By the time Sam stirred the next morning, Ivy was already fully dressed and sitting on the chaise longue in front of the fire. She had made sure to stoke it and add some more coal as soon as she woke up, as the room had already started cooling down when the fire died. Turning her head, she watched as Sam fastened the leather harness of his prosthetic on his thigh and got dressed. It was obvious by the grim set of his lips and the quick glances in her direction that he was uneasy.

Did he regret last night? She was certain he did. He wouldn't be Sam if he didn't. One did not suddenly change one's opinion on something like this, and shouldn't be punished for a moment of weakness. Returning to stare at the crackling flames of the fire, she waited for him to finish dressing. Finally, he came around the chaise longue to stand before her. He awkwardly dragged a hand through his hair, still mussed from sleep.

"I..." He cleared his throat while staring down at his shoes. "I will marry you, of course. I know I don't have much to offer and you deserve so much more, but I will do what is right."

She'd expected it. He was an honourable man. But she hadn't expected how much she'd longed to hear him say he would marry her. It made what she had to do all the harder, but she was determined.

"No."

Her simple answer finally made him lift his gaze to stare at her. From the confused look on his face, she might as well have recited a poem in Gaelic.

"No?"

Trying to appear calm and collected despite her pulse fluttering in her throat, she placed her hands demurely in her lap and straightened her spine. "You heard me. No, thank you."

He stared at her as if she'd grown two heads. Maybe women didn't usually decline offers of marriage after spending a night with a man.

"Have you read Pride and Prejudice?" she asked, obviously confusing him further as a line appeared between his brows.

"Yes?"

"There is a moment when Mr Darcy proposes to Miss Bennet for the first time, and as he does he criticises her lesser circumstances and her family. Your proposal is like that but in reverse. It is not very appealing."

"You're comparing me to a book character?"

"Yes, and not favourably."

"Ivy," he said slowly, as if she wasn't understanding him. "Last night... You're ruined. I must marry you."

"No. It is not required. You may, however, take me back to the main house. I looked outside and the storm is all but gone," she said, keeping her voice light and unconcerned. "If Winterbourne has kept my whereabouts secret, my reputation will be fine. I will not have you marry me out of some misguided sense of honour."

He glanced at the window where the morning sun was filtering in past the open curtains. The line between his brows deepened as he tried to make sense of what she was saying.

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "It's the right thing to do."

"That's the thing." She stood and faced him. "I don't want you only because you felt it was what you had to do. We had a lapse in judgement. It doesn't change how you feel about me. About our situation. If you married me like this, you would forever be resentful for all the reasons you've been giving me. It would sour our marriage before it's even begun."

"But—"

"You keep saying you don't want to be the reason I don't make an advantageous match," she interrupted. "Have you changed your stance on this?"

He shifted uneasily. "No, but things are different after last night."

"Are they?" Crossing her arms over her chest as if it would shield her from the heartbreak, she met his gaze squarely. "As long as I am not with child, no one needs to know what happened here. We can both return to our lives as if nothing happened. You have no obligation to me."

He opened his mouth to argue, then paused before closing it again. His hands fisted at his sides and she knew she had won. It was a bitter victory. She wanted nothing more than for him to fight for her. To profess his eternal love, but he was too busy worrying about her social standing.

"I just want you to have the life I never could," he finally said quietly, his voice more dejected than she'd expected. "It's an awful feeling standing on the fringes of high society but never being able to participate. Always wondering what might have been. As a child, I would see the parties my father held at his estate, but as the bastard, I was never invited. Equally, I was rarely invited to anything with the townspeople. It's like my father's indiscretion has left a stain on my soul."

Her heart ached for the boy he had once been, stuck between two worlds and never quite part of either.

"I would never want that for you," he continued. "You've grown up a gentleman's daughter. The ton has accepted you, loving the drama surrounding your background, and that's amazing. I could never ask you to give that up. I don't even rent a home. After leaving the military, I lived in Lord Winter's Albany set, and now I share lodgings above the agency with a few other agents. You deserve so much more."

"What would you have done if I had accepted your proposal?"

"I would have figured something out." He dragged a hand through his hair again. "I have some savings. When I return to London, I should probably look into my options."

"Don't strain yourself on my behalf." His lack of effort was grating on her and made her tone shorter than intended. "Like I said, you are not required to marry me."

He flinched as if she'd slapped him, then nodded. "Understood. But if there is a child, I will marry you. I refuse to father a bastard."

"So romantic." There was no hiding the acrid sarcasm in her tone, and she embraced her anger. It was much easier than feeling hurt. "Please return me to Winterbourne Hall. I am done with this conversation."

There was a moment's charged silence as Sam looked as if he wanted to say something further, but then he sketched a stiff bow. "As you wish."

By the time they reached Winterbourne Hall, they had both descended into their misery, and neither had uttered a word more than absolutely necessary during the entire trip. Sam led her in through the servant's entrance and with her face shrouded by the hood on her cloak, she made it to her room before the tears came.

Closing the door behind her, she vowed not to leave the room for the remainder of the day, fully playing into the narrative that she was poorly. Because she was poorly. A broken heart surely counted as an ailment? As much as it hurt, she knew she'd made the right choice. Sam would never have been happy if he married her. He would have succumbed to guilt about destroying the future he thought she deserved.

He seemed unable or unwilling to understand that all she wanted was him. It stung that he wasn't willing to fight for her. While she didn't doubt he had feelings for her, cared for her even, he had never mentioned love. Maybe he didn't feel the same way she did.

