had taken it. You assumed I would stoop to such a trick. That I was selfish enough to put my own desires before everything that you hold dear.’

‘It was wrong of me, I admit it, but will you not give me a chance to put it right?’

‘It cannot be done.’

‘You are certain of that? You have appointed yourself judge and jury and have decided there can be no possibility of our finding happiness together?’

Misery welled up inside her, clogging her throat. She could only shake her head. The silence pressed around them and for Mary it was filled with unshed tears, unspoken words and unuttered, anguished cries.

‘Where will you go?’ he asked at last.

Her wretchedness deepened. He, too, knew it was over and did not attempt to argue.

‘I do not know yet.’

‘Will you tell me, once you have decided?’

‘I think not.’

She wondered if he would press her, make one last attempt to persuade her to stay, but there was a knock at the door and Robbins looked in.

‘It is time for my lord’s laudanum, miss, if you would like me to help you?’

‘Yes, yes, please, Robbins.’

She let the manservant lift Randall’s shoulders while she held the cup to his lips, but all the time the earl’s blue eyes were on her, peering into her soul, seeing the anguish deep inside. When they were alone again he spoke, so quietly she had to lean closer to hear him.

‘I want you to be happy, Mary.’

‘And I you, my lord.’

His hand caught hers, his grip surprisingly strong.

‘When will you leave?’

‘As soon as Robbins no longer needs me to help nurse you. Tomorrow, perhaps. Lieutenant Foster says you are mending well.’

‘Yes, he told me that. Since I have no fever he thinks I may live comfortably with this musket ball in my chest.’ He lay back on the pillows, watching her. ‘But I cannot live comfortably without you, Mary.’

His eyelids begin to droop. The laudanum was taking effect.

She said softly, ‘You will learn to do so, my lord.’