I remained frozen, unable to move. He was saying words that didn’t make sense. Nicholas had his own agenda and this did not play into his plans at all. I watched as he knelt down on one knee in front of me and he took both my hands in his.
“I am completely in love with you. It does not matter to me that you love another. I love you enough for both of us and I believe one day you will grow to love me too. Marry me, Miriam.”
I stared down at our hands joined together in my lap unable to meet his gaze.
“This isn’t what you wanted. Marrying me does not get the revenge on your brother you wanted. He does not want me.” My words came out in a whisper, as if there were others around that could hear me.
His hands held mine tighter. “Miriam, look at me,” he pleaded.
Unable to ignore him, for although I did not love him, he was my friend and I did care for him, I lifted my eyes to his. There was a gentleness there that was comforting. Something I had seen very little of in my life. Something I had craved.
“I came to London seeking revenge and instead I found you. You, Miriam Bathurst, changed everything. The anger, the bitterness, the hatred, it all melted away and all that was left was you. All I could see was you. All I wanted was you. You saved me from my own inner Hell.”
For the second time today, tears stung my eyes. This time I didn’t fight them. I didn’t withhold them. Perhaps I needed to cry. For all I had wanted. For all I had lost. For all I had dreamed about. And for what I had found. This wasn’t a love story. It was a story of redemption. It was a story of friendship.
I had always wanted to be loved and here was a man proclaiming his love for me. Could I want for something my entire life then when it was handed to me so selflessly walk away from it?
No. I could not. That wasn’t who I was.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Miriam Bathurst
With each movement, be it a full turn or slight move of hand, I knew I was being watched closely. The smile I kept on my lips wasn’t easy and I had no doubt that my dance partner noticed the less than genuine expression I was trying hard to keep in place. This was it, tonight, would be the last night I attended a ball as simply, Miriam Bathurst. There was no more time to decide. My decision had been made.
I stiffened as I moved in the arms of the man I had agreed to marry this morning in my aunt’s rose garden. He, however, wasn’t who I loved and I wished desperately that he was. I did not have forever to wait for the man I had thought might love me to realize he did. My mother and sister needed me to marry. Glancing up into beautiful green eyes of the man that held me, my smile became genuine, even if it was sad.
Tonight would be the last time I was given this freedom to enjoy his friendship and the simplicity of his company. So much would change and I hoped it didn’t destroy us all. For after I became his wife, the man my traitorous heart loved, would surely hate me. That was a pain far worse than any I could comprehend. Yet, I knew I would never have been his choice. He had made that clear with his failure to choose.
“You are quiet tonight,” Nicholas noted.
“Yes, I believe I am nervous,” I replied with honesty. For if we were to be married then I wanted to begin with truth always.
“It seems Ashington finds little else of interest in the room tonight,” Nicholas said, making it clear he was aware his brother was watching us or perhaps me.
“He must have been reminded of my existence tonight,” I quipped in an attempt to make light of the matter.
Nicholas smirked. “It does appear that way.”
The dance was not even yet at an end when Lord Ashington began to move through the crowd in our direction. I knew no one was aware of our recent betrothal, so his sudden attention could not be summoned from that knowledge. My hand tightened on Nicholas’s arm and I tried to steady myself before his arrival.
With a quick glance over his left shoulder, Nicholas took in the situation at hand and I felt him tense as well. Neither of us had been prepared for Ashington to approach us. I had assumed he would continue to ignore me as he had at the last ball. Why tonight did he choose to remind me how he made me feel? It was not as if I had forgotten. I was haunted with my feelings for him every moment.
“Miss Bathurst,” Lord Ashington greeted me formally when he made it to us just as the song had ended. “I believe I am promised the next dance.”
I knew he was not.
But Nicholas did not know this.
I stood there on my very own precipice.
I was not a liar and I would tell Nicholas the truth, but not at this moment. For right now I needed this dance. There may not be another chance such as this to speak to Ashington before my betrothal to his brother is announced. He may not need to hear it from me, but I needed to be the one to tell him. It was me who was foolish enough to fall in love with him after all. I was seeking closure and I hoped Nicholas would understand my decision.
Slowly I removed my hand from Nicholas’s arm and the small sense of security and support I had drawn from him was gone. Perhaps I had made the wrong decision. I thought I was strong enough to face Ashington, but without Nicholas beside me, maybe I was not.
Ashington held out his hand as the music started up again and as if I were watching someone else, I placed my hand in his and stepped away from my only friend and into the arms of the man who had broken my heart so easily. My body in turn reacted as if it had been given back to its rightful owner and hummed with pleasure from his nearness. Did the rest of me not realize my heart had been damaged by this man? Did those butterflies that were ever present in my stomach when he was near and the tingles from his touch not understand how very dangerous he was? Were we not all one and the same? Did they not feel the agony that I felt, knowing that he would soon hate me?
“I am sorry, Miriam,” he said without hesitation. I could feel the heat from his gaze on me, but I kept my eyes locked on nothing and everything but him. I did not trust myself to look up into his eyes, the color of the darkest blue seas. I dreamed of those eyes and the way they reminded me of a storm churning when he was aroused. No! I would not allow myself to get swept away with emotion and become weak. This was the man who had so easily forgotten me. Without explanation, he had acted as if we did not know each other at all.
“Me too,” I replied with a new found will. I swung my gaze to meet his, determined to say what needed to be said before this dance was over. “For trusting you,” I added. “It was a mistake. One I shall not make again. Today Nicholas asked me to marry him and I said yes. He chose me over the revenge he so harbored toward you. I can trust him,” I did not say ‘not to hurt me’ because I did not want my emotions to be laid bare to Ashington. He did not need to know how he had hurt me. It was done.
Ashington paused for a moment and stared at me as if he did not believe the words I was saying. I held my head high and my shoulders back. He may not think I was worthy enough to be his countess, but his brother did find worth in me. I would be a good wife and the incredulous look in Lord Ashington’s eyes would not break me. I would not allow it to. He couldn’t hurt me anymore.
“Nicholas accepts me for who I am,” I said, needing to remind myself possibly more than anything. “He wants me. Nothing more.”
Ashington continued to stare at me as if my words made no sense to him or if he could not believe what he was hearing. My chest felt as if it may explode from the pain I had said he could no longer cause me. I had been wrong. It appeared Lord Ashington could, indeed, cause me great pain with saying very few words or no words at all.