Page 132 of A Gentleman's Wager

“Yes,” he admitted. “And I will regret that choice for the rest of my days. I could attempt to explain myself, tell you that I was in my cups, but it is no excuse.”

“I loved you,” she said through gritted teeth.

A lone tear rolled down her cheek. She roughly swatted it away.

“Hell, don’t cry. Please, don’t cry.” He rose from his knees, ready to swaddle her. She pushed against his chest, but then sagged against him a moment later and sobbed into his collar.

After a minute or two she said something into his chest, but the breathlessness of her sobs made it difficult to catch. “Say that again.”

“It could have been you.”

Wakefield tipped up her chin. Her eyes were strangely luminous, her lips bee-stung from her grief. It made him want to kiss her so badly, but he could not presume to such intimacy.

“It could have been you,” she said again.

“I don’t understand.”

She drew back a fraction, as if the contact between them pained her. “I was chaste. You had every ounce of my love, but that wasn’t enough for you. You left. You didn’t even say goodbye, and then you were with her, and you didn’t even notice me. Do you have any idea how large a hole you carved in my chest?”

He shook his head. It seemed the appropriate thing to do.

“I was empty at first. I couldn’t feel anything, and then… then it made me want to hurt you back.” She shook her head, while her lips drew pinched. “It is nonsensical. That you would even care what I did, given that you had already cast me off, but it felt good to do it all the same. To act. To give to him what should have been yours.”

“Give who? Louisa, what have you done? What are you talking about?”

“My maidenhead.” Her tongue caught momentarily between her teeth. “I bled upon his cock.”

The shock of hearing such words from her lips rendered him mute, while the twin cuts of her vitriol and scorn sliced him as viciously as any sabre. He did not need to ask for the name of the bastard to whom she’d offered herself. It was Pennerley. It was always, bloody Pennerley, right back to their school days. If he had a fancy, an affection, then the marquis would be there, ready to steal it away for no reason besides his own selfish entertainment. If it had been anyone else, anyone at all, then this torment wouldn’t have been nearly so consuming.

Except, that wasn’t true. He’d have hated them just the same. Would have felt the cut just as deeply.

Louisa sniffed, and he noted that her tears had dried upon her skin. She stared at him; nose pinked from weeping and her chin held stubbornly high. The bloom of defiance that had erupted as she’d spoken remained in her cheeks. He didn’t know whether he wanted to yell at her or embrace her.

“Say something,” she demanded.

His throat didn’t want to work. When he managed to force the words out, they skinned his tongue. “You’re right, it does hurt.”

“Then we are even in our pain.”

And wasn’t that just the wretched truth.

Pennerley! That blasted twat-scourer had stolen her innocence. His ears rang so full of anger, it took a moment to realise that she was speaking again. Her words were calmer now. Factual, rather than heated.

“I hated you for what you’d done, but I couldn’t make myself forget you. I’m looking on you now, and I hate you and… It’s vile. I don’t like feeling like this. Like I don’t know which way to turn, for each seems an equal wretched outcome.”

“Louisa, what is it you’re saying?”

“What is it you’re saying, Frederick. You said you aim to make it better, but how?”

His left knee hit the floor so fast the collision made him wince. “Marry me,” he gasped. “I may not have much, but I can give you a life full of love.” He clasped her hands in his. “Louisa, I’ve loved you since you first fell into my arms. That I’ve given you reason to doubt that is something I will flagellate myself with forever, but I pray you won’t allow it to keep us apart. Be mine. Marry me.”

“How will we manage?”

“I don’t know. But we will, and I promise I will work every day to make you the happiest woman—”

She pulled him onto his feet. “Kiss me?”

Wakefield pulled her taut against his body. She whimpered as his lips crushed hers. The tiny mewls from the back of her throat did weird things to his emotions, hence he was painfully erect within seconds and struggling not to crush himself against her.