Page 31 of Surrender to the Earl (Brides of Redemption #2)

Pity? Robert felt far more than that—guilt, gut-clenching guilt that a decision he’d help make to release prisoners, a decision against the orders of his commander, a decision he just assumed was right and just, had not only taken the lives of three good soldiers, including Audrey’s husband, but had caused the death of her unborn child.

He couldn’t make that right with just an escort to her new home and some shaky estate advice.

My God, he’d only been doing what was convenient for him, as if he knew best—another trait of his father’s.

No, he’d give her what every woman deserved—marriage, and the chance to have another baby.

He would bring admiration and desire to this marriage, not pity, and tonnish marriages often began with less.

“My lord?” Miss Collins said in a hesitant voice.

He lifted his head, filled with a sense of purpose he hadn’t felt since he’d sold his army commission. “Yes?”

“Are you going to tell Audrey you know about the baby?”

“No. I want her to tell me herself.”

“Oh.” She looked relieved, even as she used her fingers to dab at the corners of her eyes. “Whatever you think best.”

They spent several minutes in silence, Miss Collins staring at the window that ran with rivulets of rain, and Robert sitting still, seeing nothing as he tried not to imagine Audrey’s grief.

When Audrey returned, he felt in control again, certain that he was at last doing the right thing.

He smiled at her, warm with the knowledge that he’d never let her go.

The hard part was going to be convincing her that they should make their engagement real.

He had time to proceed slowly. After all, she opened to him more and more with every kiss and caress.

He met her halfway across the room, taking her hands, startling her.

“Sorry,” he murmured, raising her gloved hands to his lips.

“I haven’t been gone that long,” she said with amusement.

“It seemed long.” And that wasn’t a false statement. His whole life and purpose had changed since she’d been gone, and it felt good.

“I imagine you’re hungry,” she said. “Shall we go in to the dining room?”

He was becoming used to the three of them eating together like a family.

As he helped each of them into their chair, and then took his own, he said, “I found I couldn’t wait to be back here sharing a meal with the both of you.

The dining rooms at Knightsbridge Hall are cavernous and full of echoes, and I have no one to talk to. ”

“Oh, that sounds lonely,” Audrey said.

“Does it?” He tried to put meaning into those words, knowing he couldn’t say, because of Miss Collins, that he had thought Audrey wanted endless evenings alone.

She blushed as she took a sip of her wine, as if maybe she understood his point, yet determination lifted her chin.

She’d worked too hard for her approaching independence to care about meals alone.

And she’d have Molly—he could see her mind working.

But Molly might want a life, too. Robert had heard about Francis mooning over her.

“You must admit,” Audrey began, “that you missed peace and quiet when you were in the army.”

“Sometimes. But I’d like voices and laughter in my home, and right now there’s only the silent servants and me.”

“Soon there’ll be Audrey,” Miss Collins pointed out.

“Yes, and I’m glad,” Robert said quietly.

Audrey shot him a quick, bewildered look. She didn’t know where he was going with this.

“Audrey has always been in my life,” Miss Collins said quietly.

Audrey and Robert both turned toward her.

“I don’t remember much before the scarlet fever, but I think you held me all the time.” Miss Collins wasn’t looking at either of them, her head turned just to the side.

“I taught you to walk,” Audrey whispered. “Your first baby smiles were for me. I remember what they looked like, so sweet and loving.”

A single tear ran down Miss Collins’s cheek. “I used to feel so guilty that I survived the scarlet fever unscathed.”

“Blythe, no! I was so glad of your healthy recovery.”

Miss Collins gave a bleak chuckle. “And that made it worse, at least when I was old enough to understand everything. One can only feel guilty for so long, and then one feels … angry about it. And suppresses all the guilt anyway.”

Robert knew his guilt was deserved, and Miss Collins’s guilt wasn’t, but he understood her better now.

“Blythe,” Audrey began quietly.

“No. I don’t want your sympathy or your understanding.

My behavior doesn’t deserve that. I—I don’t even know why I told you all this.

It doesn’t change the past. I—I don’t feel particularly hungry right now.

” Gracefully, she rose to her feet without looking at either of them and glided from the room.

Robert turned to Audrey, whose head was bent, her palms flat on either side of her place setting.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I never knew how she felt. That confession … it changes so much.”

“You’re lucky, you know.”

Her smile was faint. “I am? Not according to Blythe.”

“I’m not talking about your eyesight. But you have a chance here to make things right with your sister. I would give anything to have that with my brother, dead at fourteen.”

“You were … twelve, were you not, when he died? What would need to be fixed in such a young relationship between brothers?”

“I told you we were competitive in our schoolwork, but that doesn’t truly explain it.

My father always expected the best from us, and I’m assuming he made certain our tutor understood this, and perhaps even feared for his position if we were not exemplary in our studies.

Father, of course, wanted us to go off to Eton so he could be proud of our superiority.

But our tutor took this to heart and chose the worst way possible to increase our studies—he pitted Neil and I against each other in everything, and the one who lost out to the other on even the smallest assignment was punished.

Competition turned to anger then to hatred.

Even at Eton, we had nothing to do with each other, and I felt like he set his friends on me.

Whether that was true, I don’t even know.

And I’ll never know. That’s the point. I’ll never be able to relate to Neil as an adult, to love him as a brother should.

But you have that chance, and Blythe is obviously struggling with the past and how to make things better, just like you are. ”

“You’re very wise, Robert,” she said softly. “I am sorry for your childhood—for both our childhoods.”

“You and Blythe might never have the kind of full respect you want. At least you and I have that for each other.”

She looked confused. “I … yes, I agree.”

“A lot of marriages begin with less than that.”

She frowned. “What are you saying?”

“That I want to make this engagement real. I would like to marry you.”

She laughed, ending it so abruptly she almost snorted.

He smiled, not taking offense. “You think I’m teasing you.”

“And it is quite the joke.”

“I’m not teasing. I would like to marry you. We’ve worked well together these past weeks, and we always have something to talk about. And then there is passion, of course.” He took her hand. “When I’m with you, all I can do is think of kissing you.”

“Robert, stop,” she insisted, pulling her hand away. “The whole point of accepting your help was so that I could live on my own. I am not marrying any man, ever again.”

Or bearing such terrible pain —he could hear those unspoken words, now that he knew the whole truth.

“I know why you’re saying this,” she said, her voice growing sharp. “You pity me, because you think I’m ineffective with my servants.”

“That isn’t true at all. I see how you consider the servants a challenge to be overcome and won. That is your choice.”

“Robert.” She shook her head. “You don’t even realize what you’re saying. You just don’t want Society to know you didn’t marry the blind girl when you’d promised.”

“I don’t care what Society thinks of me.”

“You talked about being lonely—you won’t be that for long. Just wait until the London debutantes discover you’re on the market again. You’ll be swarmed with invitations.”

“Do you think I’m interested in young women fresh from the schoolroom, with no experiences in life? The first thing that goes wrong, they’ll flounder. Whereas you are made of stronger stuff. You’re a survivor, Audrey, and I can’t think of wanting more in a wife.”

“Say what you want, Robert, but this is a whim. We’ll pretend you never said these things.”

“I can’t pretend I don’t feel this.” He got to his feet and pulled her up and into his arms, capturing her mouth in a kiss more bold and urgent than he’d ever allowed himself to show her.

When she moaned, he felt the first flare of satisfaction.