“I will do everything in my power to make certain no hint of scandal taints either of you,” he vowed. “You have my word.”
“You will make a good husband for her, will you not?” Pamela was frowning, as if she had already arrived at the answer to her question and found it disappointing in the extreme.
A good husband. He hadn’t even contemplated the notion of being a husband, let alone one of merit. What to say? Their own parents were a classic example of the epic tragedy a marriage could become. Mother and Father’s mutual enmity had only been eclipsed by their own selfishness.
Trevor swallowed hard. “I shall try.”
“Try?” Pamela’s eyes narrowed as she continued pacing about his study, her gown swirling as she went. “That is hardly reassuring.”
“If you intend to throw something, please reconsider,” he drawled, attempting to lighten the grim mood. “I’ve only just replaced the inkwell.”
“I was overset when I threw the inkwell,” she defended herself. “And it was your fault then. Just as this is your fault now.”
Yes, he was to blame. But he couldn’t summon much regret. At the moment, he wanted nothing else the way he wanted Virtue in his bed. Curious, that.
The heat from the fire became too much. Trevor returned to his vigil at the window. “As we have already established, I am a rogue,” he told her with a languid air.
“And one who is utterly without compunction.” Pamela’s voice was tart. “Where is Virtue now? I will need to speak to her.”
He thought of Virtue’s flight from the music room and winced again. “I’m afraid she isn’t entirely pleased with me at the moment, having just learned that Greycote Abbey has been sold. She has refused my suit, and quite soundly, too.”
Guilt lanced him at the thought of her in tears. He hadn’t imagined she would be so devastated by the news, and the sight of her anguish had torn him apart. Her words echoed in his mind.I’ll never forgive you.How he had yearned to hold her and comfort her then, but he had known she wouldn’t have welcomed it.
“If she is displeased with you, how did you also happen to compromise her?” Pamela frowned. “Surely you did notforceher?”
“Saint’s teeth, Pamela.” He scowled, infuriated and insulted all at once. “What do you think of me? I would never harm a woman. You bloody well ought to know that.”
“I should hope not.” She sighed heavily. “Forgive me. This is all quite a shock. Not entirely a surprise, given what I witnessed in the library. But a shock, nonetheless.” Pamela paused in her furious strides suddenly. “What do you mean she has refused your suit?”
Trevor turned away, staring out the window, watching the rains lash the world beyond Hunt House. “She says she has no wish to marry me. Apparently, she intended for me to send her back to Nottinghamshire.”
“She cannot refuse you,” Pamela said grimly. “She hasn’t a choice now.”
“Then perhaps you might have a talk with Lady Virtue,” he suggested, “and persuade her to see reason.”
He had yet to change after his return from Angelo’s, and a cursory glance at his pocket watch revealed that it was just one quarter hour until he was expected to pay Tierney and Sutton a call. Trevor hadn’t intended to propose marriage today; he had been rather more concerned with finding out who wanted him dead before it was too late.
“You have created quite a disaster, brother,” Pamela observed wryly.
He didn’t bother to argue, for he had indeed. There was only one way to make it right. He had to make Virtue his duchess.
With all haste.
* * *
From the windowin her chamber, Virtue stared down at the street and square, a tapestry of carriages and people blurring together, muddled by rains. Everyone was carrying on with their day despite the murk. But her world had come to a shuddering, crashing halt.
Gone.
Her home had been sold without her permission. Without warning. She hadn’t even been afforded the opportunity to bid farewell to Greycote Abbey and the people she loved.
She wasn’t certain which was worse, the knowledge that they were all forever lost to her, or the knowledge thathewas responsible.
Trevor. No, not Trevor. Ridgely, as she must think of him now. Her enemy once again.
A knock sounded at the door to her chamber. She stiffened, hoping it wasn’t him. She needed to form a new plan now that she knew Greycote Abbey was lost to her. And that plan would not involve marriage to the Duke of Ridgely.
“Who is it?” she called.
