Page 55 of The Secret Love of a Gentleman (The Marlow Family Secrets #3)
Rob walked quickly, his arms swinging with his long strides, as his greatcoat swayed about his calves.
He knew, God , he knew, he had broken a rule of morality when he began an affair with Caro, a divorcee, a former Marchioness. A woman whom scandal had already surrounded. He had made her reputation worse and cut his own heart in two.
He gritted his teeth against the anger in his blood. A few days ago, she told him he came across as feeling inferior, even though she thought he was not inferior to anyone. Then at the ball she told him he was too young to be certain that he loved her.
Harry and his cousins, those Caro thought he felt inferior to, would laugh their heads off if they heard how he had lost his virginity, fallen in love, and then been told he was too young to know what love was.
‘Of course you will think you have fallen in with love me. The act of making love may have confused you, and what will you feel in a year or two,’ she had said.
Anger fuelled his pace. He was not confused. His feelings were ripping at his soul. He felt betrayed .
The night was dark, there were no stars, the moon was hidden behind a layer of clouds, and there were no gas lamps lighting the streets he walked.
He could not even see his feet. This morning, he had begun to see a life-long future for himself, as a tenant of a manor with farmland, which meant he could marry her soon and fulfil his ambition to run for Parliament.
Now, if he did any of that there would always be a void…
A space that missed her part in his future.
He steadied his breathing as he walked, trying to silence his anger. She had said there might still be a future for them.
‘I love you, and it is because I love you that I want you to walk away from me. If you still love me in two years’ time, we will speak of marriage.’
It was not what he wanted, but he did understand to some degree.
‘I have been married, and his love was not real, it did not last the tests of marriage. I cannot face that again.’
She had loved Kilbride deeply, even when he began beating her. That marriage had not only turned sour, her husband had become cruel and left her enduring years of shame. Rob could never be violent, but if his love did fade, she would feel that shame again.
He wanted to give her a good shake, to make her believe in him. Yet, the only way he would achieve that would be to set up his life as he planned and to remain constant. To show her his love would endure, and then, she would know she could trust him.
She would be in his future. She had to be. He would make her life, and his, as happy as he could as soon as she would trust him body, heart and soul.
The night was cold. Rob rubbed his hands together as he walked. He had dressed believing he would be riding home in the carriage, not walking home through dark streets.
A light rain began falling, adding to his bad humour.
Inferior . The word rang through him like a bell tolling. It was true. He had felt inferior since he was a child, and thought himself righteous and principled, claiming that was why his entitled cousins annoyed him.
He was also inferior to the woman he loved. Inferior in status, in life experience because she was six years his elder and inferior in common sense and strength of heart.
His footfalls echoed as he walked along the dark empty street.
Damn her. She was right, of course – they should not rush into committing themselves to one another when he had no independent income, other than what his brother, John, gave him from the Duke of Pembroke’s estate.
He had no home for them to live in. He had no wealth or respect.
Of course, she would want to wait until he could prove his reliability.
It was so dark, he could not see the pavement to know where he put his feet – in the same way that he could not see his future right now. But he walked, one foot after another, just as he would continue his life and show Caro he could love her and take care of her as she deserved.
His hand slipped into his pockets for warmth as he turned a corner.
Crack. The sound broke through his skull. Something hard and heavy had struck the back of his head.
Rob dropped to his knees on the wet pavement, not unconscious but dazed and shocked.
The sole of a man’s boot thumped into his face, knocking him onto the cobbles of the street.
He raised his hands, trying to protect himself, but the kicks came too fast, and he was dizzy and disorientated from the first blow.
Something solid and cold struck his arm, something metal. A sharp pain lanced up his arm. The same solid implement struck his upper leg, and he felt the bone snap.
Bile lurched into his throat and he vomited on the pavement, so close to his head he lay in it.
‘The gentleman said to tell you to leave what is his alone,’ a rough man’s voice growled.
Another hard blow hit his forehead, and everything went dark.