Was she aware that her argument contradicted things she’d said to him before? When the urge to grin took hold, he tamped it down. “I’ll need to marry, find a countess who is proper and not a proponent of chasing scandal as you are.”
Tears sprang to her eyes, making them luminous and more gem-like in the dim light. “If that’s the reason you’re doing this, you needn’t marry right away. Find your identity within the title, and we can still continue to each enjoy other.”
“You know why we can’t.” When one of those crystalline tears fell to her cheek, hot panic rose within his chest. “Unless you suddenly wish to wed an earl?” Dear God, why had he said that? Is that what he secretly wished to do, and with her? A scandalous affair was one thing, but having a scandalous wife was quite another. “Er, I mean—”
Isobel held up a hand. “Relax, Royce. My sentiment on titled men still stands. I want nothing to do with them… or you, I suppose, since you’re adamant on crashing down this arrogant, priggish path. And being wed to anyone at this moment in my life isn’t something I want. There’s a certain freedom in being my own woman without needing to answer to anyone.”
“But I… You must take your family’s wishes into account.”
“No. Not any longer.” Slowly, she shook her head and dropped her hand. “I won’t lie and say I’ll not mourn your loss, for you provided a safe haven, a reprieve from the storms that are battering me. However, I know you better than you think. As a doctor, you were fearless, considered your calling an adventure, a bid to continue to learn. But now you’re afraid.”
He gasped as the magnitude of the statement came over him. “Absolutely not.” Not knowing what to do with his hands, he crossed his arms at his chest. “I saw fighting in the war. Came back and healed men who had wounds inflicted upon them by other men. You have no idea the horrors I’ve been subjected to, so your statement is quite false. I am afraid of nothing.”
Except losing you.
“No.” Isobel closed the distance, laid a hand on his arms until he let them relax. “Being the earl terrifies you in ways you’ve never dreamed of before.”
“How is it possible you can guess that when we’ve not shared anything deeply personal?”
A ghost of a smile curved her kissable lips, but those damned sorrow-filled shadows in her eyes would haunt him for the rest of his life. “Perhaps you and I didn’t need much talking. At times two people just connect on a level that doesn’t require conversation.”
Which made this all the more difficult. His chest tightened to the point of pain. Finally, he nodded. “I’ll admit, the title, the life it will exact from me, is terrifying.” Especially if she wasn’t with him, prodding him to grow, to come up to the mark, to hold his ground. But how could there be anything between them now that his reality had shifted?
“I’m disappointed you’re considering giving up your clinic, your whole identity, the man I knew you as in the face of holding a title that relies more on tradition than the advancement of knowledge that you adore so much.”
It was as if she’d stabbed him through the heart. Royce pressed a hand to that organ. It ached so fiercely that he forgot the music and revelry occurring behind him in the ballroom. For the first time in his life, he was without direction. A chill went down his spine as he found her gaze. “I don’t know what to do, Isobel. I can’t see who I am any longer, and it’s going to tear me apart.”
Please help me find the way back.
She wiped at her tears with her gloved fingertips and laid her other hand on his chest. “You are Doctor Royce Marsden. The man who lives for the advancement of medicine, the man who believes wounded, forgotten soldiers are still worthy of finding a place in society.” Questions flitted through her eyes to mix with the sadness. “I suspect you’ve never wavered from wanting to become a physician even from childhood, yet here you are willing to toss that life’s work into the bin through a set of adverse circumstances.” She sighed. “Who you are beyond that is solely up to you.”
Anger speared through his chest to pierce the sense of doom that had come over him ever since he’d told her they needed to quit the affair. “Those are brave words from a woman who has made it a point to run from everything that smacks of change in her life.” When she gasped at his effrontery, he plunged onward. “Do you even know who you are, Isobel, or are you patronizing me?” The more he hurt her as he was, the easier it would be to break away.
Wouldn’t it?
“No.” Her admission surprised him. She shook her head and took a step away from him. “I am still discovering that, bit by bit, day after day, especially when I separate myself from my family’s wishes.” For long moments, she remained quiet. “Some of what I’m finding out is surprising and some is disturbing. I fear I’m too much a messy storm most times, but if that’s my truth, there is naught I can do but accept it.”
“What if you can’t?” Could he accept who he was and dare that answer to be different than who he was expected to be?
“Then unhappiness will be my lot.” She held his gaze and lifted her chin at the stubborn angle he’d come to know and love about her. A hint of frost lingered in her stare. “If the people around me refuse to accept me for who I truly am, that is their loss, and I’ll wish them well.”
Oh, God.She referred to him and how he didn’t want her due to her personality and reputation. I’m the lowest of the low. He rubbed his fingers over his painful, cracking heart. “I’m not certain I can do what’s expected of me, Isobel, for everyone on either side of the issue will come out disappointed and angry.”
Her expression softened. She grabbed onto his fingers. “Then do what you believe is right. I imagine you did the same when you embarked on the study of medicine.”
“Yes. My father objected strenuously.” He’d somehow forgotten that.
“But you believed in that and in your abilities to heal.” With a squeeze of his fingers, she imparted a bit of strength. Isobel looked at him with such hope, such feeling in her eyes that he trembled, swayed at the edge of a precipice. Was she aware of those emotions? And what should he do about them? “Do what your heart tells you.”
For the space of a few heartbeats, it was on the tip of his tongue to properly ask her to be with him in whatever capacity she could manage, that they’d stumble their way through no matter what, but the future was too new, too overwhelming and littered with too many expectations, and he suspected that if he somehow managed to marry her, it would put her into a gilded cage that would ultimately clip her wings.
I don’t want to tame her, but how can I encourage her to keep on as she is without finding myself in those same flames?
The remainder of his heart broke into a million pieces as he pulled from her grasp. “I am the ninth Earl of Worchester.” That had always been his destiny, damn it all to hell.
“Oh, Royce.” Her sob nearly sent him to his knees to ask for her forgiveness. “But your life’s work… the man you were meant to be the moment you took up your first scalpel…”
“Will have to fade away into obscurity,” he said, and he hated the bitter taste of each one of those words. Just like he would once this night was over. He forced a hard swallow into his suddenly tight throat. “I’m so sorry, Isobel.”