Page 122 of Almost A Scoundrel

There was only so much a man’s heart could take.

Deerhurst strode from the chamber.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Phaedra stared atDeerhurst’s back until he disappeared from her chamber. She wanted to run after him, but her feet wouldn’t move. They seemed stuck on the fact that Deerhurst had just told her father they would not wed.

“This is a deuced dream I’m never going to wake up from,” her father said. “This is your fault, Portia. Having a man over at night? Brayton of all men? No wonder the child refuses to wed.”

“Do not put the blame on me, Robert. Jack and I both value privacy and discretion.”

Laughable, Phaedra thought.

“Shall we expand on the topic of values? Do you know what they are?” Huntly countered.

“Do not take that tone with me, brother. I’m not a child.”

“You may not be a child but what of your faculties? You’ve lost them all!”

Phaedra sighed. Her mind’s eye was still staring at the door Deerhurst had disappeared through.

“That’s enough,” her mother ordered. “We have plenty to worry about without you two at each other’s throats. We are a family, and we must remain united no matter what happens.”

“Our daughter refuses to marry, Eleanor, despite what’s happened. What do you suppose we do?”

Her mother took her hand, both cold and soft to the touch. “Dear, are you sure you don’t want to marry? The earl seems to care for you a great deal.”

“Deerhurst only cares for—” She stopped.

He only cares for...

Me.

He did care for her; she couldn’t deny that. They’d spent too much time together for her to dismiss his feelings completely. The problem was her sense of betrayal. It was difficult to see past that. But that wasn’t his shortcoming. It was hers.

He had been right.

Oh Lord.

She couldn’t let him leave like this—angry, hurt, disappointed. She’d used her anger to lash out at him and all he’d done was protect her. She shuddered to think what would have happened if he hadn’t come tonight—if he’d done as she’d demanded and stayed away from her.

They’d shared so much together. Kisses. A mad dash. A passionate night.

And she’d turned on him the moment she’d discovered he’d made a mistake. Hadn’t she made plenty over the years? Hadn’t she had enough of mistrust in her life?

Phaedra started for the door and then set off at a dead run after Deerhurst. Behind her, she could hear the calls of her father, her mother’s admonishment, and her aunt’s approval. She dashed down the stairs, through the hall, and out into the garden, where she finally caught up to him.

“Marcus, wait,” she called, stopping to catch her breath. He had stopped as well but didn’t turn around to look at her. Suddenly, she didn’t know what to say. She had pushed him away, now she wanted to pull him a bit closer again. Even she had to admit that a person didn’t do that, not without confusing them both even more.

“Thank you for saving me,” Phaedra said slowly. “I should not have doubted you.”

“Doubted me tonight or for everything else?”

Phaedra hesitated.

“Why did you follow me?” He turned and she almost gasped at the unrestrained torment in his eyes. “I am not fit to breathe in your presence.”

Phaedra shook her head, her heart stumbling over every beat. “I never said that.”