He nodded. “I will,” he said, and they both knew he was agreeing to more than just her last admonishment.
“Goodnight, love. Send word when you can, and know that Will and I are protecting your interests until this is over.”
She slipped away as he called out, “Goodnight.”
And when she was gone, when he was alone in the big parlor, he moved to the fire and stood there, mesmerized once again by the flames. The very thoughts his mother had encouraged him to pursue rose up in him, overtaking him. The same thoughts he’d been avoiding since he first met Imogen.
Since before he met her.
It was going to be a long night.
Chapter 23
Imogen entered the breakfast room the next morning and expected she would be alone. It was early, after all. She’d hoped too early for Oscar, since she had heard from the maid assigned to her by the Willowbys that he hadn’t slept much last night.
And yet there he was at the head of the table. He pushed to his feet as she entered, and she caught her breath. He was entirely pulled together. Dressed impeccably, not a hair out of place, his beard neatly trimmed. His brow furrowed and his dark gaze held on her as she walked to the place at his right. If he hadn’t slept last night, it did nothing to reduce the command he had of this room or any other.
“Good morning,” he said, his voice rough.
She nodded as politely as she could while she took her seat. “Good morning, Oscar.”
He sat back down and she let her gaze flit over him again. He was wearing a coat, waistcoat and shirt she hadn’t seen before. Certainly not the ones that had been torn and made bloody by the carnage yesterday. “They had clothing brought for you, as well, it seems.”
He glanced at himself. “There were items in the wardrobe in my room. These fit. I might nick the waistcoat, if I’m honest.”
She smiled at the way he puffed up his chest so she could see the intricate brocading in the fabric better. “It does suit you. Do you need your wound cleaned?”
He shook his head. “No. I asked the valet this morning and he obliged.”
“Ah.”
She glanced up at the footman who had brought her a plate laden with food. It was good he had interrupted when he did. She hated to show Oscar her disappointment in his response. It was foolish, after all. Having the valet do the duty was a perfectly reasonable idea. Only she felt a little jealous. According to Diana, Imogen had been meant to help him. It seemed he was finding any way he could not to allow it.
The chasm that had opened between them after they made love seemed to be widening with every passing moment. Their time together was almost over, and it felt like Oscar was preparing himself…preparing her…for when it would be at its close.
“You look beautiful,” he said.
She glanced down at herself. The gowns the Duchess of Willowby had sent over fit Imogen perfectly. Better than Louisa’s old dresses. This one was a gray-blue with a lace overlay that cascaded across the skirt.
Honestly, she was pleased to be out of Louisa’s hand-me-downs. They were always a reminder that Oscar found a way to put up walls, to escape furthering his connection. He’d done it to his previous lover. He was doing it now to her.
“Thank you.”
An awkward silence fell over them for a moment as he stared at her. Then he opened his mouth. “Imogen…I wanted to talk to you about…about last night.” He stopped and shook his head. “No. It’s about more than last night. It’s about so many nights since I met you.”
“Oh?” she whispered, her hands shaking as she set her fork down and looked at him. He looked truly troubled, and her heart leapt. “What is it?”
He ran a hand through his hair and was about to speak again when the butler appeared in the doorway. “I’m sorry to disturb your breakfast, Mr. Fitzhugh, Mrs. Huxley, but the Duke and Duchess of Willowby are here.”
Imogen’s eyes went wide as she looked at Oscar. “They said they wouldn’t call until this afternoon. Something must have happened.”
He pursed his lips at the interruption, but tossed his napkin aside. “I suppose we should find out what.”
He offered her an arm, and she got up and took it. Even with so much unsaid and undone between them, having him at her side as they went across the hall to the parlor was a comfort. Perhaps she shouldn’t have allowed it to be when she knew he wanted to separate them, but it still was.
She loved him. His demand that she stop, his reminder that he couldn’t or wouldn’t return the emotion, wasn’t enough to change her heart.
In the parlor, the Duke and Duchess of Willowby were standing by the window. Along with them were Derrick Huntington and his partner, Edward Barber. After the pleasantries were exchanged, Oscar tilted his head. “I’m shocked Selina didn’t join you. And the rest of my family. I honestly expected the great Duke of Roseford to descend upon my head himself.”
Imogen heard the strain in his voice and clung to his arm a little tighter. If he offered her strength, she wanted to do the same if she could.
Willowby pursed his lips. Imogen knew he was friends with Oscar’s estranged brother. It was clear he didn’t like the attitude Oscar held toward him. “I know he would like to come, but I asked that the family limit their involvement in this. There are already a great many high emotions as it is. They can only serve to confuse matters and endanger all of us.”
“I
