“The idea of happiness had never entered my mind. My marriage was a transaction.” Transaction. The perfect word to cover a multitude of sins against Rachel. Against himself.
“A transaction?”
She draped her hand over his. He stared as if his hand was disembodied. What did one do with sympathy? He had no idea.
“Then as now, I mixed infrequently with Society. Few would have wed a recluse, fewer still, the son of a man tried for murder.”
She made no sound, but he knew the information had come as a shock. He knew because her fingers had lifted from his.
Forsaken, if only for a half second. The ache was beyond belief.
“Did your father commit murder?”
“The court found him innocent.” He’d only acknowledged the truth to Hurtheven. Even Cheverley had never asked. But he could not withhold anything from Lady Stone. “And the answer is yes.”
She rolled toward him.Towardhim, not away. She reached up to cup his cheek. “How awful for you.”
He kept his gaze blank. If she saw the riot in his mind, she’d run from the room in horror.
“I was born to privilege,” he said. “I have freedoms and honors others do not have. I do not dwell in self-pity.” Only in solitude.
And that, to keep others safe.
He thrashed about for an alternate question, one what could send Lady Stone out of treacherous waters. “Do you hate him—the admiral?”
Her hand stilled against his cheek. She blinked, and then calmly answered, “No.”
Astonishing. “Why?”
“Octavius was honorable,” she withdrew her hand.
Even after all the admiral had done, Lady Stone’s voice held unmistakable admiration.
Lady Stone may not have hated the admiral, but Ash did.
“Honorable and adulterous,” he said, “a tricky feat, indeed.”
She frowned. “People are rarely one thing or another. The only time Octavius broke his word was in his marriage vow. Whose concern is that but mine? I am not sure, to be completely honest, it was entirely his fault.”
“Do you blame yourself for his inconstancy?”
“No,” she answered. “But if he were happy, he would not have fallen in love.”
He raised his brows. “Have you seen the countess?”
“Of course, I have seen the countess,” she said. “I take it you do not read the scandal sheets.”
He had, though he’d been searching for descriptions of Lady Stone; nothing else had mattered. But he would have remembered mention of the ensuing scandal, if the admiral’s mistress and his wife had met.
“Did you meet accidentally?”
Her bitter laugh chilled. “We did not justmeet. We three attended the theater, where she occupied his right, and I his left. We arrived together to soirees.” Her voice dropped. “She played hostess in my home, before I moved out and she moved in.”
Some things, apparently, were too scandalous for even the scandal pages.
His look of horror was genuine. “Terrible.”
“For me, yes,” she tilted her head, “and for her, too, I think.” She held him with a steady gaze. “The countess has great charm and sensibility. She is nearly impossible to dislike.”
