Chapter 20

As angry and hurt as he felt learning Ada hadn’t told him the truth, Max had to wonder if she’d been right. Perhaps he was too fragile. Just look at him, hands shaking, breathing shallow, pulse racing.

It was more than that. She’d kept something from him. Something vital and intrinsic to who she was, while he’d revealed everything. He thought they’d shared a singular connection.

The knock on the door didn’t surprise him. He stood there, silently, pondering what to do.

“Max, are you in there? Can I please talk to you?” Ada’s voice was dark and anguished.

Without thinking, he went and opened the door.

She was pale, her eyes wide. “May I come in?”

He stepped aside without a word and closed the door behind her. Had it just been a short while ago that they’d shared such fierce, wonderful passion?

Turning toward him, she clutched her hands together anxiously. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you the truth about Jonathan. It wasn’t because I thought you couldn’t manage it.” She looked away, her cheeks coloring with shame. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d think less of me given what your father had done. Just earlier, you were telling me about the anger you felt toward Lady Peterborough. I am Lady Peterborough—or I was anyway. I couldn’t bear your disdain.”

This hadn’t been about protecting him. She’d wanted to protect herself. He couldn’t think of what to say.

He wanted to say that he wouldn’t have been angry with her for carrying on with her married employer, but fidelity was important to him. Whether that was because of the strong love he’d felt for Lucia and that he now felt for Ada or due to his father’s unfaithfulness, he didn’t know. It was likely all of that.

One thing he did know—he wanted to understand. If he could. “You were his governess?”

“Yes. He and his wife had an unhappy marriage. They didn’t love one another.”

“He took advantage of you.” Max despised men who used their positions of power to corrupt, especially when they used it to manipulate women.

She turned from him and went to stand in front of the hearth, her head cast down. “I hadn’t thought of him taking advantage of me, but Evie said he did and then Lucien did and now you are. I just wanted someone to care for and someone to care for me. I think in some ways, he felt the same.”

The wounded man inside him felt compassion for that young woman, but not for her employer. “No man should engage in an affair with his employee, no matter how he feels about her.” He realized he could never have hired Ada to be his steward. There would be no greater torture than having her near and maintaining his distance.

He stared at her back, his insides blistering. “Lucien and Evie knew all about this. You insisted I bare all to you, that you wouldn’t judge me, yet you wouldn’t give me the same courtesy?” He felt as though he’d been gut punched.

She faced him, pain etching her features. “I didn’t think of it like that. I’m so sorry.” She sniffed. “You are such an honorable man. I’ve let you down, and I’m so ashamed.”

Why would she have thought of it like that? They’d made no promises or commitment to one another. She wasn’t in love with him, not like he was with her. Nor had he even told her.

“Don’t be ashamed. You know I’m nowhere near honorable.” In fact, he’d all but announced to the entire club that she’d been unwed and carrying that man’s child. “I hope I didn’t ruin things for you downstairs. I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

She shook her head. “Please don’t concern yourself with that. I’m sorry you were so shocked—that’s entirely my fault, not yours.”

“You don’t owe me your darkest secrets. You don’t owe me anything.” He wasn’t angry anymore, but the hurt remained. He was such a bloody disaster. Still. And he had to expect he always would be. She ought to marry someone like Hemmings. He could offer her a real future, stability. Even if she didn’t love him.

“I’m not marrying him. I don’t love him.”

Had she heard his thoughts? “I’m going to return home tomorrow,” he said. “I want to thank you for all you’ve done for Stonehill. And for me.” Parting in this manner was for the best. Anything else would have been difficult and messy.

She nodded. “I will always be here for you if you need me. I hope you’ll let me know if I can help with Stonehill.”

He wouldn’t. “Certainly.”

He could see she was upset. But he didn’t want to say anything to change that. This was easier—for both of them.

Going to the door, Max opened it. “Good night, Ada.”

She walked toward him, pausing at the threshold. “Good night.” Outside the door, she looked back over her shoulder. “And goodbye.”

Max closed the door and rested his forehead against the wood. The joy he’d felt earlier seemed a distant memory. He wondered if he’d ever feel it again—how familiar that fear was to him.

