Sloan made no reply. He couldn’t accept her accolades, or thank Heather for her help, even knowing she was a chief reason for his victory. He should have been elated by his success. He should have cared about the election that he’d spent so much time and energy campaigning to win. He should have felt something other than the cool, dead feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“You’re leaving?” he asked, forcing the words past the tightness in his throat.

She nodded. “Yes. In a short while. Evan is coming for me in his carriage.”

Sloan felt his hand curl involuntarily into a fist, but he forced himself to relax. Her next comment made it clench again.

“My courses came this week.”

A look passed between them, tangled with dark, churning emotions. She was not carrying his child.

“Good,” he said abruptly, before turning on his heel and walking away.

She waited to say good-bye to Janna until the very last moment. When Evan Randolf’s carriage arrived, he sent his coachman to the front door to fetch Heather’s trunk and bags and then waited patiently for her to join him.

In the front hall, Heather smoothed on her gloves and adjusted her bonnet, postponing her leavetaking as long as possible. Finally, though, there was no more reason for delay.

Reluctantly she went to the kitchen, where Sloan had just finished feeding his daughter.

She paused in the doorway, watching the two of them together, his tawny head bent toward his daughter’s raven one. She wondered if they would miss her.

“I’ve come to say good-bye,” she murmured past the ache in her throat.

Sloan didn’t reply except to nod his head. Taking that as permission, Heather moved across the kitchen. Her teeth tugging at her trembling lower lip, she lifted the tiny girl in her arms and held her tightly.

“I shall miss you dreadfully, sweetheart.” She was aware of Sloan’s narrowed gaze on her. “You’ll take good care of her, won’t you?” she asked in a voice husky with tears.

“Have I ever not?”

Even his lightly spoken words were like a knife stabbing her.

Her gaze found his, her eyes filled with love and hopelessness. She wanted him to ask her to stay, but all the crying in the world wouldn’t change his feelings for her.

Sloan felt her despair echo in his veins and looked away from her unbearably sad eyes. He wanted to kiss those tears away, wanted to beg her to stay, but he crushed the urge. Lies were his only protection now. He didn’t want her thinking he needed her.

“So you’re choosing Randolf after all,” he said in a low voice.

She shut her eyes briefly. “No… I’m not choosing him. My leaving has nothing to do with him.”

“It’s pretty clear you prefer his fortune to the life I can offer you.”