Page 104 of The Scottish Duke's Deal

Eleanor’s throat tightened. “He thinks he’s broken.”

“Maybe he is,” Kitty said. “But so is everyone. That doesn’t mean he can’t love you.”

Eleanor stared into her teacup.

“Sometimes,” Kitty added, voice quiet, “men like Ramsay don’t know how to receive love until it’s almost too late. Until they push it away and ruin it, and then they realize they’ve made a mistake.”

“What if he doesn’t come back?” Eleanor whispered.

“Then he doesn’t deserve you.” Kitty reached for her hand and squeezed. “But I think he will.”

Eleanor didn’t speak for a long time. She just sat there, letting the warmth of Kitty’s hand ground her, the weight of her heart pressing down like stones in her chest.

Finally, she whispered, “It hurts.”

“I know.”

The carriage wheels clattered over the uneven London stones, every jolt echoing through his skull. Ramsay sat rigid beside Lady Fraser, hands clenched so tightly in his lap that the gloves creaked.

His grandmother was watching him from the corner of her eye. She hadn’t said a word since they’d left the house.

“You might at least pretend you’re not being dragged to your execution,” she said finally, dry as bone.

Ramsay didn’t answer.

She huffed. “For heaven’s sake, you look like you’ve been sentenced. Is it because she didn’t come down to see you off?”

He flinched. “I told her not to.”

“Of course, you did,” she said coolly. “And you think that makes you noble?”

He didn’t respond.

The silence stretched.

Then, quietly, he said, “She won’t forgive me.”

Lady Fraser blinked, just once. “You don’t know that.”

“I do.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, staring at the opposite bench like it might offer some kind of reprieve. “She let me in. I walked away anyway.”

“You’re a man,” she said. “It’s what you lot do. You’re hopeless.”

His mouth twisted. “It’s more than that. I told her I wasn’t the man she wanted. And maybe I’m not. But that doesn’t mean—” He stopped, jaw working.

“That you didn’t want to be?” she finished.

He looked at her.

Lady Fraser’s expression softened, just a fraction. “Do you think I didn’t see the way you looked at her at the ball?”

He swallowed hard. “This is the first time I’ve ever known where my home was. And I left it standing at the top of the stairs in a silk nightgown.”

Lady Fraser gave a quiet snort. “Well. That paints a picture.”

“I’m not trying to be glib.” His voice cracked slightly, and he hated it. “I just… I don’t know how to be what she needs. I don’t even know what I am anymore.”

“You’re a man who found a reason to stay,” she said. “That’s something.”