Page 30 of Ruby in the Rough (Heiress #4)

Chapter

Thirty

C ordelia may have thought herself much better prepared than she actually was at the Haden ball. The idea of attending yet another event without her husband only solidified the understanding that her spouse was disinterested with their union and only further proved his disloyalty.

He had tried to seek you out at Grosvenor Square, so not entirely disinterested…

The thought drifted through her mind, and she dismissed it, unable to remove the upsetting image of him alone with his mistress. To think that he dared join her in bed that very morning. His arms about her, cradling her as if that were the only place in the world he wished to be.

It made little sense that a man could go from showing such affection to then being caught with his lover.

Ex lover…

She sighed and downed the last of her champagne, the room, which was full to the brim with society swam and before she thought better of her choices, she reached for another glass from a passing footman and handed him her empty crystal goblet.

“Perfect,” she mumbled to herself.

“Duchess?”

She turned to find Lord Gully staring down at her, an amused grin on his face. He bowed and picked up her gloved hand, kissing the top of it with a flourish that even in her downward mood, impressed her.

“Lord Gully,” she replied, wondering why he was singling her out. He’d shown no interest in her during the beginning of the Season, so his clear attentiveness now was comical.

He glanced about, clearing searching for someone. “Is the duke not here? Remiss of him to allow his beautiful wife to attend such events on her own.”

She sipped her refreshment, relishing the bubbles that tickled her nose. “I often attend events on my own, my lord. I no longer need a chaperone as well you know.”

He raised his brows, and she smiled back. It was clear he was attempting to dally with her, and she didn’t have it in her to deny him a little amusement. And did she not come here this evening to forget her cheating spouse? To push away the memory of him holding his mistress under their own roof?

Renewed annoyance thrummed through her and she finished the glass of champagne, gesturing for a footman to return. “Would you care for wine, my lord? It’s particularly delicious this evening.”

Lord Gully’s gaze sharpened on her and he took step closer than perhaps he ought. “And after our refreshments, perhaps you would honor me with a dance, Your Grace?”

She nodded, agreeing and wishing for the first time since leaving her home the day before that Walpole was here. Allow him to see her enjoying a little flirtation with another man. See how he would like the sentiment.

But he was not here, and that was certainly not going to stop her from enjoying herself. “I would like that very much. I believe the next dance is to be a waltz.”

“So I shall get to hold you in my arms.” His interest was clear and his words did not loiter.

“You will indeed,” she said, just as his lordship handed her another glass that they saluted to each other before taking another delicious sip.

C hristian stood with Jane at the side of the ballroom. Having arrived late, he was eager to see if Cordelia was indeed here. For the first time in his life, or at least since he was a young boy, his stomach churned with nerves.

Would she cut him in society, or would she do her duty and at least give him the opportunity to speak to him, even if she did not wish to.

She was a duke’s daughter after all, she was more than aware of what society expected of her, and even more so now that she was a wife.

His wife…

He heard Jane gasp, and her alarm caused him to glance out onto the ballroom floor. The breath in his lungs seized at the sight of Cordelia, waltzing about the ballroom floor, her smile wide, her eyes sparkling with humor as Lord Gully held her in his arms.

Far too intimately for Christian’s liking.

He ground his teeth, knowing he could not make a scene, but by God he wanted to. He narrowed his eyes on Gully, more than willing to bide his time with the gentleman before he taught the earl a lesson in manners and that he would not allow anyone to cuckhold him, or ruin what he had with Cordelia.

What you ruined with her…

He pushed the unhelpful thought aside and debated what to do. Even if she were so very angry with him at present, she would soon come to understand that their whole situation was a misunderstanding.

“You need to tell her you love her…”

He sighed and remained where he was. Drank in the sight of his wife in her empire-style gown of dark-ruby silk.

How beautiful she was. Possibly more so than he had ever seen her before.