There was a knock on the door, and for a moment her hope flared. A wild wish that it was Sam who had realised his foolishness and had come to claim her. She wrenched the door open, and her face fell when her eyes met Olivia's grey gaze. Her friend took one look at her and pushed into the room, closing the door behind her.

"Goodness," she mumbled. "Ivy, what happened?"

The simple question was enough for Ivy to start crying in earnest, and her friend quickly embraced her. Leading her over to the bed to sit down, Olivia mumbled, "Tell me everything. What do you need? We'll do whatever you want."

Sam stared unseeingly at the rows of books in the library. After dropping Ivy off with the servants, he had wandered aimlessly until reaching the library, and now he just stood there staring at nothing. What had just happened?

How had he gone from the bliss of finally making love to Ivy, to having her reject his proposal and act as if she wanted nothing more than to be away from him, in a matter of hours? It was surreal.

"Hemsworth?"

He nearly jumped, having not heard anyone else enter. How much time had passed? Turning around, he found his employer, Lord Gabriel Winter standing a few feet away.

"Are you all right?" Winter came up and took a book from Sam's hands. Turning it around, he raised a questioning eyebrow. "I didn't realise you were interested in botany."

Glancing down, Sam noted that the book was titled 'Medical Botany'. He didn't even remember picking it off the shelf.

"I'm not."

"Well, then I would suggest finding something else to read." Winter returned the book to its original position but was unable to hide an amused smile. When Sam didn't react, the smile faded and his expression turned to concern. "Is something the matter?"

Sam scowled at the rows of books. "I guess it depends on how you look at it. If I just ruined every chance I had at happiness? Then yes."

"Right." Winter cleared his throat. "I assume this has something to do with the young lady that didn't go missing last night? And you weren't out looking for. The one who's definitely been cooped up in her room after returning with her friend and Mr Montgomery?"

A wry smile touched Sam's lips. "I take it you've spoken to Winterbourne?"

Winter gave a terse nod. "Yes, but you know Winterbourne. It's not as if I was given a lot of information."

"You seem to know enough."

"I've learned to read between the lines." Winter hesitated for a moment before asking, "So want to tell me what's got you standing here pulling random books off the shelves?"

"Not particularly."

Winter chuckled. "Very well. You don't need to tell me. I came in here to find my wife a book not to read." When Sam stared at him, he laughed again. "It's a long story. Maybe another time."

"If she won't read it, you can probably just bring her the botany book."

"True. But I may want to actually read it after."

Silence resumed as Winter perused the books on the shelves. As time stretched out, unease slowly rose in Sam until he shifted awkwardly on his feet. Pain shot through him from having stood still for so long, and with a wince, he found a chair and sank down in it. Burying his face in his hands, he groaned inwardly. How had he allowed things to go this far? The memory of Ivy's pliable body in his arms was bittersweet, knowing he would never experience it again.

He swallowed. No more Ivy? He'd done the right thing, hadn't he? No, the right thing would have been to marry her no matter what. She'd been correct that he worried about taking her options from her, but it wasn't his bitterness he worried about - it was hers. One day she might realise what she'd given up. For him. And he certainly didn't deserve someone like her. She was better off without him.

His hands flexed on his thighs as a wave of panic crashed over him. Maybe he didn't deserve her, but how could he ever think he could live his life without her?

"I've made a terrible mistake."

"What's that?" Winter looked up from the book he was rifling through.

"I shouldn't have let her go. I should have fought for her."

"Probably."

Sam frowned. "Do you even know what I'm talking about?"

"Not exactly, but if you let the woman you love leave without stopping her, then it does sound like you made a mistake."

"It's not that simple. She deserves more than I can offer."

"She might not want more than you offer. Shouldn't it be her choice?"

It wasn't the first time someone suggested this, and Sam was embarrassed to admit he hadn't truly understood what they meant until now. Ivy knew what she wanted. She was strong and could survive anything. Had the recent events in her life not proven that beyond anything? If she would have him, he would be a fool to let her go.

"I'm such an idiot," he muttered, forcing himself to his feet despite his aching body.

Winter smiled wryly. "We all are when we fall in love. And sometimes we try to do what we think is the right thing, but really it's the wrong thing." He shrugged. "My wife is great at telling me when I'm wrong."

Having met Winter's wife, Sam wasn't surprised. Nicola Winter did not keep her opinions to herself.

"If you'll excuse me," he said with a light bow. "I have a young lady to apologise to."

"Best of luck."

A short while later, Sam took a deep breath before knocking on the door to the room he'd been told was Ivy's. There was noise from indoors, and he tried to remember what he wanted to say as he waited for the door to open. When a maid appeared in the doorway he tried to hide his disappointment. The young woman gave him a questioning look.

"Is... Is Miss Edwards available?" he asked, knowing full well that seeking her out in her bedchamber was highly improper, but he just wanted to speak with her.

"No, sir, she left a little while ago."

"Oh, do you know where she went?"

"Home, sir."

His stomach dropped. "Home?"

The young maid nodded. "Yes, sir. She wasn't feeling well and Lady Newton and Miss Newton decided to take her home."

"Right. Thank you."

She'd gone home? It only made him feel worse to know that Ivy had been so desperate to get away from him that she'd decided to leave. The storm had cleared up but the roads still had snow on them. Not enough to stop all travel, but enough that most would simply choose to remain indoors. But Ivy would rather brave the snowy roads than remain in the same house as he. Damn.

~~~~~~