No, it was time to sever their relationship before her heart became irrevocably ensnared. His absence in her life would create a huge emptiness inside her, but it was far better to part with him now than later, when it was too late to salvage-
Roslyn froze when she heard the library door slowly open. Drew entered without bidding, then stood for a long moment before his footsteps sounded on the Aubusson carpet as he crossed to where she sat huddled.
“What is wrong, Roslyn?” he asked quietly.
“If you have to ask, then I could not possibly explain it to you.”
“I didn’t mean to shout at you.”
Opening her eyes unwillingly, she looked up at him. “But you
“No…it’s just that I saw you laughing with Haviland, smiling up at him…”
His voice trailed off, while hers dropped to a ragged whisper. “I can’t bear fighting with you, Drew. I despise fighting.”
“We were not fighting.”
“What do you call it then?”
“Arguing.”
“They are one and the same.”
Guilt stabbing him, Drew raked a hand roughly though his hair. He had indeed instigated a fight with Roslyn. He’d acted the worst sort of fool, giving in to his sudden, irrepressible rage of jealousy, and then he’d taken his fear out on her. And Roslyn was pale and trembling now because of it. He could see the tears glittering in her eyes.
When one slid down her cheek, he wanted to brush it away, but he forced himself to keep his hands by his sides. She wouldn’t like him touching her just now, he suspected. He wanted to hold her, to offer comfort, but she wouldn’t accept his comfort.
“I am sorry,” he murmured, knowing he had some serious groveling to do. “I never should have shouted at you, or made such unwarranted accusations. I reacted in the heat of the moment, out of jealousy. I know you have more honor than to tryst with Haviland behind my back.”
Her delicate jaw was clenched, as if she was struggling for composure. Finally Roslyn seemed to steel herself and sat up.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, determinedly dashing the tears from her eyes. “Regardless of what you meant, our betrothal is at an end.”
Not believing what he’d heard, Drew fixed his gaze intently on her face. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am utterly serious,” she replied, her voice low and without inflection.
“You mean to break our betrothal simply because I raised my voice to you?”
“Yes, Drew. I do. I endured such battles for much of my childhood, and I won’t suffer them in my own marriage.”
Frustration built inside him. “You are overreacting, sweeting…blowing our altercation out of proportion.”
“I don’t believe so. I have known all along a union between us would never work. We don’t want the same things out of marriage. And if we’re fighting now, what kind of future does it portend?”
Drew felt his jaw hardening against his control. “You are using this contretemps to justify turning to Haviland. You still want him.”
Roslyn locked gazes with him. “Whether I want Haviland or not is beside the point. I don’t want to marry
He stared at her, a knife edge of alarm twisting inside him.
At his silence, Roslyn forced a bleak smile. “You yourself said that once the first flush of lust has worn off, a couple is left with boredom or worse. It seems clear that the lust has worn off between us. But you should feel relieved that you won’t have to wed me. I certainly am.”
“Roslyn-” Drew began before she cut him off: “I don’t wish to discuss it further.”
She had withdrawn completely from him; he could see it in her emotionless expression, in her rigid posture. It was as if Roslyn had erected an impenetrable wall between them.
Frustration filled him, along with a feeling of panic deep in his gut.
Her voice was almost cold when she broke the silence again. “Why did you come here, Drew?”
At her abrupt change in subject, he let out a harsh breath, struggling to remember his reason for calling. “Crupp discovered the identity of Sir Rupert’s private solicitor,” Drew finally said. “A man by the name of Farnaby. I called on him this afternoon to inquire about Sir Rupert’s former mistress. He knew of her, of course. Her name is Constance Baines. But he claims he lost touch with her four years ago, after his client died. Sir Rupert had maintained a small house on the outskirts of London for Constance and her children, but reportedly the house was sold and they no longer live there.”
Roslyn winced at that last revelation. “Children? There is more than one child?”
“There are three. A boy and two younger girls.”
Her mouth turned down in sorrow. “Winifred will be heartbroken,” Roslyn murmured. “So where are they now?”
“I am endeavoring to find out.” Drew paused. “Farnaby seemed extremely nervous about discussing the Baines woman and refused at first even to divulge the address of the house. Frankly, it wouldn’t surprise me if he misappropriated the late Sir Rupert’s funds four years ago.”
“You think Farnaby stole from the estate?”
“It’s possible. I think he would have been more forthcoming otherwise. I had to resort to veiled threats to persuade him to cooperate. For now, I’ve charged Bow Street with locating Constance Baines. They’ll interview the house’s current occupants as well as her former neighbors about where she and her children might have gone. It may be a dead end, but I hope to know something in the next day or two. If I do discover her whereabouts-and if she is still in London-I thought you might like to accompany me.”
“Yes…I would.”
“Very well. I’ll send a footman to let you know when I will come to collect you.”
She shook her head. “You needn’t go to such trouble, Drew. I will borrow Winifred’s carriage to travel to London.”
“Don’t be absurd, sweeting. It is no trouble.”
Stiffening again, Roslyn returned his gaze directly. “I have no intention of traveling anywhere with you.”
That hollow, sickening sensation returned to claw at Drew. He hesitated, debating whether to press her when she was still so upset at him. “Then allow me to send my carriage for you.”
“That would be inappropriate since we are no longer betrothed.”
“Roslyn…” Drew dragged his fingers through his hair again. “I told you I was sorry.”
Her lips pressed together for a moment before she smiled faintly. “Your apologies matter little to me, Drew. Our betrothal is at an end. I trust you will notify the papers?”
“You don’t mean it-”
Her gaze turned even cooler. “Pray do me the courtesy of believing my sincerity. I will never wed you. And I won’t remain in a sham of a betrothal merely to placate the gossips.”
Drew felt his heart lurch, slamming hard against the constricted wall of his chest. He wanted fiercely to argue with her, to make Roslyn change her mind immediately. But remembering her loathing for arguments, he settled for reasoning with her. “You know a broken betrothal will only stain your reputation.”
“No doubt. But I will suffer the consequences. For now I want nothing more to do with you.”
With great dignity, she stood. “If you find Constance, then please inform me. Otherwise, you are not welcome here at Danvers Hall.”
Drew watched as she walked from the room, regal, queenly, dispassionate. Her pronouncement had seemed so final. And so had her declaration that she didn’t want him for her husband.
His foremost response was dread; dark and cold, it curled inside him at the thought of losing Roslyn. He couldn’t allow their betrothal to end, for how could he convince her to love him?
But no, Drew told himself, willing his feeling of panic to subside. He wasn’t admitting defeat. Roslyn was overwrought, upset-and justifiably angry at him. He just had to allow her time to reconsider.
For now he would suspend his efforts to woo her, but he would change her mind about their betrothal, Drew promised himself. Roslyn would wed him in the end, and she would come to love him.
