Page 12

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She woke to the smell of fried bacon, fresh bread, coffee and chocolate, and opened her eyes as her stomach rumbled loudly. She felt sick with hunger as she pushed the covers back and got up.

In the parlour, Andrew sat in an armchair, with a newspaper open on his lap. One place at the table had a plate with crumbs on it and a cup that was stained with coffee grounds.

‘Good morning,’ she ventured.

He did not look up from the newspaper. ‘I have ordered breakfast, luncheon and dinner for each day as you will not order for yourself. If you are not here, anything uneaten I will give to the street boys. I am going to Tattersall’s today to buy a carriage and a pair of horses to pull it. I will employ a driver at the stables. It will be yours, Mary. You may then go wherever you like, whenever you please.’

‘So I will have no need of an escort…?’

‘Quite so.’ His voice was bitter. He was still angry. Still full of pain.

Mary sat at the table. She had no idea how to respond.

‘I will also employ a lady’s maid to come in the morning and evening, to help you dress.’

‘And to undress?’ Mary’s voice had become quiet with uncertainty. Is he saying he will have nothing more to do with me?

‘She will await your return.’

Mary stood again, her hand closing about the top of the chair as her legs felt weak. ‘Peter only took me to the ball because you were not here.’

He stood too, folded the newspaper and tossed it on top of the broken chessboard. ‘I am going riding.’

‘If you wait, I will dress and come with you.’

Lacklustre hazel eyes looked back at her. ‘That is not necessary.’

‘Not necessary… Do you not want me to be with you?’

He turned away. ‘You will have your carriage by tomorrow, you may go to your brother’s and ride his horses then. Or Peter has some good ones, I am sure he would oblige.’

‘Do not be ridiculous! Spite does not suit you. It was one waltz!’ she yelled at his back.

He looked at her now. ‘We both know I am not good enough for you, so why delay the inevitable? You will find someone else. I am going out.’

‘Andrew, stop. You cannot shut me out of your life over one waltz.’ She followed him to the door, where he lifted his long riding coat from a peg.

‘That is not the issue.’ He picked up his gloves.

‘I know the issue is your family. It is not me.’

His gaze met hers. His dark eyes desolate.

‘Andrew.’ Her fingers touched the fading bruises on his cheek.

‘Let me go, Mary.’

‘To where?’

‘ I am going riding. I will come back at midday and take you to your parents and then go to Tat’s to find you a carriage and horses.’

Tears burned in Mary’s eyes. ‘You can be cruel.’

‘Me cruel? You insisted I introduce you to my parents, and you accepted Peter’s escort.’

‘And they are sins?’

‘It does not matter. Just let me go. I do not wish to argue with you.’

‘Andrew…’ It felt as though he was leaving her.

He stared at her, his hat and gloves in his hands and his coat over his arm.

Mary’s hands dropped to her sides, and she nodded. There was no point in arguing, he was unreachable in this mood.