He got up and gathered his clothing from the floor, piling it in his arms without putting any of it on. As she watched him, she shook her head and sat up. She’d been drawn in by this man, intrigued by him, connected to him, felt guilty for what she’d cost him. But in the weeks they had spent together she had never felt angry with him. Until that moment.
“You coward,” she whispered.
He jerked his head up and glared at her. “What did you call me?”
“A coward,” she repeated. “Today I almost lost you, Oscar. So what does that mean? Can you say it? Can you face it?”
He stared at her, unblinking for what felt like a lifetime. Then he shook his head. “This was sex, Imogen. Don’t confuse it or we both risk…we risk something I’m not willing to risk.”
He didn’t wait for her response, he just stepped out of the room, completely naked, and shut the door behind himself, leaving her alone with the realization that this man already loved her.
And that he might never allow himself to nurture that, or her. That broke her more than almost anything else she’d faced in the last lonely year of her life.
She threw a pillow at the door with a grunt and then flopped back on the bed, letting her arm come over her eyes. She’d hoped that after today, she might have some answers about what to do next.
But there were only more questions than ever.
Oscar was on his third drink when there was a knock at the small chamber’s door. He glanced up at it, his heart jumping almost out of his chest.
“Imogen?” he said as he moved to the door, but when he opened it, only the butler for the safe house stood there.
“I apologize for the interruption, sir, but you have a visitor.”
“A visitor?” Oscar said, blinking at the man as he tried to clear his foggy head. “Who would know we’re here?”
“There is no danger, I assure you,” the butler said. “She comes with a password from the Duke of Willowby, himself, or she would not have been allowed in. I only didn’t know if you’d like to see someone in your current…er…” He glanced down, and Oscar tightened his dressing gown at his waist. “Your current state.”
“Who is it?” he asked.
“Miss Joanna Fitzhugh,” he said.
“My mother,” Oscar said, and shook his head. “And have you also knocked on Mrs. Huxley’s door?” He winced at that thought. He wasn’t sure he had the strength to face Imogen after what he’d said and done.
“The maid who assisted her earlier said that she was asleep, so I didn’t think it wise. But I can rouse her if you’d like,” the butler said.
“No. Let her sleep. She’s earned that,” Oscar said softly. “And yes, I’ll see my mother. Give me a moment and I’ll meet her downstairs.”
“Very good.” The butler bowed away and left him.
Oscar sighed. He had been in hiding for all of a handful of hours, but of course his mother would find him straight away. Through Will, no doubt, since he would have come in contact with the Duke of Willowby when he arrived to survey the damage to the club, as he had been called to do.
And now Oscar would have to face her, with all her ability to read him. With all her pointed questions and looks. While he was slightly drunk, no less, and reeling from how he had treated Imogen after they made love.
He opened the drawers in the room and found a few items there that would fit him. As he dressed himself, slowly thanks to his drunken state and his injured arm, he thought about Imogen.
Of course he hadn’t stopped thinking about her the entire time he’d been drinking to make himself do just that. When he’d recognized that he loved her, it had been the most terrifying moment of his life. Oh, he’d been in danger before, both during the time he’d been watching her and before. But that was physical threat. Loving her? That was a threat to his very core.
That was a threat to his heart and his mind and his soul.
And what had he done? Followed his instinct, of course, and tried to fuck his way out of those feelings. Tried to put up walls to her and to his own heart. Tried to make himself forget that he loved her, which meant he was vulnerable to every single thing in this world that could rip her away from him.
And Imogen, in her strength and her warmth and her sunshine, which changed his whole world…had defied him. Forcing him to sink into her instead of pull away. Forcing him to love her more, even if he’d told her that he couldn’t or wouldn’t.
Seeing the hurt in her stare when he said those words, knowing she was right when she called him a coward…he would never forget that moment until he took his dying breath.
He tucked his shirt into his trousers and sighed. He couldn’t think about any of that when he faced Joanna. He had to wipe it all away, challenging as that had somehow become.
He made his way back to the parlor where the Duchess of Willowby had tended his wound earlier in the night, and drew a long breath before he entered. His mother was standing at the sideboard, a drink in hand as she glared at the door, awaiting his arrival.
The moment he entered, she set her glass aside and crossed to him. Her arms came around him and she hugged him tightly. “My love.”
“I’m fine, Mama,” he said. Lied. He lied. “I assume Will was the one who told you what happened.”
“Yes. And he knew I would insist on coming to see you, so he got the information and password from this duke.” She laughed, but it was a raw sound. “The trouble you get yourself in, son.”
“I’m trying to