With her blonde locks pinned up, soft curls that had fallen free bouncing upon her shoulders, she was breathtaking.

And his…

The niggling concern she was happier without him gnawed at his innards and he pushed it aside. She surely would not be. It was an impossibility. He loved her and she loved him, he was certain of it.

“Go to her, brother, and cut in. You must speak to Cordelia and make everything right between you.”

Of course he needed to listen to his sister and do such a thing, but the fear she would push him away halted his nerve. He spotted Ravensmere across the room and the duke’s raised, expectant brow gave him the push he needed.

Of course he needed to cut in, claim her as his before everyone, just as he should have done from the moment they arrived back in London. He was a selfish ass for not doing so, but no longer.

Before he knew what he was about, he was weaving his way through the throng of dancers, ensuring not to interrupt anyone’s steps. Lord Gully had the aptitude to halt his dance with Cordelia and they swept to a stop before him.

“My dance I believe.”

Lord Gully stepped aside without question and gestured for him to take his place.

Smart man…

Without a word, Christian pulled Cordelia into his arms and swept her into the dance, relishing the feel of her back in his arms.

He’d missed her so very much, hated that they had been at odds these past days, and for no reason. While of course he understood her fear and hurt, he was determined to make her see, to know that he only wanted and loved one woman, and that woman was right now in his arms.

Glaring up at him as if she’d like to see his head on a spike.

“I’ve missed you.” The words spilled from him before he could think of anything else to say.

She scoffed and turned her attention away from him. “I thought you would be very busy with me absent. A wife who isn’t under your roof would make for an easy life I should imagine. Allows you to do as you please, not that you’ve not been doing as you please even with me there.”

The sarcasm in her tone bit deep and he flinched at how cold she sounded, how remote from the warm and loving Cordelia he’d married.

“Please believe me that nothing has been between me and Hetty for some time now. Well before I met you my interest had waned. She required help, that is all and that is all it will ever be. I promise you that.”

She rolled her eyes and frustratingly, the dance came to an end. She stepped out of his hold and started for the side of the room. He followed and noticed for the first time this evening that her steps were uneven.

Was she foxed? Surely not.

The Duchess of Walpole could not have imbibed that much alcohol, and yet… Christian watched her. She was making straight for a footman who carried a tray of champagne, her destination stark.

Christian ignored the fact that when she claimed a glass, she did not think to take one for him. She merely turned her back, walking away as if he did not exist.

“Cordelia,” he called softly, not daring to raise his voice. “We need to talk.”

He glanced about, praying no one overheard the telling words. But she did not stop. She glided on, smiling and nodding at acquaintances who called out their greetings, while pretending her husband was nothing more than a shadow at her heels.

He could not fault her. Her hurt lay entirely at his door. And yet, watching her ignore him sliced through him like no blade ever had. To be dismissed by the one woman he adored—God help him, his chest ached in agony.

“Cordelia,” he said again, sharper this time.

She stopped. At last, she turned, lifted her wineglass, and drained it in one long gulp. Then, cool as polished marble, she said, “I did not expect you to be here this evening.”

She looked past him and Christian loathed her disinterest, that she could not even tolerate looking at him.

“Please,” he murmured, stepping closer. “Know what I say is true. Come home, and let us discuss this matter further.”

“There is nothing to discuss.” Her voice rang low but firm. “I will not be coming home. Not now. Not ever.”

“You must come home,” he pressed. “You are the Duchess of Walpole. Nothing can change that. Nothing—save the false belief that I have betrayed you.”

“I did not imagine the sight of you embracing your mistress,” she retorted.

“Listen to me.” He stepped closer still.

“Hetty has found a new protector, but he is a cruel man. I put my steward onto the issue going forward and he will deal with the matter. I did not invite her to our house. She forced her way past the butler and instead of causing more of a scene, I thought it best to hear her out.”

Cordelia’s laugh was bitter. “And you thought it best to embrace her too?”

