Even with his back to her, he felt her eyes upon him.
He’d sworn when she’d nearly perished that he’d never compel her to anything again. But this was impossible.
“Stay and eat something, at least,” he said to the gardens, although he hardly saw the sun shining on the perfectly maintained grounds. How absurd he could still sound like a civilized man when ravening demons clawed at his soul. “And use my traveling coach. It will be more comfortable.”
“We want nowt of yours,” Ashton snapped. “Throwing your brass around won’t make up for what you’ve done. Any road, I’d prefer to get my sister well away from your bully boys before you change your mind and decide to keep her.”
Kylemore didn’t bother to defend himself. What was the point? Ben Ashton would find out soon enough that he meant to abide by Verity’s wishes, no matter what it cost him.
Perhaps one day she’d remember this moment and know she left him a better man than she’d found him.
What a pathetic epitaph to his great love.
“Ben,” Verity said quietly. “I’d like you to go to the village and arrange our departure. I want to talk to His Grace.”
“I’m not leaving you on your ane with this sodding bastard. He’ll spirit you away before I get back.”
Kylemore could hardly blame the fellow for mistrusting him. At their last encounter, he’d left the younger man to shiver naked in a cold ruin while his sister had disappeared to face who knew what violence and abuse.
“He won’t.” Unmistakable certainty rang in Verity’s low voice.
Thank you, mo cridhe, he whispered silently, before he spoke to Ashton. “The servants can collect your carriage and belongings while you wait in the hall.”
“You could still bundle her off without me knowing owt,” the bumpkin insisted with a stubborn set to his jaw.
“Ben, there’s nothing stopping him having you constrained now while he abducts me,” Verity pointed out gently. “Please leave us. There are things I need to say to His Grace.”
Kylemore turned around to see Ashton glaring at his sister in indecision. Then he nodded abruptly. “If this villain makes the slightest false move, scream.”
She tried to smile. Kylemore couldn’t say she made a success of it. “If he so much as touches my hand.”
Kylemore didn’t pause for further objections. He led Ashton outside and gave the appropriate orders to his butler.
He would have insisted they use his coach, but he saw that the disharmony between Ashton and himself upset Verity. And she, in spite of the fact that she’d gotten exactly what she wanted, had clearly reached the end of her strength.
He left Ashton to kick his heels in the hall and returned to Verity. She’d risen and stood staring down into the flickering fire. Her profile was perfect and unutterably sad against the mythical revels carved on the marble fireplace. When she looked up, her silver eyes were dark with a misery equal to his own.
How could he bear this? He leaned against the closed doors behind him and braced himself for what was to come.
Verity knew this was the last time she’d be alone with the man she loved. Hungrily, her eyes traced his face and body. He looked the worst kind of ruffian, with his ruffled hair and rumpled clothes and the darkening bruises on his face.
“I’m sorry he hit you,” she said softly without moving from the grate.
“I deserved it.” Kylemore straightened and gingerly touched his cheek. “If your brother ever finds himself short of the ready, he’d make quite a career as a boxer, I warrant.”
Automatically, she took a step toward him and her hand rose to soothe his injuries. Then she remembered she’d forbidden herself such tender gestures.
“At least he’s saved you a journey to Whitby,” she said, unable to hide her regret. She hadn’t wanted to prolong the pain of parting, but now that the final moment had arrived, she resented every second’s passing.
“It would have been a privilege.” His expression was somber. “Verity, what you told everyone down at the dock, you didn’t have to say it.” He paused, obviously at a loss, then finished gruffly, “Thank you.”
This time, she couldn’t keep herself from reaching for him. “Well, I couldn’t let him hurt you.”
He took her hand in a rough grip. “Verity, don’t go. For God’s sake, don’t go.”
She closed her eyes, fighting tears. Her own unhappiness was devastating enough. But the agony he no longer troubled to hide made her want to die.
“I must.” She spoke as much to herself as to him.