Ever since he'd set eyes on Elizabeth Cameron he'd been blind-no, he corrected himself with furious self-disgust, in England he'd recognized instinctively what she was-gentle and proud, brave and innocent and…rare. He'd known damned well she wasn't a promiscuous little flirt, yet he'd later convinced himself she was, and then he'd treated her like one here-and she had endured it the entire time she'd been here! She had let him say those things to her and then tried to excuse his behavior by blaming herself for behaving like "a shameless wanton" in England!
Bile rose up in his throat, suffocating him, and he closed his eyes. She was so damned sweet, and so forgiving, that she even did that for him.
Duncan hadn't moved; in taut silence he watched his nephew standing at the window, his eyes clenched shut, his stance like that of a man who was being stretched on the rack.
Finally Ian spoke, and his voice was rough with emotion, as if the words were being gouged out of him: "Did the woman say that, or was that your own opinion?"
"About what?"
Drawing a ragged breath, he asked, "Did she tell you that Elizabeth was in love with me two years ago, or was that your opinion?"
The answer to that obviously meant so much to Ian that Duncan almost smiled. At the moment, however, the vicar was more concerned with the two things he wanted above all else: He wanted Ian to wed Elizabeth and rectify the damage he'd done to her, and he wanted Ian to reconcile with his grandfather. In order to do the former, Ian would have to do the latter, for Elizabeth's uncle was evidently determined that her husband should have a title if possible. So badly did Duncan want those two things to happen that he almost lied to help the cause, but the precepts of his conscience forbade it. "It was Miss Throckmorton-Jones's opinion when she was under the influence of laudanum. It is also opinion, based on everything I saw in Elizabeth's character and behavior to you."
He waited through another long moment of awful suspense, knowing exactly where Ian's thoughts would have to turn next, and then he plunged in, ready to press home his advantage with hard, systematic logic. "You have no choice except to rescue her from that repugnant marriage.
Bile rose up in his throat, suffocating him, and he closed his eyes. She was so damned sweet, and so forgiving, that she even did that for him.
Duncan hadn't moved; in taut silence he watched his nephew standing at the window, his eyes clenched shut, his stance like that of a man who was being stretched on the rack.
Finally Ian spoke, and his voice was rough with emotion, as if the words were being gouged out of him: "Did the woman say that, or was that your own opinion?"
"About what?"
Drawing a ragged breath, he asked, "Did she tell you that Elizabeth was in love with me two years ago, or was that your opinion?"
The answer to that obviously meant so much to Ian that Duncan almost smiled. At the moment, however, the vicar was more concerned with the two things he wanted above all else: He wanted Ian to wed Elizabeth and rectify the damage he'd done to her, and he wanted Ian to reconcile with his grandfather. In order to do the former, Ian would have to do the latter, for Elizabeth's uncle was evidently determined that her husband should have a title if possible. So badly did Duncan want those two things to happen that he almost lied to help the cause, but the precepts of his conscience forbade it. "It was Miss Throckmorton-Jones's opinion when she was under the influence of laudanum. It is also opinion, based on everything I saw in Elizabeth's character and behavior to you."
He waited through another long moment of awful suspense, knowing exactly where Ian's thoughts would have to turn next, and then he plunged in, ready to press home his advantage with hard, systematic logic. "You have no choice except to rescue her from that repugnant marriage.
( Judith McNaught )
[ Almost Heaven ]
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