“She embraced me,” Christian insisted, knowing that sounded like a pathetic excuse. “I know how it looked, but I swear on Jane’s life and do you think I take that oath lightly? I was showing kindness. Nothing more.”

Cordelia’s hand wavered slightly against her skirts, her body swaying ever so faintly. “Are you foxed?” he asked, unable not to.

Her eyes snapped up, fury bright in them. “And if I am whose fault is that? In any case, I am allowed to drink, am I not? Or have you made some new rule for the wife you mistreat?”

“I am not chastising or mistreating you,” he added quickly. “I only thought you seemed…uneven on your feet and inquired on the matter.”

“Well, that is because, until you arrived, I was enjoying myself. With refreshments.”

“Cordelia, please?—”

He wanted to beg but hated himself for even considering it. He was a duke, a man accustomed to command. And yet for her—only her—it seemed he would abase himself without hesitation.

She turned on her heel and walked away once more.

He followed, this time out into the foyer. Passing Jane, he caught her arm. “Go to the Duchess of Ravensmere and ask her to chaperone you for the rest of the evening and see you home. I must speak with Cordelia.”

Jane’s eyes softened and she squeezed his arm in support. “Of course. Good luck.”

He nodded and went in search of his wife. He found Cordelia at the front doors, speaking briefly to a footman before the young man dashed off—likely to summon her carriage.

“Cordelia, what are you doing?” Christian demanded.

“I am returning to Grosvenor Square.”

“That is not your home,” he said firmly. “Your home is with me at Berkley Square.”

“I do not want to be married to you or return home with you.”

The words struck like a fist to his gut. He took a fortifying breath. “You do not mean that.”

Her chin lifted. “Do not think me so foolish as to say what I do and do not believe. You warned me from the first. You told me marriage to you would not be one of love or faithfulness. I should have heeded the warning. Instead, I hoped for something better. I was a fool. And seeing you with Hetty…” Her voice broke. “Proved that hope was wasted.”

A carriage rolled to a halt before the townhouse. The footman opened the door, lowering the steps. Cordelia swept forward and climbed inside, regal besides the fact she wabbled a little climbing in.

Christian followed, ignoring her sharp cry of outrage. “Get out.”

“Berkeley Square,” he ordered the driver, shutting the door firmly and determined to make Cordelia see sense. The carriage lurched forward.

“What do you think you are doing?” she snapped.

“I am taking you home,” he said. “To Berkeley Square.”

“That is not my home. Not anymore, you made sure of that.”

“It is. And it always will be. You are my wife, Cordelia. We must talk. This rift between us is absurd.”

“Absurd?” She laughed coldly, turning to the window.

“I hoped I would be enough for you. Seeing you with Hetty proved otherwise. And if nothing happened this time, what is to stop there being another? Another woman, another moment where compassion becomes temptation, and temptation becomes betrayal.”

Her voice cracked. “I was foolish to dream of a marriage like my sisters. I am angry at you for destroying that dream. And I am angry at myself for loving you. For allowing you to rip away what I thought possible.”

“Cordelia…” His voice thickened as he slid closer, seizing her cold hands in his.

He rubbed warmth into them, hating that she shivered away from him.

“I am in love with you. Do you not see? From the moment we met, you began to consume me. You are in my thoughts, in every plan, in every waking moment. I look for you in every room. I cannot draw breath without thinking of you.”

His chest ached with the truth of it, raw and terrifying. He had fought against this from the beginning, had sworn he would never be bound by love. And yet, here he was, undone by the one woman who mattered more than pride, more than reputation, more than his very name.

“I hate myself for warning you as I did,” he admitted hoarsely.

“For claiming I could not love. That I would never be faithful. I was an arrogant fool. Because even then, some part of me already knew—when it came to you, I had no choice.” He paused.

“I love you. And though what you saw may have looked damning, I promise it was not. I swear, it will never be. There is only you. There will only ever be you.”