Was it truly that damn simple?
He didn’t know. But was that even the point? What happened to the conviction he had clung to at the disastrous bloody tea party? It had dwindled, that’s what. He couldn’t even remember why he had done what he’d done. Silkin, yes. But what the hell of him? The blackguard would be gone soon. Did the wildflower even have to know about this part of him? He could hide it all his life if need be. If it meant he could always see her smile. So why had he been such an idiot?
It won’t work.
For how long could a man split himself in two before one half started rotting the other? He didn’t know when the wanting-out had started. Somewhere between the first moment he saw her and the last, probably. He only knew that some nights, lying awake running through Silkin’s downfall, he’d catch himself wishing he could simplystop.Not because he’d forgiven the man. God, no. But because he was so damned tired of carrying him.
He just didn’t know how a man put down twenty years of purpose and still knew who he was after.
“What else are you going to do?” Wrath asked. “What comes after all your revenge? What comes after all this destruction?”
“Why don’t you bloody tell me, oh wise one,” Julien muttered, taking another swig. The man knew just how to take a hammer to his heart.
“Your grave, Mandeville. That’s what comes next if you don’t claim the only person who could drag you back out. Go get the woman you love. Make her yours. Christ, you’d save me a lot of trouble in the future.”
The woman he loved . . .
Ah, Christ. “She hates me.”
“You don’t know that.”
Julien shook his head. “No, she doesn’t want me near her. I ruined everything. I don’t know how to face her.” He suddenly laughed. “It seems I’ve dug my grave after all.” And he, the empty, lonely, corpse, just needed to lie in it.
“You can still climb out.”
Could he?
Harsh laughter bellowed through the room, and Julien lifted his head to scowl at the disturbance. Who the devil—
Christ.
Just what he needed.
No, you fool.Exactlywhat he needed. His mind raced with a plan. If he didn’t have the confidence to face his wildflower by himself, what better way than be dragged to her feet. Julien rose from the table. “Well, well, what do we have here?” He sent the man a saucy grin. “Zachary Price. How’s your sister doing?”
Chapter 11
“Elowyn!”
Elowyn shot upright at the bellow that must have echoed through the whole house. She met the wide eyes of Isadora and Persephone. All three of them scrambled from the bed and rushed from the chamber. Her brother hadnevercalled her name in such a way. Not even when he was at his most furious. Something must have happened. Something that warranted such a heartfelt roar.
This could only be about one thing.
She dashed down the stairwell, friends in tow, but came to an abrupt halt on the last step as a horrible sight filled her vision. The Duke of Mandeville on the floor, held up by the collar by her brother, face bloodied to a pulp. Her eyes flew to her brother, ready to scold him, but the sight of his equally pummeled face had her swallowing all her harsh words for a heart-stuttering second.
Then she demanded, “What did you do, Zachary? You promised to leave him alone!”
At her voice, Mandeville lifted his face with a bloody grin. “Elowyn.”
“Lord,” Persephone muttered behind her. “Has he lost his mind?”
“I didn’t seek him out,” Zachary defended. “I ran into him at White’s. He bloody outright taunted me.”
Mandeville taunted her brother? Why in the world would he do that? “Carry him to the drawing room, right now!” She pointed to a hovering footman. “Get me the medicine chest.”
“Yes, my lady.” The man scurried off.
“I’m not carrying him,” her brother protested, releasing the duke with a look of distaste.