Confessions at Midnight

Instead, he simply asked, 'Why?'

Because I love you and I can't bear that you don't love me. Because I have to try to protect whatever tiny piece of my heart you haven't stolen. 'While I've no qualms admitting to the authorities that we were together last night, I have no wish for my life to be gossip fodder, and if we continue, you know it shall be.' She attempted a lighthearted expression. 'Our affair had to end eventually. Given the circumstances, this is that time.'

Again silence swelled between them and she held her breath. Then he jerked his head in quick nod. 'You're right, of course. Our affair had to end eventually.'

His words ruthlessly extinguished that foolish flicker of hope. That he accepted her decision so lightly proved that in the end she'd meant nothing more to him than another sexual conquest. And proved beyond any doubt that she'd made the right decision. Still, being right didn't mean she didn't hurt. Pain and a deep despair she'd hoped never to experience again sawed through her.

Something must have shown on her face because he asked softly, 'What are you thinking?'

As she'd done so many times in the past, she pushed her heartache to the back of her mind, to be taken out and examined later, when she was alone. And could cry.

'I was thinking about Edward,' she answered honestly.

A shutter seemed to fall over his eyes, and he said nothing in reply.

They arrived at her town house a few minutes later and he escorted her inside. Nelson reported that nothing untoward had occurred in their absence and that he would keep watch at the front door through the night.

'I'll arrange for someone to guard the back of the house,' Daniel told her. 'You'll recall your promise not to go anywhere alone until this madman is apprehended.'

'You have my word.'

He looked as if he wanted to say something more, and her breath caught. He reached out and raised her hand to his mouth. Brushed his lips against the back of her gloved fingers. And then he did say something else.

'Good-bye, Carolyn.'

Without another word he turned and left. And her heart shattered into a million brittle fragments.

Chapter Twenty-one

Although I attempted to remain friends with my former lovers, it unfortunately didn't always work out that way. It is a sad fact of life that sometimes affairs just end badly.

Memoirs of a Mistress by An Anonymous Lady

Hidden from view by a row of neatly trimmed privet hedges, Daniel sat on the damp ground with his back resting against the stone wall that separated Carolyn's small garden from her neighbor's. Clouds obscured the moon, and the air felt thick and heavy with rain. He'd taken up his post within minutes after leaving Carolyn, going home only long enough to see if Samuel had returned. His footman had awaited him in the foyer and reported that he'd been unable to find the magistrate but finally located Mr. Mayne, who hadn't seemed overly impressed with his tale but nonetheless promised to call in the morning.

After instructing Samuel to keep guard at home, Daniel had stolen into Carolyn's garden and taken up his vigil. Armed with a pistol and his knife, he had no intention of allowing anyone to gain access to her house. If anyone had any designs to hurt her, they'd damn well have to accomplish the task over his lifeless body.

Lifeless… He blew out a long, slow breath. Bloody hell, that's exactly how he felt. Lifeless and numb. Defeated. Gutted.

Our affair had to end eventually. Her words echoed through his mind, cutting another oozing wound in his battered heart. Hadn't he intended to tell her the same thing? Yes, although he had to wonder if he actually would have been able to utter the words if she hadn't said them first. When she had, he wanted nothing more than to grab her and shake her. Force her to put the past behind her and stop worshipping a ghost.

I was thinking about Edward…

He briefly squeezed his eyes closed. He wanted to hate the man, but how did one hate a dead man? A man who'd been a friend? A man he'd liked and admired? A man who hadn't deserved to die at such a young age? He could understand that Carolyn would always love Edward, but why did she have to love only Edward?

When she'd told him their affair must end, his first strong, primal instinct had been to argue, but he forced himself not to. It was for the best, especially now, that he keep his physical distance from her, as he didn't want to bring danger her way. Perhaps, after all this was over, he could try to convince her-

He ruthlessly sliced off the thought. What was the point? She'd made her choice and had chosen her husband's memory. For him to try and convince her to prolong their affair would only humiliate them both. Rather than trying to accomplish the impossible task of finding a way to make her forget a man she'd never forget, he would be much better served to try to find a way to make himself fall out of love.

A tight, bitter sound clogged his throat. God, if only he could do so. Somewhere the gods must be laughing at him. That after a lifetime of scoffing at the notion of love, it had reached up and grabbed him, body and soul, and left him with nothing but a numb, empty space where his heart used to beat.

His gaze lifted to Carolyn's bedchamber window. To the small balcony over which he'd tossed a rope then scaled to enter her room. Had he truly thought he'd merely desired her body? Had wanted nothing more from her than sexual games? Had felt nothing beyond lust? He thunked his head against the cold, rough stone. What a bloody idiot he was.

He kept his vigil all through the night, senses on alert, ears attuned to any strange sounds, eyes ceaselessly scanning, but nothing suspicious occurred. It began to rain around three a.m., at first softly, but then more steadily, until the drops fell in a cold, silent sheet that plastered his hair and clothing to his chilled skin. By the time dawn broke, a barely discernable gray streak in the dreary, opaque sky, the rain had tapered off to a light drizzle.

Suddenly, a soft glow illuminated Carolyn's bed-chamber window. He instantly pictured her lighting a lamp. Rising from bed. Brushing her hair. Getting dressed. And wished with everything in him that he was in that room with her.

An hour passed before the light went out, a sign that she'd left her bedchamber, most likely to go to breakfast, and he realized that the rain had finally stopped. In a perfect match to his mood, the sky remained gloomy and overcast. He rose stiffly, his cold, cramped muscles protesting. He pushed his damp hair back with both hands and grimaced at the feel of wet clothing sticking to his skin. He'd go home and change his clothes then resume his vigil.

When he entered his foyer a few minutes later, Samuel and Barkley reported all was well. 'Not a peep o' disturbance, milord,' Samuel said.

'Excellent. I want you to keep watch in Lady Wingate's garden while I change clothes.'

'Yes, milord. Got me knife right here,' Samuel said, patting his boot. 'Won't nobody get by me.'

He departed through the rear of the house, and Daniel started up the stairs.

'Shall I arrange for a hot bath, my lord?' Barkley asked.

'No, thank you. Just breakfast and coffee.' He'd made it halfway up the stairs when the brass door knocker sounded.

Barkley peeked through the side window. ''Tis Mr. Mayne, my lord,' he reported in an undertone.

'Show him into the dining room and offer him breakfast. I'll join him shortly.' He took the remainder of the stairs two at a time, anxious to change, complete his business with Mayne, then resume his watch in Carolyn's garden.

Ten minutes later he strode into the dining room, noting that Mayne was only drinking coffee. After exchanging greetings with the Runner, Daniel asked, 'Where's Rayburn?'

Mayne frowned. 'He said he had other matters to attend to. I'll report to him later.'