Page 148 of Rogue of My Heart

“What about our second dance? We will miss it,” she protested.

“I would prefer to have you alone.” He brought his hand to rest over hers, giving a gentle squeeze.

Her cheeks blazed at the public show of affection. “What if someone notices our absence?”

“I have taken care to ensure your reputation remains intact. A chaperone awaits us.” He nodded at the elderly lady stationed by the doors.

She sighed, wishing she could argue further. However, the lady was a widow and would make a perfectly suitable chaperone. “Very well. Some fresh air sounds appealing,” Rebecca conceded. She took some comfort in the fact there would be a breeze to cool her burning skin.

He led her across the threshold and out into the open night air. She glanced over her shoulder to ensure the elderly lady followed. “Will you be departing for London on the morrow?”

“I wish to speak to you about that very matter.” He turned her toward a path where torches cast their warm glow on the hedgerow.

The implications made her throat tighten. She did not want him to leave, but things would be easier if he did. The sooner he left, the sooner their hearts could heal. Tears welled in her eyes. She blinked against them, refusing to show weakness.

He brought them to a stop near a torch and turned to her. His eyes shone in the firelight as he took her hand in his. “Lady Rebecca, I have grown very fond of you during our brief acquaintance, and I believe you feel the same for me.”

The tenderness in his gaze coupled with his actions alarmed her. She pulled her hand back, but he held tight.

“Dare I say love has blossomed between us?” he stroked his thumb over her hand as he spoke.

She wanted to shake her head, deny his words. Her heart demanded she confess her love, while her mind screamed at her to deny loving him. She opened her mouth to speak, but her tongue refused to cooperate.

“For my part, I have no doubts. Somewhere along the way you took my heart captive.” He lowered to one knee. “You are the woman I love. The woman I wish to grow old with. To laugh with. To raise a family with. Marry me, Lady Rebecca Summerville, and I vow to love you always.”

An agonizing tightness clenched her chest. Her eyes stung as the cruel truth slammed into her. She did love him. More than she ever thought a woman could love a man. But was love enough? It had not done Daphne any favors. Rebecca could not put herself in the same position, no matter how much she loved Camden.

Her heart may never recover, but at least she could spare herself further heartache by ending this now. She could ensure her life did not turn out like Daphne’s, and mayhap in time she would love another. God willing, Camden would as well.

“Rebecca, I am asking for your hand.” The warmth in his eyes nearly felled her. “Have you nothing to say?”

She averted her gaze, swallowed past the lump in her throat. Her chaperone stood back at the entry to the path, speaking with another guest. “I…I cannot marry you.” She drew in a breath and said, “I am sorry, Captain Beauchamp. I cannot.”

“I understand your fears.” He rose to his feet, pulling her against him, locking his arms around her. “But you are not a coward, Rebecca. We can face them together.”

For a moment, she melted into his embrace before stiffening and pulling away. “I shall not, can not, become a soldier’s wife. It leads to too much heartbreak.” One lone tear slipped from the corner of her eye and glided hotly down her cheek. Her heart shattered as she forced herself to say the words, “I do not love you.”

The dark flash in his eyes was her only warning. He bent his head, slanted his lips across hers. She kissed him back freely, giving fully of herself. One last kiss she would hold deep in her heart for the rest of her days.

When he pulled back, she dragged her gaze to his. “Good bye, Captain Beauchamp.” She twisted in his grip and he released his hold on her. With haste, she set off down the path.

“Your kiss betrays you, Rebecca,” he called after her. “You are lying to me, and perhaps even to yourself.”

His words arrowed through her, and she froze in place. She needed to make him hate her so he would take his leave without further issue. So he would move on and find love with a more suitable lady. With a ragged breath, she stiffened her spine, squaring her shoulders. “My kiss contained nothing more than lust. I assure you, I could never love you.”

He peered at her, his face burning. “You would rather call yourself a harlot than admit to your feelings for me?”

“I have no feelings for you. I have kissed many a gentleman with the same passion as I have kissed you.” She gathered her skirt in both hands and ran.

Thirteen

Rebecca threw herself onto the bed and buried her face in the pillow. Her shoulders trembled as she allowed her tears to break free. Never had she felt so dreadful. She’d hurt a good man merely because she could not stomach his profession. It was horrible of her and she knew it, but to marry him would only lead to further harm. She could never support his career. Never understand his desire to be a soldier. She would live in fear of the day he got called to fight and he would grow to hate her.

She made the only decision she could, so why did it devastate her so? She rolled onto her side, facing the window, and pulled her knees close to her abdomen. She had to love him enough to let him go. Still, she feared she would always wonder and worry about him.

What was he doing now? Was he still angry? Or had anger given way to sorrow? Had Camden returned to Almerry or chosen to brave the remainder of the ball? Nausea swept through her as she replayed their conversation in her mind. His devastated look out in the garden stole her breath, sending a stab of pain straight through her heart.

Startled, Rebecca jumped as someone touched her shoulder. Rolling over, she found Daphne propped up on a crutch, staring down at her. She wiped the tears from her face and scrambled to sit upright. “You should be resting.”