A knock on the door forced her to tear herself away from the article. The man who preoccupied her thoughts walked through the door. Her striking husband was not smiling, and she wondered if he was here because of the paper. He seemed distracted.
She rose and said, “Hello, Sam.”
“Clara, I have been looking everywhere for you.”
She squared her shoulders and tilted her chin. She haughtily raised an eyebrow, freezing him out from her real feelings.
“Why?”
“There are things I need to tell you,” he explained.
She nodded to the paper on the table and said, “Do you mean this?”
His brow wrinkled in confusion. “I don’t read that drivel.”
She walked over to the table and pointed to the damning section. “Perhaps you should.”
Sam made his way to the table and stood next to her. His body brushed against her, and his touch made her tremble. She scolded herself silently for her reaction to him.
He read the paper and his eyes flew back up to her. “You can’t believe this.”
She shrugged indifferently. “There was a similar story about Addie.”
“You would think that badly of me and your friend.”
Clara straightened herself and said, “I am unconcerned. We were married because of unusual circumstances. Fidelity was not the focus.”
He looked stricken and for a brief moment Clara had the urge to drop her normal cold facade and really speak with him. She just couldn't, the hurt was too much.
“I think I will spend some time with my sister.”
His jaw tightened and fury sparked from his eyes. She stared back at him and said, “One last thing, Sam.”
“Yes,” he bit out.
“I do not care who you take on as your mistress, but I expect discretion. If we are to have any chance of being accepted by society, it is most important. Not even your heavy-handed tactics to force my parents to welcome us can help us if your behavior is seen as unseemly.”
“Unseemly,” he snarled.
Clara stepped back startled by his anger. He knocked the paper off the table. “You are a fool, Clara, to believe such falsehoods. Do you really think me that much of a scoundrel?”
Her heart pounded in her chest and her icy facade crumpled. “What am I supposed to believe?” she hissed.
He strode over to her, so they were face to face. “You are supposed to believe in me.”
“Believe what? That you do not sleep with a plethora of ladies? You already admitted to that and still continue to hold the debt of my parents. Do you know how undignified that is?”
He snapped, “What did you expect? I am not a gentleman. Just a man from the gutters of Philadelphia.”
“I don’t care about that. I never have.”
He laughed darkly. “Admit it. That is what this is all about. As time has crept on, the thought of giving up being a titled lady has eaten at you.”
“How dare you? You dare to judge me when your actions are reprehensible,” she snapped, fury exploding in her chest.
“Everything I have done is for you,” he hissed.
“Perhaps or perhaps for yourself,” she hissed back.
