Page 34 of Forever Her Bachelor
The cat purred in her arms, peering around the room and stretching to be free. He stiffened as he recalled her fondness for cats. He had never minded the furry creatures; in fact, he had liked her cats Hydrogen, Ginger, and Cobalt when they were younger. Although visiting a cat and having one live in your house were surely two different things.
Pippa set both the cat and valise down before she removed her bonnet and turned to him. St. Clara shot up from leaning on the door. The slightly reddish bruise upon her cheek forced him into motion. The dark mark on her perfect skin sent rage jolting through St. Clara, and he suddenly wished he had pummeled Summerset more.
“What happened?” He rushed over to her, the blood in his veins cold as ice as he gently placed his hand on her cheek, causing her to flinch in pain. “I’ll fucking kill him.”
She did not react to the use of the vulgar language but took a small step back from him. He frowned, wondering about her behavior. St. Clara had hoped that her arriving on his doorstep in the early hours of the morning meant something for them.
“It’s unnecessary.” She held her head high, her pert little nose in the air. “Besides, I may have broken his nose.”
A smile overtook his face before laughter bubbled out of him. Good Lord, he wished he could’ve seen it.“Did you really break his nose?” he asked, trying to breathe through his laughter.
St. Clara’s joy threatened to consume him as he thought about what an eventful night Summerset was having between both himself and Pippa putting him in his place. It was the least he deserved for daring to lay hands on a woman.
“I heard a very loud crack, and there may have been some blood, but all this happened after I kneed him in the testicles.” Pippa began unbuttoning her pelisse before she sat down on the sofa with a slight grin on her lips. “Twice.”
St. Clara couldn’t help the loud burst of laughter that left him. He would’ve given up his title to see such a sight: Summerset kneed in the bollocks and punched in the nose. “Well done, Kitten!”
His chest filled with pride and pain. He could admit to himself that it was a good thing she could defend herself from such an attack, but the truth was she shouldn’t have had to. “When did you learn to defend yourself?” he asked. The girl he knew could have never hurt anyone, let alone protect herself.
“Miss Beatrice Lewis’s sister is quite the teacher.” She looked up at him, her hazel eyes guarded, a grave contrast from earlier that evening when they were filled with passion. “Remember,you met the Lewises a few months ago at dinner with the Karringtons?”
Taking a seat in the faded-green upholstered chair across from her, he nodded his confirmation. “Yes, I recall Edwards couldn’t take his eyes off Miss Lewis.” He remembered the evening perfectly as he could not take his eyes away from Pippa. “How extraordinary her sister knows how to defend herself.”
“Jessie Lewis has had a colorful upbringing in St. Giles. I believe her more deadly than any man.” Pippa smoothed out her skirts, a nervous habit of hers that he remembered from their youth.
Clearing his throat, St. Clara stood again, feeling like a stranger in his own parlor. “I shall wake Jeffery. We will leave right away?—”
“I have conditions.” Her voice carried over the darkness, unwavering.
St. Clara glided over to her, kneeling to take her hands in his. “Anything, Kitten,” he whispered, wanting to convey how much her trusting in him meant.
He would promise her the world if he could. Completeness consumed him. He hadn’t felt such a way since he left for the Continent nearly nine years earlier.
When Pippa removed her hand from his, loneliness seeped through his bones. It carried him to a long-ago time, reminding him of the lonely boy who had sneaked out of the house in search of the perfect rock.
A storm of green, gray, and brown captured him mind, body, and soul. He couldn’t move, wouldn’t dare look away even as the intense gaze threatened to shatter him into a million pieces.
St. Clara held his breath, waiting, anticipating her words, praying that whatever she said didn’t shatter his hopes.
“Once we are married”—she paused, swallowing, the delicate skin of her long neck catching his attention—“I wish to live separately.”
Splintered in two, he stood, took several steps back, and tried to find his voice but could not, no matter how hard he tried.
Bloody hell.
The man who once was Pippa’s most loyal companion unraveled before her eyes. Her request was simple, a matter of self-preservation. The last time she’d trusted him, she’d nearly lost a piece of herself, but this time was different. She knew to guard her emotions and her heart from him. The first time he’d failed her was a devastating blow. He had been her friend, her constant companion, the only other person she’d allowed herself to become close to other than her aunt.
Her only comfort was he was no longer the boy that wanted nothing more than to please his father. He was his own man, a duke in his own right, a person known throughout society as heartless, a philanderer, nothing like the boy she’d once known … nothing like her Chauncey.
Pippa stood, waiting for him to recover from the initial shock of her statement. Her legs had shaken like tree branches hit by a fierce storm the moment she entered the parlor. She remembered reading about tornados with her mother and father, amazed that wind and precipitation could move practically anything if it were strong enough. The tornado in her life was none other than the Duke of St. Clara.
She couldn’t remember a time when it was not that way between them. He would rush in one way or another to save or destroy her. The first time was when he saved her sweet little kittens, changing her life forever. Next was when he proposed marriage to bind them together always. The last was when he utterly and completely wrecked her life, causing her fragile heart to splinter into pieces. It didn’t matter they were not a love match. They were much more to her: the best of friends. So much so that he was a part of her and she him until that fateful day in the exact parlor she now found herself in.
She steeled her nerves, ignoring the imposing portrait of the late duke that stood sentry over the large white fireplace decorated with intricate carvings of circles, ovals, and trees. The painting loomed over her in strokes of black and brown, making the man even more terrifying in portrait than he had been when he was alive.
Returning to Bennett House reminded Pippa of the fateful night that had changed her life forever. She couldn’t remove the memory of the former duke’s cold and calculating gaze boring into her like she was unworthy. His judgment and disdain had been clear on his hard countenance.
She had been wary of the duke since he’d offered her five thousand pounds to call off her engagement to his son and heir, but she had refused. Who was he to stand in the way of her and Chauncey’s happiness? Pippa had returned, months after Chauncey had left for the Continent. Her uncle had summoned her to Bennett House insisting there was news …