Page 16 of Secrets of the Heart

“With you! You know I want to be with you!”

“Then what does wealth matter? I will work. Lord Muggeridge told me only last week that he needed an aide. I know he would hire me. There is no shame in honest work.”

“Of course not.”

“And knowing that I would be coming home at night to you would make it all worthwhile.” His dark eyes shone down at her with love.

Rachel gazed back at him, her heart filled with emotion. She ignored the small cold voice of practicality, listening only to the pounding of her heart, seeing only the sweet love that shone in Anthony’s eyes. It was nothing like the fierce fire that had leaped to life in Michael’s gaze that evening. Anthony was sure and safe, and the warm, pure glow she felt when she looked into his face was nothing like that breathless twist of sensation that had curled through her when Michael kissed her. Love was what was important, she reminded herself. She was not the mercenary sort who would marry for money.

She thought of making that long walk down the church aisle, everyone watching her, giving her entire life over to a man whom she did not love, a man who was little more than a stranger to her. “But everyone is expecting me to—”

“Damn what they expect of you!” Anthony rejoined. “What is important is what you expect of you. You are too fine a lady, too gentle and good, to marry for money! Please…I cannot stand by and let you give yourself to a man who—”

“No, you are right. I cannot do it!” Rachel cried, panicky at the thought.

“Then come with me. We shall be happier than you could ever be immured in some castle married to a man you barely know, no matter what his title. Give yourself over to love.”

For a moment Rachel hesitated. Then she flung herself into his arms. “Yes!” she cried, feeling as if a great weight had been lifted from her. “Yes! I will go with you.”

He put her up on his horse behind him, and together they rode through the night. She was blissfully happy at first, clinging to Anthony’s strong back and thinking only of the joy that awaited her. It wasn’t until she stood in the courtyard of the inn in the village, waiting while Anthony tried to arrange for a post chaise for them, that reality began to sink in. She felt like a criminal, lurking out there in the dark because it would be too scandalous to let anyone see her, and the feeling tainted her joy.

They had to continue on his horse, for the inn had had no carriage to lease, and it was slow going with the double load. As they rode, she thought about what she had done and what would happen the next morning when Michael and her family discovered that she was gone. It occurred to her that she had not even left them a note. Would they think that something had happened to her? Be frightened and set out on search parties?

Her guilt and unease grew, until by the time they stopped at the inn in the next village, she was beginning to realize the enormity of what she had done. She sat huddled in the private dining room, chilled through and through from the night air and numbly tired, while Anthony tried to convince the innkeeper to have a post chaise prepared for them. She could see in the innkeeper’s eyes his doubts about Anthony’s story, as well as her propriety, and she realized how she must look to him—how she would look to everyone. She wanted to cry; she wanted to turn and flee back to Westhampton.

Then everything grew even worse, for her father and Michael walked through the door. She jumped to her feet, fear flooding her at the sight of her furious father. He began to berate her, driving home what she already had begun to know in her heart: the scandal of eloping would haunt her for the rest of her life. And the stain of it would spread to the rest of her family, too—her parents, even Caroline and Richard, though they had done nothing wrong. She had failed to do her duty to her family. Darkwater would crumble into ruins; her parents would have to live entirely on Richard’s generosity.

But worse than her father’s words was the look on Michael’s white, set face. For the first time she understood what a disservice she had done him. He cared for her. She did not know how much—obviously her proud lineage and the fact that she was one of the reigning and most sought after beauties of London made her an appropriate match for him, but there must have been some affection or desire on his part, as well, to have made him willing to overlook the obvious disadvantage of her family’s financial situation. Rachel saw now, in the pain that lay in his quiet gray eyes, that his feelings had been deeper than she knew. Her elopement was a slap in the face to him, a blatant announcement that he meant nothing to her, and though she had not intended it, she could see that what she had done cut Michael deeply.

Moreover, it would involve him in a tremendous scandal. Through no fault of his own, he would be exposed to the ridicule of Society, an object of amusement and scorn for having been left at the altar. Michael had been nothing but kind to her, Rachel knew, and she realized how selfish and wicked she had been to treat him this way. The fact that she had not wanted or intended to hurt and shame him didn’t really matter; the fact was that she had, and out of sheer selfishness.

Guilt swamped her, and, oddly enough, she felt even worse when Michael offered to make everything all right by marrying her anyway. The very kindness of his offer seemed to emphasize the enormity of her own selfish wrongdoing.

Tearful and ashamed, she rode back to Westhampton with Michael and Ravenscar, slipping into the house quietly to escape detection. The whole way, Michael never looked at her or spoke to her.

The next morning, she sat quiet and subdued under another one of her father’s lectures. Then he turned her over to her mother, saying he washed his hands of her.

“It is the only way Lord Westhampton can save his own name from scandal,” Lady Ravenscar told her. “That is the only reason he swallowed his pride, I’m sure. Still…there is many a man who would not have done so.” She sighed. “I cannot imagine what possessed you to act so stupidly. No doubt you will have to spend the rest of your life trying to get him to forgive you.” Again she sighed, looking at Rachel with a mingling of puzzlement and, Rachel thought, a touch of pity. “Well, it is probably exactly what you deserve for behaving so foolishly. I cannot think where you acquired such a lack of judgment.”

“Nor can I,” Rachel responded wryly. No one else in her family would have behaved so, she knew. Even Caroline, who was the closest to her in all the world, had been aghast when she learned what Rachel had done. Dev, of course, would never have agreed to marry to please his parents in the first place.

Lady Ravenscar glanced at her sharply, unsure whether her daughter was being inappropriately flippant. Rachel was saved from having to make a response by a tap upon the door, followed by the entrance of one of the parlor maids.

The girl gave them a polite curtsey and delivered her message. “Lord Westhampton requests Miss Aincourt’s presence in the conservatory, if you please.”

Lady Ravenscar looked alarmed, and as soon as the maid exited the room, she turned her worried gaze on Rachel. “You don’t suppose he is going to take back his offer to continue with the wedding, do you?”

A frisson of fear ran down Rachel’s back. “No,” she said stoutly, as much to reassure herself as her mother. “Lord Westhampton would not go back on his word.”

“You had better hope so.” Her mother looked her over critically, shaking Rachel’s skirt out on one side and picking a small piece of lint from the shoulder of her dress. “In any case, I trust you will be appropriately apologetic.”

“I will.” The weight of her guilt was still like a physical burden upon her shoulders.

Rachel went down the stairs and along the spacious hallway to Westhampton’s study. The door stood open, and Lord Westhampton was inside, his back to her. Rachel paused for a moment, steeling herself, then stepped inside.

He turned at the sound of her approach, and their eyes met, then dropped quickly away. “Miss Aincourt. Thank you for joining me.”

He gestured toward one of the chairs, and as Rachel walked toward it, he closed the door and came back to where she sat and took a seat across from her.