Pushing away from the door, he went in search of the Irish whiskey he’d had the forethought to ask a footman to bring to his room the day before. Tonight, he would banish his emotions, and tomorrow, he’d return to Stonehill, where he was quite adept at keeping himself stoic.

He just hoped he discovered how to get through the pain of loss—again—without falling into despair.

After sending his cases downstairs, Max made his way to Lucien’s office. He’d spent a perfectly horrid night not sleeping. He wasn’t sure what was worse—the nightmares or not being able to sleep because he was plagued by doubt and uncertainty.

Leaving was the right course of action. There was no reason for him to stay in London.

Lucien stood from his desk as Max stepped into the doorway. “Morning! What happened last night? I heard you were in the club, but I didn’t see you.”

“My shoulder was aching,” he lied. “I turned in early. I wanted to be fresh for today. I thought I might try riding Arrow for at least part of the trip.”

Lucien’s brows jumped. “Wonderful! He should be here shortly. I imagine you’re looking forward to seeing him.”

“I am, actually.” More than Max would have thought. He’d missed his horse. It was just one of the emotions he’d quashed since returning to England.

This reunion with Arrow felt right. He wished he’d been the one to realize he wanted it. But as with everything else in his life since Spain, he’d needed others to give him the push, to make him realize what he ought to do.

“Have you said all your goodbyes?” Lucien asked. “I imagine it will be a while until you return to town.”

Max ignored his question. “I suppose I’ll come back when Parliament reconvenes.”

Lucien grimaced. “I’m afraid you may be an earl by then. I did put it out that you didn’t think the elevation was necessary, but the general consensus is that you deserve it and changing the title from viscount to earl is easier than awarding you a new title.”

“Is it?” As a second son, Max had never paid any attention to that nonsense.

“How should I know? I know as much as you about such things.” Lucien started toward him. “Come, let’s go down to the dining room so we can see when Arrow arrives.”

Max turned and accompanied Lucien downstairs, where they immediately encountered Glastonbury.

“Morning, Warfield, Lucien.” Glastonbury looked to Max. “I brought Prudence to meet Miss Treadway and thought I’d come see if you’d left.”

Damn. Max glanced toward the ladies’ side of the club. He really ought to say goodbye to Prudence before he left since he hadn’t seen her last night. He had, however, sent her a note that morning. Besides, he couldn’t just wander into their side of the club, and that had nothing to do with the paralyzing certainty that he’d encounter Ada.

“You seem a bit pained, Max,” Lucien noted. “Everything all right?”

“I was just thinking I could say goodbye to Prudence in person since she’s here.”

“Actually, I think they just left,” Glastonbury said. “They’re taking an excursion on the Thames.”

They were? Damn and blast. Max had wanted to take Ada onto the water, to help her conquer her fear. She’d done so much for him. Despite that, she’d said she’d let him down. She could never do that.

He’dlet her down. He’d turned away from her last night. He’d done the absolute wrong thing, which was to retreat into himself when things became too difficult.

Bollocks.What was he doing?

“You’re sure that’s all?” Lucien asked.

“No,” Max whispered. He wasn’t sure of anything. Except one thing—he loved Ada. “I’m afraid I’m broken. That I’m not a whole person.”

Lucien stepped closer. “You aren’t broken, and you are a whole person. You’ve come so far. Don’t lose hope.”

“I’d echo that sentiment, if I may,” Glastonbury said quietly. “I feared I was broken for a very long time—most of my life, really. My, ah, family has a mental affliction that occurs in many of us, and I was certain I would be affected.”

Lucien blinked at him. “I didn’t realize that.”

“I worked very hard to keep it hidden. My father was terribly afflicted. It is the reason he nearly bankrupted the viscountcy.” Glastonbury smiled weakly. “I loved him, but he was exhausting. And terrifying. I never knew what kind of day it would be, whether he’d be happy and more like himself or disconsolate and difficult.”

Max’s blood went cold. Glastonbury could have been describing him. He’d been that person, and anyone at Stonehill could attest to that. Hell, even Lucien could. Max darted a glance toward Lucien and flinched inwardly to see that he was watching him.

“You are not like that,” Lucien said, accurately assuming what was racing through Max’s mind.

