Page 42 of Surrender to the Earl (Brides of Redemption #2)

A udrey was sitting on the edge of her bed when the door opened. She prayed it would only be Molly, come to help her undress for bed, but she heard Blythe’s cheerful voice. To her ears, it was like raucous screech of a bird, making her wince.

“I told Molly to go to bed, since she’s been dealing with the puppy. I’m here to help.”

And then she must have looked at Audrey, who couldn’t master the emotions necessary to hide her despair.

“Audrey, what’s wrong?” she cried.

When Blythe sat down on the bed beside her, tried to put her arm around her, it was too much. Audrey shook her off and rose to pace.

“Robert knows about my baby,” she said, feeling her despair replaced by anger as she said the words aloud.

Blythe burst into noisy tears. “Don’t blame him—it’s my fault!”

At least she’d admitted it. “Tell me the truth—tell me everything! I cannot take another lie.”

“Oh, Audrey, I didn’t mean to. Robert and I were discussing how the servants seemed to be hiding Louisa’s baby from you, and the truth just …

came out.” She blew her nose in a handkerchief.

“I had no idea he didn’t know. I’ve been trying so hard to be worthy of your trust, to prove that I’ve grown up.

I spent so much of my childhood resenting that you were different, that Father made us treat you that way.

You were always so independent, like you never needed us—I wanted to be needed,” she added on a whisper.

“I came here thinking I could be of help, even though Father sent me.”

“What are you saying?”

“He thought—he thought you would want to come home, and I was to tell him when you were ready. I was supposed to tell him everything that happened, but I didn’t, I swear.

He even sent a letter to the Sanfords with your coachman on that first day, telling them that you were only hurting yourself, and that you should be at home. ”

Audrey closed her eyes on a groan. “Another reason they had problems with me from the start.”

“But I saw you, Audrey, I knew you were going to be successful, and I wanted to be a part of it, to help you. And now I’ve ruined everything.”

“You didn’t ruin everything, Robert did,” Audrey said coldly.

“Robert? Why are you blaming him when this is my fault?”

“Because once he knew about the baby, he courted me out of pity, made me fall in love with him—I am such a fool!” She fisted her hands.

“Oh, no, you’re not!” Blythe insisted, catching her hand and making her stop pacing. “You need to hear what I’ve seen. I’ve been watching Robert all this time, and he’s fallen in love with you right before my very eyes. There is such tenderness?—”

“You mean pity,” Audrey interrupted with bitterness.

“Eyes can be powerful, and you don’t understand that. I know the difference between pity and love. Do you not think I have seen others show their pity on their faces? He loves you Audrey! It shines from him. Can you not feel it?”

“No,” she whispered. “And he never said it. I don’t trust a single thing I’m feeling, and I won’t make another terrible marriage. I’d rather be alone.”

“How can a marriage be terrible if you love him?” Blythe asked plaintively.

“During my first marriage, there was no love at all, and I still felt betrayed when Martin left me behind. But if I love Robert—imagine how he could hurt me? I won’t do it, I won’t marry him,” she insisted, even as she knew she sounded almost hysterical.

Blythe only blew her nose again. “I … I feel responsible for this.”

“You aren’t. He should have told me he knew, and instead, he seduced me.”

Blythe gave a little gasp. “Oh, Audrey …”

“Now don’t you pity me, too, I couldn’t take it!” She covered her face with both hands. “Just—just leave me be, Blythe. I forgive you, because it was just a slip of the tongue.”

“I don’t know if I deserve your forgiveness,” she whispered.

“Then that makes me certain I forgive you. Go to bed, Blythe. I’ll be all right.”

Blythe put her arms around her, and Audrey accepted the hug, and even tightened it for a fierce moment. She would get through this, and she would have her sister, even if she never rid herself of this terrible ache deep inside where her bright love used to be.

Robert stood in one of the guest bedrooms at Rose Cottage, staring at the wall that separated Audrey and him, feeling tired and frustrated and angry with himself.

The guilt he bore for helping cause the death of her husband— that she’d understood and thought an honest mistake, though it changed everything about her life.

But withholding that he knew the truth about the death of her child? How had he not seen how important that would be to her?

Because, of course, he always thought he knew best. He’d spent his entire life trying to be a different man, a better man, and still hadn’t managed it.

