His voice was flat. And he walked away. And Beatrice collapsed at the foot of the bed, weeping piteously. She felt... Utterly sad for him. For them. For all that they could be.
For all that he could have.
And even within the depths of her despair. She realised.
She was at war now. For his heart. For his very soul.
You always thought that you were strong enough to do this. You must not crumple now.
* * *
Briggs was drunk. And he was at a brothel.
He hated himself. Despised himself. And yet, he was doing everything he could think to do to push her away.
And you will devastate her if you touch another woman.
He knew that.
It was why he was simply in the dining area drinking. He had not gone up to one of the bedrooms yet, but he would. He would. He would do what he must in order to...
To what? Devastate her? So that you can prove your own point?
But it was the work. That was what he could not take. That was what he could not endure.
He did not know what magical combination of pieces of himself he had found to make Beatrice love him. He did not understand it. And he had no idea how to continue on with it.
And it would be like everyone. Everyone. Eventually, he would not be able to be the thing that she wanted, and then she would hate him. She would hate him.
As much as he hated himself.
He felt the same chilly presence that he had felt that night at the ball and looked up. Of course it was Kendal. He should’ve known better than to be seen at a brothel when his brother-in-law was in town.
‘And what the hell are you doing here?’
‘Leaving your sister alone. Is that not what you want?’
‘Like hell. You bastard. I do not want you betraying my sister. That is certain.’
‘A betrayal, is it? How so? If she is merely to be my ward.’
‘And have you taken her innocence?’
He said nothing. Instead, he simply drank more whisky.
‘You have. Wonderful.’
‘What I have or haven’t done is hardly your business. You must leave me to sort out the affairs of my marriage. After all, you will wash your hands of me.’
‘It is only out of concern for Beatrice.’
‘Do you want to know a cruel joke? Your sister thinks that she is in love with me.’
Hugh stopped. ‘Does she?’
‘Yes. She gave quite an impassioned speech to that effect earlier.’
‘And now you’re here. Drunk. Why is that?’