“The hell I’m not.” Max’s shoulders tensed, and pain shot from his wound. “I’ve made a horrible mistake.”

“You’re getting better,” Lucien argued. “And it started when she came to visit.”

He didn’t have to say who “she” was.

Glastonbury looked from Max to Lucien and back again. “Are we talking about Ada? Prudence thinks there’s something between her and you.”

“There is.” That came from Lucien, not Max.

Max curled his hands into fists and held his breath, neither of which he did on purpose. His body had simply tightened up.

Lucien’s dark brows pitched into a V. “Dammit, don’t make me meddle.” He exhaled. “You’re going to make me meddle. Don’t try to deny there’s anything between you and Ada. I know all about the scene in the members’ den last night. I didn’t realize Huxton’s guest would be that dolt who’d come to see Ada earlier in the day.”

Max stared at Lucien. “That’s what you were referring to yesterday when we walked back from Evesham House. You bloody well should have meddled then.”

Lucien put a hand on his hip. “Indeed? What would you have done? Would anything be different this morning?”

No, because Max was the dolt. And he was paralyzed by fear. “I can’t lose her like I lost Lucia.” His voice was barely audible.

“So it’s better to leave her?” Lucien shook his head. “That makes no sense.”

Glastonbury grinned. “It makes perfect sense. Fear makes us do incredibly stupid things—I should know. And fear when we’re in love? Well, that makes us complete idiots.” He pinned Max with a serious stare. “Do you want her?”

“I do. But I don’t think she wants me. Not…forever.”

“Why wouldn’t she?”

“I told you. I’m broken.”

Lucien snorted. “That wouldn’t deter Ada. She’d spend her life fixing you and be happy to do it.”

Max glowered at him and realized he hadn’t glowered at anyone in a while now. The muscles felt a bit tired. “I don’t want to be her project.” He wanted to be her equal. Someone she trusted and shared herself with—and he would show her he could be that person. That he was that person.

“I daresay she doesn’t see you that way, not if she loves you in return.”

“I don’t know how she could. I’m a total disaster. Furthermore, she has a life she loves here in London. There’s nothing I could offer her at Stonehill that she could want.”

Glastonbury shook his head. “Except you. Perhaps you are a dolt. I jest.” He gave Max a plaintive look. “Can I give you some advice? Well, I’m going to anyway. Don’t think that you can’t possibly deserve her—that’s not up to you. That’s her decision, and she will likely surprise you.”

Max was always going to be afraid of losing her—he was fairly certain that was part of him now after Lucia. But letting Ada go was worse. He had to stop letting things happen. He wanted her. He loved her. And he damn well needed to tell her so.

He turned to Lucien, who shrugged. “I don’t know that she’d leave the Phoenix Club. But if you don’t tell her how you feel, you’ll never know.” His gaze moved to the window. “I think your coach just arrived.”

“Good.” Max pivoted toward Glastonbury. “Where on the Thames did they go?”

“To the Horse Ferry to take a wherry. They are going to Somerset House, where a coach will meet them.”

Max didn’t have gloves or a hat, but he didn’t care. “Lucien, keep Arrow for me until I return.”

“Don’t hold anything back, Warfield!” Glastonbury called after him.

Waving his hand in response, Max dashed out the door and ran to the coach. “Og, to the Horse Ferry with the utmost haste.”

“What the devil?”

“Hurry!” Max climbed into the coach and slammed the door. A moment later, they were on their way.

Instead of fear, he felt hope. Whatever happened, this was right. It was what he needed to do.

He’d certainly been an idiot last night. She’d been so distraught. And that had been due to her own fear that he would reject her if he knew the truth about her affair with her married employer.

She’d been right to be afraid. He had rejected her. He’d used it as an excuse to assuage his own fear.

He hated that he’d hurt her. After everything she’d done for him, all the ways in which she’d guided him from the dark, he’d pushed her aside. She deserved far better. She deserved everything.

Ada was a light, and whenever he was with her, he felt hope. What had started as a glimmer as she’d worn down his defenses had become a shining beacon. He didn’t want to carry on without her. He didn’t want to return to the wilderness without her by his side.

She was the star he was meant to follow.