Page 49

49

Rupert

Rupert made his way back to the sitting room. The doctor had arrived, and Rupert’d seen Franny back to her chambers where she could be examined. Mrs. Higgens was with her, and Sanderson should be joining Rupert momentarily. He paused before the doorway. A torrent of emotions surged to the surface. He didn’t know if he could face her. Didn’t want to.

Everything he knew was a lie. That woman in there may be his mother by blood, but none of the love and affection she had spouted over the years was true. She didn’t care about him. She cared about the purpose he could serve her.

And how pathetic was he? Always trying to live up to her expectations, always chasing after the next demand, the next obstacle, she set out for him. Biddable, never questioning, not his own man. Franny had the right of it. One-and-twenty years. All of it a facade, a stage his mother had created for him to parade on. And he had. A pitiful puppet.

His heart raged in his chest, and he fisted his hands at his sides. He had loved her. Trusted her. She was his mother, bloody fucking damn it. His nostrils flared, and he squeezed his eyes shut, squeezed back the tumult trying to break free. Break him. He’d never truly had a father. She was all he had. His only family. He barely even had friends anymore because they weren’t suitable . He froze. Blinked. And his stomach dropped to the floor. She was all he had because she’d made it so. And Franny had been another threat. Another threat that needed elimination.

His raging heart disintegrated. Gone. All that was left was a cold, emotionless, numbing. He set his shoulders, cracked his neck, and strode into the room.

His mother’s gaze snapped to his, and he froze a few feet inside. His muscles locked, every fiber of his being recoiling. His skin crawled, hot and tight, like the air carried the weight of her betrayal. Being in the same room with her was unbearable enough. Proximity would only make it worse.

“Rupert, I understand you are upset—”

“Upset?” he roared. He slashed his hand through the air, grinding his teeth. He drew in three calming breaths, and when he spoke again, his tone was eerily calm. “Upset does not even begin to scratch the surface, Mother .” He spat the last word. It was acidic, putrid, on his tongue.

She shook her head, pity etched over her thin, aging features. “Rupert, please darling, you must calm down. A gentleman is always in control of his emotions. I did this for you. It is what is best for you. I know you truly believe that. She has manipulated you; so you cannot see clearly right now. But with some time away from her, you will see the truth again.”

Rupert gaped at her. She was mad. Had completely lost hold of her senses. Had she always been this—this unhinged?

“Oh, pish. Don’t look at me such. You said it earlier, and I know it is how you truly feel. You were forced into this marriage. An unfortunate arrangement that the Earl most definitely deceived your father into. I am righting a wrong. One day, you will thank me for this, Rupert. You will—”

“You will cease speaking,” he ordered, his tone rapier sharp. “That is enough . I have had it with your lies, with these absurdities you are spewing. You have committed forgery . That is a crime. Do you know what the punishment is for that crime?”

“Rupert…” she warned.

“You do not get to Rupert me. I have let you run roughshod over me for far too long. You have zero influence over me any longer. Tell me now. Was this the only time? Have you sent any other letters on my behalf?”

Good Lord. He was heavily involved in Parliament. He could only imagine the damage this woman could do forging his signatures. He closed his eyes. Isn’t that what she had already been doing? Manipulating him to champion her causes. To push for bills that supported her views. Views he’d always second guessed.

“No, of course not. Do not be so excitable. I was merely…guiding things along, as any caring mother would. I took action. I knew she would prey on your soft heart. You have always been much too na?ve. I merely found us an out.”

“I don’t believe you,” he said flatly. “You may as well save your breath, because I won’t believe one word that comes out of your mouth. You are fortunate I cannot allow word of this to get out. I will not taint the Rutledge name. You say Franny deceived us? The only deception here was done by you.”

They studied each other. Silent.

Footsteps sounded behind him, and then Sanderson appeared next to Rupert. “You called, my lord?”

“Send word to my estate in Scarborough, Sanderson. The dowager has expressed her desire for an extended stay there.”

A sharp breath echoed through the room. “Rupert, darling. What has gotten into you? You would send your dear mama away? With my weak heart?” She lifted one hand to flutter above her chest. “I could pass any day, and you want to ship me off somewhere remote? Is this really how you want our last conversation to go? I know I have been hard on you. But it is only because I knew the potential that existed inside of you. I want the best for you. And, I may have made mistakes, but everything I have done, everything I do, is for you.”

He held up a hand, silencing her except for her wheezing echoing through the room. Fury festered in the depths of his chest as he stared blindly at the floor. How dare she try to make him feel guilty? He hated her for it. Because he did feel guilty, even though he knew he shouldn’t. He’d already lost his father. And this very well could be the last time he saw her. But what she had done was unforgivable.

“No,” he said softly. “This is not how I’d want our last conversation to go.” He lifted his gaze to hers. “But if this is our last conversation, that’s a weight you will carry. This is not my doing. It is yours.”

“You always spoke of how much you wished you could get out of the betrothal. That you feared she’d embarrass you,” she pleaded with him with her gaze, her eyes welling.

What an actress she was. He didn’t doubt for a second now that her little fainting spell from earlier was feigned. Her duplicity burned an acidic hole deep in his gut.

“Every interaction you had with that woman growing up always left you furious,” she implored. “You could not stand her, even as a child. Just before the wedding, you even told me you wished you could have chosen your own bride. That anyone else would have been better than her. I only did what you wanted.”

He barely prevented himself from covering his ears. She could not pin this on him. Could not twist it around to make him the villain. He may have voiced his frustrations about the betrothal over the years, but they were merely that—complaints about a less-than-ideal situation. But a voice whispered in his mind: If you had found this out before the marriage took place, you would have used it as your excuse to walk away.

“How can you put the blame on me when I was doing what you had always asked me to do?” she said, her words joining the mocking voice in his head.

