Page 53 of His Revelation
“She needed to be told,” Bonnie blurted. When both of them glanced at her, she shrugged. “Everything you said was true, Lord Blabloblal. I have said it before: Mother’s manipulations and her way of spoiling and rewarding Tiffany for something she cannot control is what ultimately muddled up her brain and made her— You know what? I will just sit over there in thatcorner with my mouth shut,” she finished weakly, as they both continued to stare at her.
“Actually, Bonnie,” Tiffany began in a small voice, “I think it might be best if Lord Blabloblal said whatever he has to say to me…in private.”
“Please call me Lysander.” There was a yearning in his eyes when Tiffany met them, but he quickly cleared his throat and glanced at Bonnie to include her. “Ye too. We are to be family.”
“Are we?” Bonnie lifted a brow. “Are you?” she asked Tiffany.
Is that what Lysander had meant?
“Did you come to propose marriage then?” Her voice was dull, empty, unsure how she should feel about this.
There’d been a time, only a month ago, when marriage to Lysander Oliphant, Viscount Blabloblal, was all she’d ever wanted. She’d been so certain she was in love with the man and had dreamed of becoming his viscountess.
But now she realized she’d been in love with…well, with the idea of becoming a viscountess, not Lysander himself.
It had taken an adventure with a different man—one who’d allowed her to see her true self—to show her the truth. She could love a man, regardless of what he looked like or what his title was. She could love a man forhimself.
As she loved her Lunzie. As she loved Lysander.
Bonnie made a noise which might’ve been a chuckle, might’ve been a cough. When Tiffany glanced at her, she winked and offered them both a little curtsey.
“Propriety demands I offer tea again, so perhaps I will run along to the kitchens and ask for a tray. That should leave you two some time alone.”
“Do notrun,” Tiffany told her. “Walk.”
“Walkslowly,” Lysander added.
Bonnie was grinning when she slipped from the door, and as soon as she did, Lysander let out another great sigh and scrubbed his hand over his face.
Before Tiffany could comment on being left alone with him, he spoke instead. “I should’ve come earlier, Tiffany, but I kenned if I didnae prove to ye how sorry I was, ye’d never believe me.”
She pushed herself to her feet on wobbly knees, already shaking her head. “I am the one who owes you an apology. I know what you heard me say right here in this room. I was speaking to Bonnie, out in the corridor, and although I did not intend my words to be heard by anyone else, you did, and I am so sorry.”
He’d looked as if he’d intended to interrupt, but at her words, he’d slowly closed his mouth. Now, he cocked his head. “Ye are sorry I overheard the things ye said about Lyon?”
“No, I am sorry I said them.” Her hands gripped one another in front of her, but she didn’t look away. If she didn’t say this now, she might never have the nerve again. “Your brother has been through much and deserves my understanding, not my scorn. I insulted his character as well as his appearance, which was shallow of me. His disposition is likely a result of his loss, not his choices.” She blew out a breath. “I am very aware of how cruel it is to be judged by a metric one has no control over, like appearances.”
To her surprise, he crossed the room to stand in front of her. Once there—close enough to touch, if he gave her any indication he wanted that—he took a deep breath. She did her best not to drop her eyes to watch his chest expand, but it was difficult with him being such a well-built man.
“Thank ye for yer apology, love, but it’s been recently pointed out to me, the things which ye said, have been said before.”
“That does not make it right to say them.”
He shrugged. “Perhaps. But my brotherisscarred and, well, no’brutalexactly, but he spends too much of his day wearing too little clothing, engaged in activities designed to make himself sweat and other men bleed. And hedoesprefer grunting to talking.”
Oh.
“You make him sound quite…”
“Barbaric?” Lysander’s lips twitched. “Heisthe Beast of the Oliphants.”
Why was he ruining a perfectly good apology? She flushed and shook her head. “That does not excuse my words. I am sorry, Lysander—I mean,milord.”
It wasn’t until he reached out to cover her hands in his that she realized she was gripping her fingers together tightly enough to cause pain.
“Tiffany,” he coaxed in a whisper, as he gently untangled her fingers from one another and lifted her hands in his. “Lysander please.”
Unable to quell the shiver of need which shot up her arm at his touch, she numbly nodded. “Lysander.”
