“It would almost seem that you delight in the notion of word reaching me in the countryside.”
He gave her an indolent shrug. “I wouldn’t say I thought about you at all, my dear.”
The bitter sarcasm lacing his voice held all the pent-up fury of a slap.
She clutched her skirts harder, her knuckles aching beneath the strain. “It is a wonder, Your Grace, that you would even deign to touch me, considering you hold me in such unenviably low regard.”
“I don’t hold you in any regard at all. Tell me, why did you interrupt my swimming? I’ve grown bored of this tired argument.”
His words shouldn’t sting. He shouldn’t have the power to hurt her. And yet, Sybil couldn’t keep from being affected by his icy indifference.
“Because I want you to reconsider.”
“That isn’t going to happen.”
His stubborn, impassive insistence was maddening. He wasn’t even contemplating her argument.
“Why not?”
“Because as I said, I have neither the time nor the inclination to court another bride. I’ve done that folderol already, and I’m not about to endure it all a second time.”
“I don’t want to be married to you,” she bit out. “Does that not signify?”
He laughed, the sound bitter. “Of course it doesn’t, madam. The matter is decidedly settled, is it not?”
Sybil longed to shout with fury. Why did he insist upon being so stubborn and unfeeling? Could he not see what a misery they made together? How had she ever hoped that theirs could one day turn into a love match? Moreover, how had she ever believed herself in love with him? She ought to have known happiness was impossible, having watched her own mother’s plight. Having watched Henry pay the price for his mother’s and father’s sins.
Clearly, she had been a fool of the worst sort. But she would rectify her naïveté. Riverdale had dashed it to bits and shown her the truth of the world. There was neither hope nor love. There was only escape if one wanted happiness. And she wanted it. Happiness had been close enough so fleetingly that she had once tasted it.
Sybil would be damned if she would fall into the same prison in which her mother had become inextricably trapped.
“No,” she insisted now, “it’s not.”
He yawned. “Again, if you don’t mind, madam, this conversation grows tedious, and I’m getting cold.”
Without awaiting her response, he slid back into the water with an undignified splash. He remained beneath the surface for so long that she found herself moving nearer to the edge of the pool, fearing he had somehow hit his head or done himself other injury.
But the flurry of movement beneath the surface quickly proved her wrong. He was swimming under the water again. Ignoring her. Unmoved by her every argument and plea.
Fine.
If he intended to continue swimming as if she weren’t standing here attempting to have a polite, reasonable discourse with him regarding the state of their marriage, then she would simply wait for him to finish.
Damn the woman.
Everett could say a great deal about her, none of which was particularly complimentary. But he did have to admit that she possessed an unnatural amount of tenacity.
She was waiting for him.
Instead of returning to the house party as he had hoped she would do upon realizing he had no intention of changing his mind about granting her a divorce. Like a damned dog guarding her bone. She was relentless.
But he remained unmoved.
If she wouldn’t go and leave him in peace, then he would simply join her in her game.
Finishing his final lap of swimming, Everett once again hauled himself onto the edge of the grotto pool. This time, however, he didn’t remain seated. He rose to a full standing position, more than aware he was naked and giving her an excellent view of his backside.
Let her look. Perhaps she could compare it to her lover’s, he thought acridly.
