Page 19 of Buon Natale, My Wicked Rogue (Wicked Widows’ League #18)
His eyes widened. His expression froze. Then she knew. Susan had told her the truth.
“What did Mrs. Kingston have to say?” he asked unnecessarily.
Was he going to make her repeat the whole matter?
She drew her shoulders square and lifted her chin. “I think you know, my lord.”
He pressed his hand over his mouth momentarily, gripping his chin.
A gesture of defense, a ploy to gain time.
She could forgive him for that weakness.
This was a serious matter. His shoulders sagged; he dropped his hand and took a deep breath.
“I’d rather hear the story as she told it to you and as you understand it. ”
“Very well, my lord.”
“Please stop calling me that and in that frosty tone. Now tell me how she related the events.”
She told him in clipped words, as fast as she could get the words out, for each one tasted acrid on her tongue. Then she finished with a few choice thoughts, “Just who were those men you set to attack the two of us? Criminals from Highgate that you paid?”
Outrage lit his eyes. “Now that’s just vicious. How could you think so little of me?”
“I find that I do not know you, my lord. How can I judge anything about you with any confidence now? I trusted you, and you broke my trust.” She sniffled and swallowed against rising tears. “And broke my heart.”
He flinched. “I was working for the Home Office, as Mrs. Kingston said. I didn’t know anything about you except that you were a wealthy American widow, a prominent businesswoman suspected of being an industrial spy.”
“You had no problem changing course and seducing me.”
He gaped at her. “Let’s not go changing history. You were willing.”
“I didn’t know the truth. I thought you were just some feckless rake.”
He gaped again. “A feckless rake?”
“That is how you portrayed yourself. You were worried about my wardrobe and my hairstyle. You wanted me to be a pretty present you could unwrap for Christmas.”
He grimaced. “I see your point. And how do you see me now?”
“I see that you are, in truth, a shrewd, deceptive rogue who cared nothing for lying to me and destroying my trust and crushing my heart.”
“That’s not how it was. It’s true that my first intention was to investigate the truth about you and your reasons for being in England. And I used the methods available to me.”
“The ‘methods’ available to you? Ah, yes, those were my attraction to you, my liking, and my trust in you. These were gifts that I gave to you because I thought you were worthy. I thought you were worthy of my love. Worthy of being my husband and father to my children.”
He opened his mouth but said nothing, apparently unable to come up with any defense.
“I fell in love with you,” he said finally. “I love you more than anything or anyone else in the world. I love you more than my own life.”
She would be lying to herself to say his declaration had no effect upon her. She placed her hand on her forehead. “Once I admitted the truth about my visit and my father, why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you disclose everything and give us an honest start?”
“You waited to tell me the truth about your father.”
“I did that to protect myself in a foreign land where I was unsure that I could trust anyone. And in the end, I couldn’t trust you.” She shook her head. “Evan─”
“At least we are back to Evan now,” he said wryly.
“Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?”
“Don’t make light of this. Don’t make light of us. Don’t mock my feelings.” She inhaled deeply, trying to regain her bearings. “Jacob always made sport of my feelings. I was young then. I didn’t know how to react. I’ll never accept it from you or anyone else ever again.”
He stared at her gravely. “I am sorry, Angela. It was a thoughtless gesture to lighten the mood. But you are correct. This matter cannot be minimized. I should have told you all when I knew you were no spy.”
Her blood cooled a degree or two at his apology. “Maybe a part of this is knowing that you were bedding me, wringing all those personal confidences out of me about my life, and all the while, you believed that I might be hanged for treason.”
“No, Angela. By that time, I was wholly besotted with you. I had no intention other than to protect you. I was prepared to lie for you. I was prepared to die for you. I thought our best chance might be to run away to America. But you know, they stopped Lowell in Nova Scotia.” She pressed her hand to her mouth. What should she do? They were married.
Married.
And she loved him.
She jerked her head up to face him again. “I need some time and space to think about all of this.”
“Of course,” he said. “I’ll go to my townhouse in Mayfair, and you can stay here with Lady Wyndam.” She nodded.
“While I am there, I will, as I have intended to for some time now, open an expense account for you.” He turned to pick up his coat and withdrew his wallet from the breast pocket.
Then he walked to the table beside their bed and laid a stack of bills on it.
“This should cover your expenses in the meantime.”
“Evan, I don’t need your money. I have funds for myself. I can pay my way, as I have done since my father-in-law died.” And if things did not turn out between them, she could buy her own estate and live here in England.
“No matter what happens, you will be my wife until I die. I will provide it for you. You can save your money for a time when I am not there for you.”
He left unspoken that if they had no male children to carry the title, she would be on her own, subject to the whims of whoever inherited his father’s title—some cousin who was currently serving in the navy, from what he’d said.
But the talk of his death put a lump in her throat. She suspected that they would go on and that there just might be a male issue from their union. Oh, should she forgive him?
No, she couldn’t just yet.
Her heart felt so twisted in knots that she could barely breathe. And she wondered how long that organ would bear the bruising of this day.
He had pulled his valise out and was packing his things. Thank goodness he was the one leaving; he could pack simply. She had four trunks, the most luggage she’d ever traveled with. But he had told her a countess couldn’t get by with less.
Soon, he was ready to go, and the lump in her throat grew to gargantuan proportions. Yet, she needed this time apart. And then, he must realize the cost of disrespecting her. The gravity of this situation called for a separation, if only to establish the proper respect between them.
Oh, her head was spinning with all of this.
Perhaps she would get drunk on wine this evening and sleep into the day tomorrow. Was that what ladies did in secret when their true love disappointed them? Well, it seemed like a plan.
He called for the carriage, and then they sat down and shared a last drink. He had brandy, and she had wine. After some time, he glanced at his watch. “I wonder what is taking them so long?”
“Maybe they are still feeling the effects of yesterday's celebration.”
He glanced at her with exaggerated wide eyes. “I certainly hope the driver is clearheaded.” He donned his waistcoat and coat, sat in the wing chair, and pulled on his boots. Then he stood and turned back to her.
“Walk me to the carriage,” he said. “So that I know we are still friends, at least?” He offered her a smile, but his eyes were serious.
She tried to return his smile; however, her mouth wouldn’t conform to her wishes. So, she simply nodded and accepted his offered arm.
As a nobleman, he likely wouldn’t want the servants to be privy to their intimate battles. However, everyone would know something was amiss when the bridegroom left the bride, yes?
They would be friends, no matter what happened, so she allowed him to lead her down the staircase and to the door and outside to the waiting carriage.
Only the carriage wasn’t there. And the servants were nowhere to be seen either.
He turned to her, his dark brows drawn together. Damn, did he have to be so handsome? Did his eyes have to be so clear green? She drank in his image with an eerie sense of committing his features to memory.
How morbid.
“It is odd, is it not?” he said, his scowl deepening as he glanced about.
A rustling in the bushes made him turn. She followed his attention. There it was.
A shadowy form in the bushes. Her heart leaped into her throat, and she placed her hand on her collarbone.
Darts of fear surged through her body to her fingers and toes, and even her lips felt tingly and numb.
Gooseflesh crept icily up her neck and over her scalp, and she turned to run back to the entrance to the house.
“Angela!” Evan shouted even as she perceived him lunging towards her and flinging himself between her and the shadowy lurker in the bushes. She tripped on a stone, and intense dizziness prevented her from gaining her bearings. She fell and hit her head.
Boom!
She jerked up dizzily and turned to see Evan fall to his knees, holding his arm. Then everything went black.