Page 28

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Franny

The adjoining bedchamber door slammed behind Franny, and she jumped. She had no idea what this conversation was going to bring, but she was determined to finally have a full discussion with her husband. They were going to talk. She would make it so.

She spun around and faced Rupert. He stood in front of the door separating their rooms, chest rising and falling as if he’d run back to Rutledge Manor instead of subjecting her to a silent carriage ride. His brown curls were wild, standing on end in some places. A large purple bruise was already sprouting below his right eye, dark dried blood spread over his nose and cheek, and a few cuts still oozing bright red. He had lost his coat at some point from the carriage to the bedchamber. The muscles of his arms contracted, twitched. His body radiating with tension. With rage.

Her breathing picked up. He was so animal, so powerfully arousing. The way he had taken down her assailants. Her core pulsed. She fanned herself with her hand. He’s cross with you, Franny. Get a hold of yourself. But she didn’t want to. She was alive. They were alive. Her blood thrummed. Priggish Perty going all…Protective Perty was enough to send her body into heat. Her gaze locked on his. Dark muddy waters stared back at her. How she wanted to jump into those dirty depths with him.

“What the fuck were you thinking, Franny?”

Oh. She liked that language on his tongue.

“Do you have feathers for brains? Do you even have that? God, do you have any idea the danger you put yourself in? And for what—a little thrill? Are you incapable of thinking before acting?”

She blinked. She didn’t particularly like that , though. “Nothing happened, Rupert. I am fine. Truly, it is not a big deal.”

Perhaps, that was laying it on a bit thick. But nothing had happened. Franny did not—could not—dwell on it. If she chose to dwell on the things she’d endured for the last two decades of her life, it’d swallow her whole. She’d long ago learned to shove those memories into a deep, dark corner, locking them away where they couldn’t reach her. It wasn’t the first time men had tried to take advantage of her, even if it had been the most dire.

Franny did what she always did—numbed herself and moved on without looking back. Pretended it didn’t exist. She was an expert at pretending, after all. So skilled at it at this point, she could no longer tell where the act ended and she began.

The flickering candlelight gleamed against the whites of his eyes, stretched unnaturally wide. Apprehension skittered over her at his unhinged stare. Or perhaps it was the way he appeared to be trying to wrench out his hair… She opened her mouth—

“Oh my God,” he said, laughing wildly, jerking his head back and forth. “It is not a big deal? It is not a big deal? Do you know what those men were going to do to you? Fuck, Franny! All I keep seeing over and over in my mind are those men on you. All I can think about is what if I hadn’t gotten there in time ?” His voice broke, and he dragged a hand down his face, inhaled sharply. “Are you—?” He struggled to swallow. “Did they hurt you?”

“I’m fine, truly,” she rushed to assure him.

“You’re fine,” he repeated, his voice oddly high-pitched. A laugh burst from him, hollow and frantic, and it danced around them like a deranged echo. “You’re bloody fine. Thank the fucking Lord, because it was very close to you being far from fine. God, you don’t think, Franny! You do as you please and piss on the consequences. Not giving a bloody damn about the destruction you leave in your wake. The people you hurt, the ones who care for you. Do you have any fucking clue the scare you just put me through? First, not knowing if I would even find you. And then, seeing those men…”

He yanked on his hair, his ribcage heaving, waistcoat straining at the seams. “I would have murdered them if I had the chance. All because you ran off acting like an unruly child. Because you cannot possibly sit home and act like a respectable woman!”

Her frustration boiled over, shooting from her like steam from a kettle. It always came back to blasted respectability with him.

“You are such an insufferable lobcock! You think I was running off to have some fun—for a thrill ? No. I was trying to win enough money so I could leave your bloody disparaging arse. All I get from you is condemnation. I will never be good enough for the Prestigious Perty.” She sucked in air.

And then her breath stuttered.

She blinked as his words registered.

“You care for me?” she asked dumbly.

He actually cared what happened to her? Two decades of the absence of it made the concept nearly impossible for her mind to make sense of. And she thought at this point, she probably wouldn’t even recognize it if it hit her square in the face.

That’s when she noticed the absence. The absence of his chest rising and falling, the absence of his fists clenching and unclenching, even the absence of his telltale anxious thigh tapping. Complete and utter absence of movement.

