“Of course, I haven’t taken another lover,” Eugenia said, reaching for him again, her hand on his sleeve. “You are the only man I want. I realized it too late, after we had that dreadful argument, and then you refused to see me or return any of my notes. My heart was broken. But then when I learned that I was carrying your babe, I realized it was fate bringing us back together again.”
It was true that she had sent him countless notes. He had cast each one into the grate and watched it turn to ash without bothering to read it. He had vowed faithfulness to his wife, and he had begun a new chapter. Eugenia belonged to the past.
Except, here she was, haunting him. Looking at him with pleading eyes and telling him she was carrying his child. A child he did not want, but one he would nonetheless love and provide for as was his duty.
But how? He could not openly acknowledge the babe. Eugenia was married to Worthing, and Torrie was married to Bess. What a hopeless, tangled mess they had made.
“Lady Worthing,” he said, careful to revert to formality with her, lest she have expectations of resuming their affair, “I am married now. We cannot be together, not in any fashion.”
Her lips twisted in a cruel sneer. “You are married to that plump, plain cow of a governess. Pray do not pretend as if you harbor tender feelings for her. You married her out of necessity, and we both know it.”
“Never speak of her that way again,” he ground out, furious on Bess’s behalf. “I’ll not allow you to utter another unkind word about her in my presence. She is neither plump, nor plain, and by God, if I ever hear you refer to her as a cow again, I will make certain you are banished from every ballroom of note in London. I won’t stop until you are turned away from every door. Do you understand me?”
That she would dare to speak of his wife in such a manner before him was as infuriating as it was insulting. It was jealousy which forked her tongue, he knew. But he would not allow Bess to be disparaged by anyone, and most assuredly not by the woman who had so callously turned her away in the darkest depths of the night, without a care for what might become of her.
Eugenia’s mouth had fallen open, and she drew her shoulders back in a defensive pose. “You dare to defend her to me?”
“Of course I defend her,” he snarled, feeling ugly. “She is my wife, and I love her.”
The first time he made the acknowledgment aloud.
He hadn’t intended for it to be spoken to Eugenia. And most certainly not like this. But he had lost control of his wits the moment she had told him she was carrying his babe in the ballroom. It was still far too much for him to comprehend. The happiness which had forever been out of his reach was finally within his grasp, and yet he knew without a doubt that it was about to slip from his fingers.
He was angry.
Angry at Eugenia.
Furious with himself for landing himself in this untenable position.
“You cannot love her,” Eugenia said with a bitter little laugh. “You’ve only just married her.”
She was echoing the words he had been thinking not long ago in the ballroom. But she was just as wrong as he had been.
“The amount of time which has passed is immaterial to my feelings,” he countered coolly. “None of this is any concern of yours. Tell me what you want from me, and it shall be done. I take care of that which is mine.”
Eugenia sidled closer, her hand traveling up his bicep to his shoulder, coasting down his chest as she pressed her breasts against him. “What I want is you, Torrie. I want you in my bed again.”
He caught her hand before it could travel any farther. “That will never happen, Eugenia. I meant as it pertains to the child. Do you require funds? Is Worthing demanding you be sent away? Tell me what you need for the babe. That is all I can offer you.”
“You cannot mean that.” Eugenia wrapped her other arm around his neck and clung to him like an ivy vine. “She can’t possibly give you what I can, my darling.”
He shrugged her off him, no easy feat given her tenacity.
“I do mean that, madam,” he snapped. “I will do my duty to the child upon its birth, but I have no wish to be involved with you or any woman other than my wife.”
“No,” Eugenia cried out, desperation in her eyes, in her voice. “Please, darling. Remember what it was like between us, how good it was. We can go away to be together. We don’t need to stay here. We’ll leave London behind, go to the Continent, forget all about Worthing and that dreadful governess. I know you don’t truly love her any more than I love my husband.”
Her determination to hear only what she wished was suffocating. Torrie spun away from her, stalking across the chamber. But Eugenia followed, dropping to her knees before him and reaching for the fall of his trousers.
“Let me suck you,” she said, fumbling with the buttons. “I’ll remind you of how good it was for us. How good it will be again.”
He caught her hand in an iron grip, attempting to keep her from mauling his person without hurting her. In that same terrible moment, as his former mistress was begging him to let her suck his cock, the door to Torrie’s study flew open.
There, on the threshold, face stricken and pale, stood Bess.
She gasped, the sound so laden with pain that it was like a blade slicing into him.
“Bess,” he said, disentangling himself from Eugenia, who was still on her knees on the Aubusson. “Please, I can explain.”
