Chapter 26

CHAPTER26

Amy was the happiest she had ever been in a long time. In fact, she could not even remember a time she had ever been this elated.

As she sat there, enjoying a sumptuous dinner with Evan, Lord Drew, and Esther in the Leonbridge Estate, she could not help but feel that this was exactly how her life ought to be. Although the presence of the Marquess of Repington had somewhat dampened the mood, it was fortunate that he remained mostly silent throughout most of the party.

From what she had gathered, he and Evan had some sort of disagreement that she was not privy to, and it was only tonight that the three friends had been able to gather together once more.

She might not agree with most of what he considered to be right, but Amy was not about to ruin a particularly good night. Perhaps it was because she was already quite happy herself that she felt she could be a tad bit more magnanimous in other aspects.

If he does not say something insulting, then I shall hold my tongue. It seems only fair...

She looked across the table to where Esther and the Viscount had their heads together, happy smiles on their faces, and Amy could not help but smile to herself at the sight. She felt a slight squeeze to her hand, and she tilted her head to find Evan smiling softly at her as well.

The only one who seemed less than happy about the entire affair was the Marquess, but that was perhaps because he was the odd one out. Amy, of course, was not one to suggest that he find some random young lady to bring with him since she found that insulting to him. She was also not about to play matchmaker to a man whose views on relationships between men and women were in direct contradiction to her own.

So, she smiled and carried on with the lighthearted conversation over the dinner table.

Sometime later, the men adjourned to the drawing room for some cigars and brandy while she and Esther were to head off to the salon. However, Amy noticed that she was missing one of the earrings she had worn that night, so she urged her friend to proceed to the salon first.

"Are you sure you are all right?" Esther asked her in concern. "I could help you look for it."

Amy smiled at her friend. Esther had rather bad eyesight—a fact that Lady Farthingon attributed to the countless nights she spent poring over her beloved books.

"No, you go on ahead, dearest. I shall be right behind you. It should not be far from here."

Esther frowned. "Oh... all right then."

As Amy bent down and peered under the table in search of her missing earring, she was made vaguely aware of a pair of handsomely crafted boots falling into step just beside her. She frowned and looked up to find the Marquess of Repington sneering coldly at her.

"A woman on her knees," he remarked. "Have you finally found your rightful place, Lady Amy Clarke?"

She glared hatefully at him. Truly, the man could not help but spew his venom wherever he went.

"Has your mother never told you that you are rather rude, My Lord?" she asked him scathingly.

"A woman cannot dictate my actions," he retorted. "Although, I must congratulate His Grace, for without your cooperation, he would not have won the bet."

Amy felt her heart start to beat faster in her chest. "What bet?"

"Oh?" he smirked. "I suppose he neglected to tell you that he and Lord Drew had made a bet that he would be able to win your heart."

No! That’s not true!Amy wanted to scream at him. She took a step back from the Marquess, but he stepped forward, matching her.

"I thought he was going to lose, actually," he mused. "He kept going on and on about how crazy you were, how he could hardly stand a woman like you. He even told us that he could not wait for the bet to be over…"

"You are lying!" she seethed. "You are an unhappy scoundrel, and you’re lying because—"

"Because I’m jealous?" he scoffed. "Please, Lady Clarke—you and I both know that I do not desire the kind of existence His Grace pretends to enjoy with you. Why would I ever want to be with such a bold, brazen woman who does not know her place?"

No... it cannot be. Evan told me... he told me that he was happy with me. That he appreciated me for who I am...

"Poor Lady Amy," Charles sneered. "You truly thought that a man like the Duke of Leonbridge would be content to play house with you? He was only humoring you for the sake of the bet. But then again, I thought you knew about it and were only cooperating with him."

His words felt like nails being hammered into the coffin of her heart. Charles Lock could not possibly be lying about this. What would he get out of it, except ruining the friendship he had with Evan?

It was true that his attitude left more to be desired, but certainly, he would not go so far as to sow discord between her and one of his closest friends just for the sheer entertainment of it.

As much as she wanted to think that it was all a lie, she only had to look up to the Marquess of Repington to know that he was telling her the truth—every awful, sordid bit of it.

How could I have been so blind?Amy raged to herself. How could I have been so foolish as to fall for the charms of a known rake? Have I not learned my lesson from Andrew Clarence?

But those who unfortunately failed their lesson had always been doomed to repeat it, and Amy had no one but herself to blame. She should have known better, should have known that it was nigh impossible for a man like Evan Hatcher to pick her out of a ballroom full of far more beautiful and agreeable young ladies.