His eyes flew wide as realization swept over him like an icy wave. Fucking Christ. This was what she had always done. Turned things around on him. Made him feel as though he was the one in the wrong. Her sickening manipulation. Every time he strayed too far from the path she had set out for him, in came the carefully constructed pleas to evoke remorse, settling the blame at his feet.

And he fell for it.

Every.

Bloody.

Time.

“You will be on your way as soon as a coach can be readied. You leave tonight. And that is all I will say on the matter.”

True fear settled over her features. It was about bloody time it registered that he was serious. Her days of controlling him, fooling him, were over.

God, he was a blasted fool.

No longer.

“But… The sun has set. It is dangerous to travel at night. You wouldn’t want me to get set upon by highwaymen, would you? Don’t do something rash while angry, Rupert. At least wait until the morning. I am sure with a clear mind you will feel differently.”

“I have never seen things more clearly than I do right now. You fear the danger of traveling alone and at night? Perhaps you should have thought about that before you violated both the law and my trust. Before you tried to take the woman I love away from me. Because at that point, your welfare ceased to matter. You leave tonight.”

He turned to Sanderson. “My marchioness and I are for London first thing on the morrow. Ensure all our necessary items are packed and that the London house is alerted of our impending arrival. Take care to ensure she has everything she needs to stay comfortable on the ride with her injury. That will be all.”

“Yes, my lord.” Sanderson slipped from the room.

Rupert slowly walked up to his mother, every muscle protesting. He paused before her. She stared straight ahead, refusing to meet his gaze, sharp nostrils flaring, but chin still held high.

“It was all for naught,” he murmured. “No matter what comes to pass because of your treachery, one thing will never change. I will always stand by my wife.”

He shook his head, his lip curling up as he let out a huff of disgust. “It is a shame. If parliamentary ambition was your main use for me, you have completely obliterated it. And the irony in all of this? I think Franny will make a spectacular Prime Minister’s wife. If you had only allowed time to get to know her, you would have realized that woman has the power to win over the world.”

A soft blue vein pulsed in his mother’s pale forehead.

He walked over to the door, pausing at the threshold. He looked back over his shoulder. “But alas, I have no plans to be Prime Minister. I never did.”

With that, he left the room. Every last ounce of energy had drained from him. The rage, the anguish, the confusion, the disbelief, sucked him dry of any feeling. He blindly made his way down the hall, pushing through an oak door and stopping when the smell of lemon and wildflowers hit his nose. He blinked at the sage decor. At the raven-haired woman lying in the bed. Not his chambers. Franny’s chambers. He hadn’t really had a destination in mind. He couldn’t make any more decisions, the fatigue too heavy.

“Rupert?” She pushed to sitting, and their stares locked. Her gaze searched his, her brows knitting. “Come here,” she said gently.

He walked to her, nothing more than a shell of himself, and paused at her bedside.

“Are you all right, Rupert?” Her words were soft, like a balm.

He shook his head. An intense pressure built behind his eyes. No, he was the furthest from all right.

“Do you want to speak about it?”

He shook his head again.

She reached for his hand and gave him a light tug. “Lie with me?”

He stared at where her hand held his. So much strength rested in those delicate fingers. She was far stronger than he had ever been. But he was going to be better for her. Because she shouldn’t have to be strong alone any longer. She wasn’t alone any longer. She would always have him.

He toed off his boots, pulled back the bedcovers, and slid into bed fully clothed. She nestled into him, and he tucked her to his chest, inhaling deep in her silky ebony hair. It was the smell of comfort.

“How is your ankle? Your head?” he murmured. “What did the doctor have to say?”

Franny pulled back, gifting him a small smile. “Nothing to worry over. Keep my weight off my ankle. The scrape on my head didn’t even require stitches. It’ll take more than a fall from a horse to fell me.”

His mouth twitched. His heart fluttered. A small amount of feeling seeped back into his body. He traced down her temple, over the curve of her cheek until he reached her chin. He tilted her toward him and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. His heart fluttered again, with more force this time. With more feeling.

“Is it true what you said back there…” Her eyes darted between his, and she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “Do you really love me?” she asked faintly. Like she was afraid he’d take it back. Like she didn’t truly believe him.

He popped her lip free from its prison with his thumb, gaze glued to the movement of the pink flesh springing free. His stare flicked up to hers, and he nodded slowly.

Franny’s eyes welled, and she blinked furiously.

“I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely, their breaths mingling. For this day. For not being the one to bring her home. For every condescending word and every disparaging statement he’d ever hurled her way. For carving doubt so deeply within her that she couldn’t trust his words to be true. “I meant it, Franny. The first decision I’ve ever made as my own man. Is you. Always you—” His voice broke.

“Shhhh,” she crooned and rested her forehead against his. “I love you, Rupert,” she whispered. “That is all that is important right now.”

“I have no idea why. I have done nothing to deserve it.”

She pulled away and swept back his stubborn curls. “My love doesn’t have strings, Rupert. It is freely given. You don’t need to do anything, prove anything to me, to deserve it.”

She dusted a kiss over his lips, and he squeezed his eyes shut tight. His heart beat wildly, a riot in his chest.

“I think I might be a mess, Franny.” He found her gaze again, struggling to raise his eyelids as exhaustion pressed heavily on them.

Her lips twitched. “And I’m the definition of put-together.”

He huffed out a laugh, and she nestled into his chest. “That’s how I know this is true love,” she murmured. “It’s easy to love someone at their best. But I love you always, Rupert. Mess or best.”

He swallowed thickly, tried to force down the emotion sticking in his throat. But it was no use. Even so, somehow, he still managed to get out the words.

“I love you, too. Mess or best.”

And for the first time since the start of his marriage, he fell asleep with his wife in his arms.