“Perhaps I shall then, when we return to London.” The thought of returning to her old interests, long since buried by Arthur’s disapproval, filled her with a keen sense of invigoration.
The sense she was on the right path.
That everything had happened as it had for a reason. A good one.
But he was in love with his brother’s wife. You must not forget it. Or the kiss you saw, and whatever else may have happened between them.
There came her conscience, attempting to spoil everything once again.
“Why a frown?” he asked, pressing a kiss to her forehead, as if to smooth out the furrow of her discontent. “Does the prospect not please you?”
“Of course it does.” She closed her eyes for a heartbeat, trying to gather her wits. “I was thinking of something else for a moment.”
“Not him, I hope.” His sensual lips twisted in a sneer of disapproval.
He had never minced words when it came to Arthur or his dislike of her former betrothed.
“I was merely thinking of what will happen when this honeymoon comes to an end, which of course it must,” she hedged. “And will, soon. We’ve only one day left.”
“Nothing need change between us,” he said firmly, “if that is your fear.”
It was part of her fear, yes. Haines Court was a haven she never wanted to leave, because when she was here with him, she could forget everything else that had happened.
“What about Lady Anglesey?” she could not help but to ask, worrying her lip.
“You are Lady Anglesey now,” he said pointedly, caressing her cheek. “And you are the only Lady Anglesey I care about.”
She had not meant to engage in this conversation here and now, in the bath. It seemed far too heavy. And yet, now that the subject had been broached, she could not help but feel the need to continue.
“You loved her once,” she reminded him, hating that he had. Jealousy seethed inside her, much to her shame.
“IthoughtI did,” he corrected, his tone stern, his thumb moving slowly, caressing her cheekbone in steady, repeated motions. “But I was wrong. Because what I feel for you is so much stronger. So much deeper and more profound and true.”
She stilled, searching his countenance. “What you feel for me?”
He nodded, cupping her cheek in his damp, warm hand. “I’ve fallen in love with you.”
In love.
Withher.
Her foolish heart leapt.
“Me?” she squeaked.
He remained solemn, the teasing and charm nowhere to be found. “You,cariad. Only, forever, always you.”
She stared at him, bereft of words, unexpected tears stinging her eyes. Did she dare believe him? Dare trust in him? The finality of it all overwhelmed her.
“I love you, Izzy,” he repeated. “You need not return my love. But I cannot keep it to myself any longer. There is not any other woman for me. There has not been since the moment we met at the Greymoor ball, and there never will be. There is only you, my wife, my love, my life.”
“But you are a rake,” she protested. “A charmer.”
Likely, these were words he had said before. Protestations he had used on others. Except…those thoughts felt like a betrayal. He had proven himself to be kind and thoughtful, caring and considerate. And—dare she think it—trustworthy.
“I am your man,” he said softly. “Your husband. Everything I was before changed when you kissed me. I knew it instinctively. I just didn’t understand how or why.”
The walls around her heart were still in place. Crumbling and falling, it was true. Precious little remained. She wanted to believe him, and it shocked her to realize just how desperately so. She wanted to return the words. To return his love.
