A Bet On Hearts [Regency England Romcom]

Chapter 24: No Soul Left Undone

November 1811

As Lady Langdon found herself entranced by the intimate company of Lord McIntyre, exploring their mutual desires, there remained certain desires and yearnings simmering beneath a tightly sealed surface, like a cauldron waiting to be stirred. It would require a considerable effort to raise such a weighty lid, unleashing a flame of passion destined to bind two souls for eternity.

However, reality fell short of the ideal.

Or did it?

Inevitably, Royston crossed paths with Victor, and the gentlemen chose to stroll amidst the estate's grounds. Their cheeks were brushed by the crisp bite of the chilly wind, a harbinger of the impending winter season.

"I must extend my sincerest apologies for my conduct during the game of cards last evening, Lord Westhaven," Roy began, his tone contrite as he addressed the gentleman before him. "I am fully cognizant that my remarks may have been deemed uncouth and ungentlemanly. However, I assure you they were delivered with the sole intention of protecting my kin from potential heartbreak."

Roy paused momentarily, his gaze piercing as he locked eyes with Westhaven. "I trust there is no need for further subtlety concerning Miss Haswell's regard for you, sir."

There was a faint smirk playing upon Victor's countenance, and a glimmer of amusement danced in his eyes, as though the slight indiscretion of his acquaintance was a matter long forgiven. "Frankly, my dear fellow, you're not proving to be the most subtle of matchmakers," he remarked in a teasing tone, "though I must confess, at first, I was intrigued at the prospect of becoming better acquainted with Miss Haswell. Alas, it seems our compatibility extends no further than mere acquaintanceship. There's no need for forgiveness, Lord Sinclair, if anything, one ought to commend your chivalrous intentions. I could certainly learn a thing or two from your noble nature. Rest assured, I have no intention of causing offence or harm to your kin, by any means or purpose."

Victor took a measured breath, his exhale forming a delicate mist in the chill air. "If I may speak plainly, the subject of my possible regard is now but a fleeting thought," he stated with a calm demeanour, "yet your attentiveness towards Miss Haswell is unmistakable in every glance, every utterance, every gesture, sir."

Roy chuckled softly, his gaze now fixed on the expansive field before them. The sky above was laden with heavy clouds, portending the imminent arrival of the season's first snowfall. "Your observations are indeed forthright, Lord Westhaven. However, to presume upon Miss Haswell's sentiments towards my person may be to see patterns where none truly exist."

"No gentleman who defends a lady with such gallantry, nor any lady who dares to assert herself as boldly as Miss Haswell, could harbour affections for anyone but each other," Victor retorted with a knowing smile. "Yet you oppose such an idea as if you were a deuce opposing his salvation."

Roy chuckled at Victor's remark, but the sudden remembrance of the secret prickled him anew. The memory weighed heavily on his conscience, dampening his merriment in an instant.

The blasted secret.

As long as that matter remained concealed from Miss Haswell, as long as it lingered like a perpetual thorn in his heart, Roy couldn't entertain the thought of courting nor embracing her in any capacity. It would be unjust, condemning him to a lifetime of uncertainty about whether she would ever choose him, should the secret be revealed to her.

Meanwhile, the lady in question found herself subjected to the persistent inquiries of her dear friend, who seemed determined to pry into her feelings regarding Roy at every opportunity.

"Indeed, if Lord Langdon's interest and attentions toward you, dear Mina, do not rival the vastness of the oceans, I shall retire to a nunnery," Eleanor declared with the unwavering conviction of an ancient oak tree.