"Oh, Sean." She leapt the small distance between them, wrapping her arms around him, burrowing her nose into the crook of his neck where she could inhale his warm male scent. "I love you, too," she told him again, the words muffled against his skin. "I was waiting to tell you. Everything was so complicated. But now it's over, and we'll work this out. It will be difficult, but—"
"Corinna. You don't understand." He unwrapped her arms and set her away, far enough to meet her eyes, to capture them with his compelling emerald gaze. "I cannot marry you. There isn't anything I want more in the world, but it's impossible."
"No." That couldn't be. "This wasn't your fault. You didn't even want to do it. You did it for your sister, and for Lincolnshire—you made him happy. You shouldn't have to suffer—we shouldn't have to suffer—because you did the right thing."
"I'm not saying I did the wrong thing. I did the only thing I could. But no one ever promised life would be fair. The people in your social circle aren't going to countenance my lying to such a well-respected man; nor will they ever forgive me for fooling them."
"I don't care. I don't need the people in my social circle. I love you. I want to be with you. If they won't forgive you, if they make our life here too uncomfortable, we'll go to Ireland—"
"Your art would be shunned no matter where you made it. You'd never be admitted to the Royal Academy."
"Sharing my life with you is more important than the Royal Academy. I don't care about that, either."
"I care." He caught her close again and captured her gaze once more. "And should you marry me, Corinna, you and I aren't the only ones who would be shut out of society. Your family would be ostracized as well."
A hole opened up inside her, robbing her of breath.
Alexandra and Juliana, Griffin and Rachael, Frances and the cousins…should she stay with Sean and bear the consequences, they, too, would be rejected by all of society.
She couldn't do that to them.
She was willing to give up her personal dreams in trade for Sean, to condemn herself to a life apart from all she'd known. That would be artistic…wild, passionate, romantic. But she couldn't take her family with her.
She'd be more selfish than Hamilton should she do that.
Her heart cracked, and she could see in Sean's eyes that he felt the same. His overwhelming sadness, his staggering weariness, his battered appearance…understanding all of that now, feeling it herself, she moved into his arms.
They clutched each other, held each other close for a long, long time, wrapped in a cocoon of anguish while sobs racked her body and despair claimed her soul.
And then, when she'd cried herself dry, when there was nothing left inside her but a vast, aching emptiness, he walked her home in silence.
FIFTY-ONE
AS FRIDAY afternoon slid into evening, Corinna stood alone in Lincolnshire House's yellow drawing room, wearing a black dress that matched her mood.
Excited voices drifted from the crowded salon, where a reception was being held following Lord Lincolnshire's burial. More babbling came from the entrance hall, where the crowd spilled out. Ladies very rarely attended funerals, so Sean had arranged the reception to allow the women in the earl's social circle a chance to pay their respects.
She'd wager he hadn't anticipated such a crush. He wasn't part of the crush, of course, and she'd been told he hadn't attended the ceremony, either. The reception should have been a polite gathering, the guests soft-spoken and sober rather than excited. But tongues had been wagging ever since this morning, when John Hamilton had shown up at Westminster Abbey and announced he was the next Earl of Lincolnshire.
As she was female, Corinna hadn't been present to witness that, but she'd heard all about it. The men at the funeral had been astonished, to say the least. The new Lord Lincolnshire had informed them that his impostor's name was Sean Delaney, and Sean's reputation had been torn to threads before the reception even began.
Just as he'd predicted, she thought now with a heavyhearted sigh.
For the past two days, lines from Minerva Press novels had run through her head annoyingly, unceasingly. Pamela thinking life is no life without you, and Ethelinde deciding hope seemed to be excluded from her heart, and how, in Children of the Abbey, Amanda had cried, the hand of fate is against our union, and we must part, never, never more to meet!
But although she'd known Sean was right and there was no way they could be together, some small part of her must have been holding out hope, because somehow she'd managed to get through those two days without completely falling apart.
She'd buried herself in her art, locked herself in her room and fixed Lord Lincolnshire's portrait. That had kept her from thinking too much and from facing her brother or anyone else. The picture was finished, and she'd brought it over this morning while Griffin was away at the funeral.
Lord Lincolnshire's house steward, Mr. Higginbotham, had praised the portrait mightily and promised to find somewhere to hang it immediately. Unaware at the time of the trouble brewing in Westminster Abbey, he'd also praised "Mr. Hamilton," telling her each of the staff had received letters that morning with details of their new assignments, to begin Monday.
After she'd left, Mr. Higginbotham had hung the portrait in the yellow drawing room, on the wall behind the armchair where Lord Lincolnshire had been sitting when Corinna first offered to paint it. She gazed at it now, thinking it seemed the right place for it. Above the chair like that, it almost seemed as though the dear earl were still sitting there.
The portrait was mounted beside a Rembrandt, and it