But it wasn’t too late. He and Audrey were meant to be together, however their relationship had come about.

The more he knew her, the more amazed he was by her strength, courage, and compassion.

He no longer felt pity or duty-bound—he’d fallen in love with her.

Every time he was separated from her, the days stretched out as if with no reason, if he couldn’t share them with her.

But would she ever believe this? He had to find some way to convince her of the truth.

Audrey delayed coming down to breakfast, but it didn’t matter. Robert was still there in the morning, waiting for her, his “Good morning” full of a resolution that didn’t bode well for her peace of mind.

Peace of mind? She’d barely gotten a few hours’ sleep, and her mind felt sluggish and sad. Any peace was cowering in a corner as her dark thoughts chased each other around.

When she heard no other voices or movement, she asked, “Where are my other guests?” keeping her voice impassive.

“They breakfasted and went walking with Blythe. Your sister said you usually walk with her, but she didn’t want to disturb you.”

Audrey only nodded.

“Michael and Cecilia will be leaving soon after.” He paused, then asked softly, “How are you?”

She felt the barest brush along her arm and pulled away. “I can’t force you to leave, Robert, but I need you to do so, to stop visiting me.”

“I won’t give up, Audrey. I’ve fallen in love with you, and somehow I’ll find a way to prove it to you, to make you believe.”

“You’re just hurting me!” she whispered, backing away. “And for all I know, you’re only concerned because there might be a child.”

“And I would love our child, even as I love you.”

She whirled and departed for her study, feeling the sting of tears she’d become so good at suppressing.

She slammed the door hard, and barely resisted sliding down to the floor.

She didn’t want to think of their child, or how it would force her to marry, make her give up her independence.

She wouldn’t want her child to suffer Arthur’s fate, that of a nameless bastard.

And she wanted to cry because she’d spent the last three days missing Robert terribly, had felt everything brighten the moment he’d arrived to share the tenant feast with her.

And he’d destroyed all that. All along she’d been softening toward him, imagining him lonely but for the memories of a brother he’d never been permitted to love, parents who hadn’t loved him.

If he knew, he’d think she was pitying him, she thought bitterly. Everything was so complicated.

When Michael and Cecilia were preparing to leave later that morning, Audrey felt composed, although she imagined she could not hide that something was wrong. She was simply grateful that Robert would be leaving as well.

But he didn’t plan to leave, had even brought his own horse, to her frustration.

As the men were saying their good-byes, she felt a touch on her arm.

“Audrey, may I speak privately with you?” Cecilia asked.

“Of course.” Curious in spite of herself, Audrey led the way across the hall to her study, then turned to await what the other woman had planned.

“Robert has said nothing to either Michael or I, but I can see that problems have appeared overnight. You both seemed so happy yesterday.”

Audrey hesitated, but she didn’t want to lie—lies were what had put her in this position. “I discovered … some unsettling truths.”

“Was it about their military service and the terrible tragedy that took my father’s life, along with your husband’s?”

Audrey nodded without elaborating, unable to bear the thought of one more person’s pity. “Did Michael withhold the truth from you?”

Cecilia sighed aloud. “He did, and probably for the same reasons Robert did—guilt and shame. I don’t think we could punish them any more than they’ve already punished themselves.”

“This isn’t about punishment,” Audrey said tightly, “but trust.”

“I withheld things from Michael, painful things about my family and our past. I told myself it wasn’t his business, or even that I didn’t want to relive everything.”

“But this was my business—this concerned my dead husband.” And me, when Robert hid his reasons for courting me. How many times can I believe what a man tells me?

She’d withheld the truth about her baby—but that didn’t affect Robert at all. It was her private sorrow, something she was trying to leave in the past as she began her new life.

Or did it concern him? Did it give him a complete picture of her, one he deserved? She was so confused.

“Audrey,” Cecilia said, “it is not my place to try to change your mind. I only ask that you give it much thought before making any final decisions. I cannot tell you how wonderfully happy the two of you looked together. Michael told me he’d always hoped Robert would at last find the family he deserved. ”

Those words were as sharp and painful as a knife, but she forced herself to nod. “Thank you for the advice, Cecilia. I will keep it in mind.”

“Write to me, please? I would truly like to consider you a friend.”

“I will. I have to warn you—my handwriting is atrocious.”

Cecilia chuckled, and they hugged in parting.