“Youhumiliatedme,” she repeated. “Where everyone might see. Does my reputation mean nothing to you?”
“And what of mine? Does it not suffer too?”
“You areimpossible.” Jaw set, she flounced from the room. And he, a glutton for punishment, followed. “People saw you with her, and theypitiedme. What do you suppose they thought? That you and Caroline were merely friends?” Herhands shook as she attempted to unfasten her earrings. “Youleftwith her.”
“I came straight home. Here, let me.” He caught her wrist, setting it aside as he applied himself to the task of removing her earrings, which had become caught in her curls.
“It doesn’tmatter. Don’t you understand? People will have seen the empty box, and I think we both know what conclusions they came to.”
“Does their opinion matter more than yours and mine?” He turned her by her slim shoulders so he might remove the other earring. Two rubies, glistening in his palms like drops of blood. He closed his fingers around them. “Be honest with me, Cecily.”
She stiffened even before she turned to face him. “Honesty is rarely redeemed in this marriage.”
“Is it not?” Gently, with the fingers of one hand, he tilted her face to his. “Then let me be honest first. I wasn’t sure you would even notice I was with Caroline tonight.”
Her pupils swelled, eating into the vibrant colour of her iris, even as she reared back, wrenching her chin from his hand. “Why? Because I have so little pride?”
Because she had never wanted him as a husband.
“Because I didn’t think you cared,” he said. “Now tell me something—is this to be the state of affairs for the rest of our lives? Are you going to deny me the companionship of others while denying me the same at home? Am I to return to an empty house every night because my wife has found more entertainment elsewhere, and wishes me to have no part in it?”
Her steps faltered as she crossed to her dressing table. “No husband acts as a constant escort to his wife. It’s unbecoming.”
“Few wives are so independent.”
“Untrue! Why, I know several ladies who—” With visible difficulty, she bit off the words. “Well, it hardly matters. What would you have change, Percy?”
It had been such a long time since she had last used his name that he could almost taste its sweetness in the air.
“Everything,” he said. He suddenly felt tired, the difference in age between them weighing him down. For the sake of his wellbeing, he could not continue to give her every part of himself and receive nothing in return.
“Everything?”
“We both know this isn’t working.”
“Oh, so now you agree that our marriage is a poor one?” She placed her hands on her hips, almost incandescent in her fury. Once, perhaps, she could have been a warrior queen. “I wish you’d made that decision before deciding behind my back that I would be better matched with you than anyone else.”
He knew what she meant; better than with William Devereaux. For years, she’d persisted in the delusion that his flirtation with her had been headed towards marriage, not something entirely more ruinous. And for years, Percy had attempted to preserve her feelings, knowing that if he spoke out against the gentleman she had settled her heart on, she would not take it well.
He dropped her earrings on the dressing table. “Then we both agree things cannot continue as they are. You barely tolerate my presence, and I’m exhausted of always being the one trying to make it right. Yes, I accepted your parents’ proposal when they offered it. I thought I could bring you to love me with time and patience. Now, I see I was mistaken.” He met her gaze. “AmI mistaken, Cecily?”
She swallowed, but she gave no answer. That was answer enough.
“I see.” With some difficulty, he kept the hurt from his voice. “So, then, let us change our arrangement.”
“How?”
“You do not want a husband; by law, I cannot change that, but in actions I will. If my presence offends you, then I will lodge elsewhere. And when you retire to the country at the end of the Season, I will not join you.”
She was utterly motionless. Shadows crept over her, casting her into darkness. If he could turn back time, he would free her from this abominable thing they called a life together. As he could not, he would do the next best thing.
“Where will you live?” she asked.
“I will arrange for my things to be packed up and redirected to my lodgings in Town.”
“That—” She drew in a breath, the column of her neck tensing with the movement. “That won’t be necessary. People will talk.”
“Let them.”
