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He must have proposed out of pity, that and his blasted sense of responsibility Why else would he shackle himself to a tomboyish freak who hadn't even known the difference between a day dress and an evening gown?

He had said he loved her She had believed him What an utter fool she was Unless

Henry choked on a sob

Maybe he did love her Maybe she hadn't h to satisfy him Maybe he needed more than she could ever be

Or maybe he had simply lied She didn't knohich she preferred to believe

The astounding part was that she didn't hate him He had done too much for her, showed her too much kindness for her ever to hate him She didn't think he had slept with Christine out of any sense of malice toward her And she didn't think he'd done it for some perverse thrill

No, he'd probably slept with her just because he'd thought it his right He was a s like that

It wouldn't have hurt so ht have been able to go through with the e

But hoas she to break it off? All of London was abuzz about their engageht of eht of the gossip for herself She'd head back to the country--although not to Stannage Park, she thought painfully He probably wouldn't allow her to return But she could go somewhere where the ton couldn't reach her

He, however, couldn't His life was here in London

"Oh, God!" she burst out "Why can't you just hurt hihing about this

He was going to have to be the one to call off the engage jilted But how to make him do it? How?

She laid on her bed for over an hour, her eyes focusing on a tiny crack in the ceiling What could she do to ement? None of her schemes seemed plausible, untilYes, that was it That was exactly it

With a heavy heart she walked over to her desk and pulled open the drawer Caroline had thoughtfully stocked riting paper, ink, and a quill Out of nowhere she reinary friend she'd had as a child Rosalind That name would do as well as any

Blydon House London 2 May 1817