“Because of what?” Holly prompted softly.
Elizabeth glanced through her fingers, dark gaze glimmering. “Well,” she mumbled, “I suppose I was going to say ‘because of you,’ although that sounds like an accusation, and I certainly don't mean it that way. But my lady, it's a fact that Zach changed when you left. I suppose I was too self-absorbed to notice what was happening between the two of you, but now I realize…my brother fell in love with you, didn't he? And you wouldn't have him. I know you must have had good reason for leaving us, you're so clever and wise, and you must—”
“No, Lizzie,” Holly managed to whisper. “I'm not clever or wise, not in the least.”
“—and I know you're accustomed to a very different sort of man than Zach, which is why I would never dare presume that you might care for him in the same way. But I have come here to ask you something.” Elizabeth bent her head and blotted a few leaking tears with her sleeve. “Please go to him,” she said huskily. “Talk to him, say something to bring him to his senses. I've never seen him behave like this. And I think you may be the only person in the world he might listen to. Just make him reasonable again. If you don't, he's going to ruin himself and drive away everyone who cares for him.”
“Oh, Lizzie…” Compassionately, Holly slid her arm around the girl's narrow back and held her close. They sat together for at least a minute. Finally Holly spoke in a quiet voice. “He won't want to see me.”
“No,” Elizabeth agreed with a sigh. “Zach doesn't allow your name to be spoken. He pretends you don't exist.”
The words made Holly feel hollow and afraid. “All I can promise you is that I will try. He may refuse to speak with me, however.”
Elizabeth sighed and glanced out the window at the approaching daylight. “I must be off—I have to return home before breakfast. I don't want Zach to suspect where I've been.”
“You'll allow one of the Taylors' grooms to escort you back home,” Holly said firmly. “It's too dangerous to ride by yourself.”
Elizabeth hung her head with a wobbly, repentant smile. “All right, my lady. I'll let him come with me to the very end of the drive, as long as he takes care not to be visible from the main house.” She glanced at Holly hopefully. “When will you go to see Zach, my lady?”
“I don't know,” Holly confessed, while excitement and fear and hope meshed inside her. “I suppose when I can summon the nerve.”
Sixteen
In the whirlwind of her thoughts, Holly had forgotten that she had agreed to go riding with Ravenhill, her wouldbe fiancé, that morning. Long after Elizabeth Bronson had departed, Holly sat in the receiving room with a lukewarm cup of tea in her hand. She stared into the tepid milky liquid and groped for words, the right words to convince Zachary to forgive and trust her once more. It seemed there would be no graceful way to address the subject. She would simply have to throw herself on his mercy and hope for the best. A bleak, ironic smile curved her lips as she reflected that her own social training had included a hundred polite ways to rebuff a gentleman, but no instruction on how to win one back afterward. Knowing all about Zachary's fierce pride and his formidable defenses, she knew he would not succumb to her easily. He would make her pay for the way she had fled from him—he would demand unconditional surrender.
“Good Lord, what thoughts are putting such a dour expression on your lovely face?” Vardon, Lord Ravenhill advanced in the room, his tall, athletic form dressed in a dark riding habit. Golden-haired, quietly dashing, his movements spare and confident, he was any woman's dream of the perfect man. Staring at him with a wistful smile, Holly reflected that it was time to begin burning bridges.
“Good morning, my lord.” She gestured for him to sit beside her.
“You're not dressed for riding,” he observed. “Am I too early, or have you changed your mind about this morning?”
“I've changed my mind about a good many things, I'm afraid.”
“Ah. I sense you're leading into a gravely important discussion.” He gave her a teasing smile, but the gray eyes turned watchful.
“Vardon, I'm so afraid I'll lose your friendship after you hear what I wish to say.”
Gently he took her hand, turned it and bent his head to press a kiss to her palm. When his gaze returned to hers, it was serious, kind and steady. “Darling friend, you won't ever lose me. No matter what you do or say.”
A month of companionship had built a great sense of trust between them, allowing Holly to speak with the blunt honesty that Ravenhill deserved. “I've decided that I don't want to marry you.”
He did not blink or exhibit any flicker of surprise. “I'm sorry to hear that,” he said softly.
“You deserve nothing less than a love match,” she continued in a rush. “A true, passionate, wonderful love with a woman you cannot live without. And I…”
“And you?” he prompted, retaining her hand in a careful grip.
“I'm going to somehow gather the courage to go to Mr. Bronson and ask him to take me as his wife.”
A long, thoughtful silence ensued as he absorbed the words. “You realize that if you join with him, many in the ton will deem it a complete fall from grace. There are circles that will no longer accept you—”
“It doesn't matter,” Holly assured him with a choked laugh. “My perfect sterling reputation was cold comfort in the years after George passed away. I'll trade it gladly for the chance to be loved. I'm only sorry that it's taken me so long to realize what is truly important. Since George, I have been terrified to risk my heart again, and because of that, I've lied to myself and everyone.”
“Then go to Bronson and tell him the truth.”
She smiled at him, astonished by the simplicity of the answer. “Vardon, you are supposed to tell me about my duty. About honor, and what I owe to George.”
“Darling Holland,” he said, “you're facing an entire lifetime without George. Use your God-given sense to decide what is best for you and Rose. If you decide to cast your lot with Bronson, I'll accept your choice.”