Why would he choose her out of all of them if not for a stupid bet?

"Amy, is everything all right? Lady Esther told me that you had misplaced your earring."

Amy froze at the sound of that dear, familiar voice. Where her heart once thrilled when she heard it, she now felt a keen pain stabbing into her chest.

"I will be going now," she told him coldly.

"What?" His look of confusion made her want to retch. "But why so soon? Are you feeling unwell?"

She raised her tear-filled gaze to him, now cold as ice shards. "Yes, I am. Perhaps, Lord Repington can explain it to you."

Before he could say anything else, she dashed past him and called for her carriage.

Forgive me, Esther, she apologized to her friend. I will have to leave now, or I will break down entirely.

Even with a broken heart, she was not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her crumble.

* * *

Evan looked to Charles in confusion and feeling of dread sank into the pit of his belly. His old friend had on an expression of extreme nonchalance over the whole affair. There was even a glint of triumph in his pale blue eyes.

"What the hell did you tell her?" he asked the Marquess, his voice soft and dangerous. "Amy would not have run off like that if you had not told her something."

"Me? Well, I just told her the truth since you did not seem like you were able to," Charles sneered at him.

Evan stepped back from him in horror. "You what?"

The Marquess brushed off an imaginary speck of dirt from his sleeve. "You might not appreciate it right now, but you will in the future. I could not allow my best friend to be swayed by a woman—and one like Amy Clarke at that."

"Have you gone insane?" Evan raged. "That woman—as you so kindly refer to her—is the woman I love. The woman I plan on making my wife!"

Charles had the temerity to look aghast at the revelation. "You are mad. You have gone absolutely mad!"

Evan closed his eyes, tamping down the urge to kill the man before him. When he opened them, they were filled with rage.

"I have to go after her," he told the Marquess. "I have to explain everything to her. When I get back, you had best be gone already, or heaven help me, I will not be held responsible for what I do to you!"

"You cannot be serious!" Charles roared at him, reaching for his arm. "Are you going to lower yourself for a mere woman?"

Evan shrugged Charles’ grip off and glared at him. "That woman is the woman I love! If you cannot get that into your head, Charles Lock, then we had best sever all ties we have until you see it!"

He left Charles standing there in the dining hall, looking shocked at the sheer rage Evan had displayed.

Their friendship, as far as Evan was concerned, could not be mended in the near future.

* * *

Evan found Amy standing outside, just as she was about to board her carriage.

"Halt!" he called out to the coach. "You are not to leave without my permission!"

The coachman looked shocked and held onto his reins, murmuring to the horses to keep them calm.

Evan dashed over to find Amy already seated inside the carriage. "Amy, my sweet, please... let me explain."

She tilted her chin defiantly at him. "What is there to explain, Your Grace? You have played me for a fool. That is all there is to it."

"No, that is not all there is to it!" he snapped. "Please, Amy, come down, and we can talk about this."

She choked out a bitter laugh and shook her head. "Did you know that I went along with your game because I, too, made a challenge with my own father?"

Evan shook his head at that. Amy was merely heartbroken, and that was why she felt the need to hurt him back in equal measure. He was going to take it, dammit, because she meant the world to him.

"Oh, but it’s true," she sneered, even as tears threatened to trail down her cheeks. "You can ask Lady Esther. You can even ask my own father. I only went along with you because we made a deal that if I endured this Season without refusing anybody, he would finally give me leave to retire to our country home as a spinster." She burst out laughing at that. "A spinster! Because I never wanted to get married at all!"

Evan could not believe what he was hearing. He knew that Amy could be rather sharp with her tongue, but right now, she was being excessively cruel. She was telling him that she would prefer a lifetime ostracized by the rest of Society rather than stay with him.

"Your Grace, please let go of me," she told him quietly. "This is the end of the road for both of us. I... I do not ever want to see you again."

No!Evan wanted to scream. No, it cannot be the end for us...not when I can only see the rest of my life with you.

But his hand fell limply to the side, and Amy took the chance to finally close the carriage door in his face. He hardly heard her call out to the coachman to take her back to Irington Estate, hardly heard the clatter of the horses’ hooves upon the pavement as she left.

It was as if his heart had gone cold and numb at the same time. As if a bitter frost had come over him.

She was gone, and with her, she had taken his heart.

How was he supposed to get it back?