Her gaze darted around the room, then back at him, and she curled her toes in her boots. He remained still as death. The light in his eyes completely gone. Snuffed out.

“Rupert?” she asked hesitantly.

And then a fire roared to life behind those dark brown eyes.

“You.” His voice was low. Soft. Silk. “Were going to leave me.” Silk that could strangle.

Whoops. Hadn’t meant to admit that. Her stomach dropped straight through the floor to the level below, possibly even farther. Shite.

He pivoted and threw open their adjoining door.

Oh, no, he didn’t.

Franny ran after him, and the minute his boot hit the threshold of his chamber, she launched herself at him. She collided with his back, wrapping her arms around his neck and chest, latching onto any part of him she could gain purchase. He was so deliciously hard.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he bit out.

Right. Focus, Franny.

“You are not running from me, Rupert. This conversation is not over.” Not when such a big realization had been made.

He shook like a giant wet dog, but she only gripped him tighter, trying to scale him with her legs, hold on to him with any part of her. Every part of her. She’d always been skilled at climbing trees.

“Let me go, Franny. I swear to God, now is not the time. Get your leechlike fingers off me.”

Leech? Well, that wasn’t flattering. She growled. And bit where his neck met his shoulder. Digging in with her teeth. Leeches drew blood, did they not?

“Arghhh!” He spun around and strode back into her room. He stormed to her bed and promptly fell backward, crushing her into the mattress. She let go, and he twisted around on top of her, pinning her to the bed.

They stared hard at each other, ragged breaths filling the room, his exhales puffing over her lips. He smelled like clean sweat and smoky scotch and cherry tarts.

The muffled sound of splashing water registered to her ears, drifting over from her bathing chamber. He had ordered a bath for her? Her heart melted and softened as she searched his darkening gaze. His grip on her upper arms loosened, and his face dropped infinitesimally closer to hers. Please kiss me.

“You were going to leave me.”

The pain in his voice sliced through her. Sliced easily through her softened heart. She looked away, no longer able to bear his gaze. She stared blindly into the four-poster bed’s ivory curtains. “You know it would be for the best,” she said in a small voice. “You can’t stand me. It’ll be one less burden in your life, me gone.”

His fingers landed softly on her chin, and he drew her gaze back to his. Tried to. But she couldn’t. She stared at his throat, the muscles constricting with each swallow.

“You may say you care, but we both know you’d be happy I left,” she said to his Adam’s apple. “I’m a bastard anyway.”

His entire body stilled atop hers.

She pushed at his chest, and he immediately rolled off her. She stood and shrugged out of her coat, throwing it in her trunk.

“I’m not sure why I hadn’t thought of it sooner,” she said, pulling her lawn shirt from her breeches. Probably because, as Rupert had said correctly, she didn’t think. She was rash, impulsive, and thoughtless. “This is your answer. I’m a bastard. You have been deceived. We can get an annulment, and you’ll…be free of me. And me of you. There will be scandal, but you and your perfect reputation will recover, I’m sure.”

She turned back. He sat on the edge of her bed, his jaw flexing. She set her hands on her hips and lifted her chin. Come on, Rupert. Reject me. You have your out. And it wouldn’t mean a thing to her at all. Her fingers dug into her hips. This is what she wanted. See, she was really bloody good at pretending.

“You think I want an annulment?” he asked quietly.

She shivered at his tone. Nails on slate.

“You think I give a fig that you are a bastard?”

She frowned. “Well, of course you do. You’re Pretentious Perty. God forbid he marries a bastard. Let us not fool ourselves. We both know you would’ve burned up that betrothal contract the minute you found out. Probably alongside a bottle of champagne.”

That much should be obvious.

His hand sliced through the air, but he said nothing. He stormed to the door to his chambers, his feet thundering so loud she was sure they could hear it in the servants’ quarters.

He paused. One hand gripped the door frame, his knuckles bloodless, his breath coming too fast, too uneven.

“Mrs. Higgens will be up shortly to look over you, get you anything you need. A bath should be ready for you shortly,” he said emotionlessly.

“Rupert…” She reached for him, even though he faced away from her.

“I cannot do this right now.”

The door slammed behind him, and she jumped.

How had this conversation deteriorated so quickly?