Roses and Flames

Chapter 40

“Yes,” Patrick said, “for it was quite true. I am sorry that things were as they were. But that is past. We have waited long enough to be together.”

“We have waited too long, I think. Now there is no future for us. I don’t think there can be.”

The playful and clever girl he remembered was gone. The woman standing before him was sadder and wiser than he had ever wanted her to become. And he did not want to be the fault of it.

“What we have shared means nothing to you?”

“Of course it means something,” she said urgently. “But meaning is not the same thing as promised. If you stay, we will go on as we have been. I cannot give myself fully to you because of my feelings for Samuel. And you cannot give yourself completely to me, if you will not tell me the whole truth. We are at an impasse.”

Oath be damned. His mouth was already framing the truth, when he stopped himself. Just now she claimed to have feelings for the Duke. She had made her decision before speaking. What good would it do him to tell the truth, if she still did not want him? If he told her everything then she would not thank him for his honesty. It would destroy her feet in her father. She would see him as a sad wreck of a man, grasping at straws as she pushed him out of his life. And he would be throwing his promise aside to thorn as if his good name meant nothing to him.

He had thought he was a fiend who lusted for his sister. Instead, he had become the sort of the monster who had seduced his brothers betrothed, destroyed her family and promise anything to have his way. The truth would hurt the woman he loved. He had sworn he would never do that. And if he broke that promise then there was no point living after.

“You are right, Ambrose,” he said, said that the way forward now that he had found it was so very empty. “There is nothing to be done.”

“You must learn to call me Ambrosia,” she reminded him. “As everyone else does. We are grown up now, you know. There is no place left for childish nicknames.”

“Of course, Ambrosia.” Ambrose, his mind insisted. She would never be his Ambrosia to him, no matter what his lips might say.

“It is for the best, you know.” Now that the moment was here, she was not angry. Nor did she seem relieved to be rid of him. There was only sorrow, as though she were mourning a death. And he was still waiting for her to change her mind, like a prisoner hoping for reply. Had that have been how she had felt, waiting for him to come home and not understanding the reason for his rejection? She had called to him, over and over and he had refused her. But she had never given up trying to save him from himself. Until now. Really, what did he have to offer her? One hardly needed to be rescued from the fate that awaited her. In fact, he was rescuing her now, just by leaving.

“We will see each other, of course, from time to time,” she allowed, offering a sop. “It cannot be avoided. He is your only family, after all.”

You are my only family. And a few words of truth would destroy hers.

“You know we will not,” he said, as gently as possible. “I will go, if that is really what you wish. But do not tell yourself that there will be any contact between us. I will not return. I cannot bear to. And you must not write to me again. This time, I will really not read any of your letters.”

If his complete loss bothered her, then she did not say neither did she express it at all. “I have promised father,” she said insistently. “And the Duke of course. I cannot back on my word.”

But she could. They could run, right now, somewhere far away, where there would be no one to question them. ”They would understand.” In and understand, he imagined a whole life with her. And another. And another. And then he put them all aside as hopeless. Any choice required her cooperation. He had tried to win it and failed.

“It is you who must understand,” she said. “I promised myself to a good man. He needs me. You know it is true. Set me free.”

 His pain had no effect on her, now that she was resolved. She was as cold as he had ever wanted to be, when he had longed for her. Perhaps her affection was more never than a fleeting thing. But when they had leaned together, it had seemed real enough. “I know what is needed. I know what is required and I know what people expect.”

“But what do you want, Ambrose? What do you want?” For a moment, her eyes clouded and he was convinced that he could win her with reason. “Was all your education for naught?” He said,” You claimed an interest in medicine. There will be no place for it in the life that you are choosing.” And then he lost her again.

“Perhaps not. But, I will be able to accomplish much, as the Duchess of the Duke of Mayburry.”

“You want to do good?” He asked. “You might help me in my work. We would do good together.” He imagined her, working at his side. He had thought it foolish at first. But now he could not even imagine a better future.

She shook her head.” It was a wonderful dream, Patrick. But it was nothing more than that. It is was such a wonderful dream that I wanted it to be true desperately. But it is high time that I learn more than conventional ways of helping others.”

“Without having to bloody your hands that is,” he said bitterly. “ I will not bother you again, Lady Ambrosia. Not with my heart. Not with my work. And you can settle for your tepid marriage and your distant benevolence. I wish you well of it.”

“Next you will speak nonsense about difference in your ranks, or your not being good enough or rich enough for me.” Ambrose gave an exasperated sigh. ”In the end, the truth is this: the Duke is honorable. He is truthful with me. You are not.”

And that was rub. The one point he could not refute. The Duke was a saint and above reproach. For all his arguments about his love, Patrick had bedded her the moment they were alone. And he could never, ever tell her the truth about the past. He would not change and she would not forgive.

He had lost. He had been so sure that, now he was free to marry her, it would all fall easily into place. He had been so sure that, now he was free to marry her, it would all fall easily into place. He had forgotten to consider her feelings, her needs and her sense of justice, which was as strong as any man’s. So much about her was so strong. And it was all lost to him.

His skin went cold and the world had a distant, cotton wrapped quality, as his brain tried to deny what he was hearing, as his brain tried to deny what he was hearing. Shock, he thought. The prescription was brandy and lots of it. But that would be later, when he was away from her and trying to salvage his pride. “Very well, then,” he said.

‘You must do as you promised, to the Duke of Mayburry and to your father. Marry him. Be happy. Truly, that is what I wish for you. And that is a thing I cannot give.”