Page 178 of Rogue of My Heart

Her mother had been right. Nothing good ever came from eavesdropping; for there was only one explanation that made sense, why Michael might be corresponding with another woman while requesting that it remain absolutely secret from her.

He has a mistress.

Tears stung the back of her eyelids, but she refused to let them fall.

She also had to fight the urge to pack her things and return to London posthaste. She would not be a coward and run away in shame. After all, she wasn’t the one who had done anything wrong. Granted, it might be difficult to look Michael in the eye after knowing the truth, and any hope that they might make amends had come crashing down, but she would be strong. She had planned to stay until the St. John’s Eve celebration, and that’s what she would do. But once it was over, she would return to London.

And that’s where she would stay.

Nine

A lady must never make a hasty judgment…

Lady A’s Advice Column

* * *

Michael stood in the doorway of the ballroom, arms crossed, leaning against the frame, as he watched his wife and Mrs. Humphrey discuss what decorations would be needed for the St. John’s Eve celebration.

Albina’s entire body was animated, her face set and focused on her task, as her hands moved about.

He had to snort. She never had been able to talk without using her entire body to express what she was saying.

He was impressed with how much devotion she was putting into making this year’s party a success. For the past week, she had spoken with all of the staff and had instantly thrown herself in the preparations. He could tell that Mrs. Humphrey was glad to share the burden of planning, and while he didn’t want to tell himself that Albina’s eagerness to assist had anything to do with the fact it would be their twenty-fifth anniversary, he couldn’t help but believe this would be the year everything would change for the better.

He suddenly frowned. However, now that he came to think of it, she had declined every offer he’d made in the past seven days. Whether it was to offer another trip to the village, or take a ride together in the afternoon, or to even let him teach her how to properly drive the newly repaired phaeton, her answer was always the same. Even though things between them had become a stalemate, she claimed she was exhausted from so much work. True, she’d been ill before throwing herself into the plans for St. John’s Eve, so he hadn’t pressed the issue.

But now he had to wonder if there was an underlying reason for her reticence to be alone with him. Not only was she silent, speaking very little during the times she did join him for meals, but she hadn’t pursued any more conjugal visits either. After that one, amazing night, he’d thought things had vastly improved, that the chasm had closed considerably between them.

So what had changed?

Perhaps it was time he found out.

He walked forward and approached the two women. Mrs. Humphrey greeted him with a warm smile, but Albina’s eyes were as frosty as a winter windowpane. He frowned. Now he knew he wasn’t just being paranoid.

* * *

Something had definitely happened. What the hell did I do?

“Alby, can I speak with you a moment?”

She visibly stiffened at the sound of her nickname. “I’m rather busy, my lord. St. John’s Eve is only a few days away.”

“I’m aware of that,” he returned evenly. “I’ll keep it brief.”

Michael could tell she was going to deny him again, but salvation came in the form of his housekeeper. “It’s fine, my lady. We can resume later this afternoon. I have a few things I can see to while you and Lord Beauley chat.”

As she took her leave, Albina clasped her hands before her and waited for him to speak.

Michael wanted to run his hand through his hair in frustration. She wasn’t going to make this easy for him. She was as uptight as the governess he’d had as a child.

“Let’s retire to the library and have a drink.” I know I can use one.

He wanted to look behind him to see if his wife followed, but he could feel her presence in the room as surely as if a thundercloud had just rolled in off of the ocean. He poured himself a brandy and glanced at her.

“Would you care for something?”

“No, thank you.” She stood by the door as if prepared to bolt at any moment.