While she had instinctively denied it to Lisa, Suzette would acknowledge to herself that her feelings for Daniel had run very deep indeed. She had craved him like the very air she breathed, and still did. She’d wanted to touch every part of him, hear every moment of his life before their meeting and share every future moment there was. She’d sprung from her bed each morning since meeting him, eager to start the day and find him, not wanting to miss a moment with him. And he had seemed just as eager to spend time with her, which was why she was so crushed now to learn that he hadn’t ever intended to marry her, had been leading her to believe he would just to “get to know her better.”

Perhaps it had all been some plot to debauch her, Suzette thought. It wasn’t a pleasant possibility to consider. It meant she’d completely misjudged the man and hadn’t known him at all.

Avoiding even looking at the stables, the scene of her folly, Suzette walked around the inn and found a small path into the woods as she considered that perhaps Daniel was one of those bounders who went about deflowering unwary young debutantes naïve enough to—

Suzette shook her head. No. She couldn’t believe that. Surely, she couldn’t have loved such a bounder as that? In the end, she supposed it didn’t matter. That was what had happened. She’d lain with him, he was refusing to marry her because of it, and she now had to face the consequences alone. Virginity was expected from a bride and she would never lie to a man and claim to still possess hers. And yet she had to marry, and probably sooner was better than later since there may be even more consequences to that morning’s events in the stable.

Swallowing, Suzette placed a hand over her stomach, wondering if his seed had taken root. Was she carrying his child? Part of her hoped dearly that she was, that she would keep and have a reminder of their time together for the rest of their days in the guise of a Daniel Junior. Another part of her, though, was horrified at the thought, knowing that looking on that child would mean fresh pain every day as well.

Sighing, Suzette paused to lean against a tree and closed her eyes, wishing things had been different. Wishing he’d love her. Wishing she’d never met him. She could have happily gone an entire lifetime without knowing this pain . . . even if it meant forgoing the happy moments and pleasure that had preceded it.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”