She’d ruined everything though, and in that moment, the possibility of her contemporaries laughing at her, ladies such as Rachel Somerset or the Mossant sisters gloating, sent panic sweeping through her soul.
“No duke will marry me now—or a marquess, earl, or viscount for that matter.” The truth crashed over her.
“For God’s sake, Tabetha, you consented to an elopement. What did you expect?” He allowed her no sympathy whatsoever. “You’ll be grateful to marry at all, now. And to be perfectly honest, you’ll likely be happier for it.”
He was a brute to dismiss her dreams so casually. And his callousness didn’t only outrage her, but it… hurt. His kindness of the night before had been nothing more than an aberration.
She pinched her lips together. She would not cry.
He’d never taken her seriously. He hadn’t cared about her feelings. He’d only been fulfilling his promise to her brother.
Archie pushed out of her arms, leaping to the floor and smartly removing himself from the vicinity of her temper, which was only moments away from erupting.
The little traitor.
Ignoring her protesting head and stomach, she threw the covers aside and burst out of the bed, reaching for the lovely night rail draped over the screen and quickly covering herself.
She stuffed her arms into the sleeves, feeling raw, indignant, and vulnerable.
And hurt, drat him.
“You’re a beast! You don’t know anything about what I need or what will make me happy! How could you,MisterSpencer, excuse me,MisterChester?”
Stone rolled over to face her, raising his arms and clasping his hands behind his neck. The tufts of hair under his arms looked soft in comparison to the sinewy muscles everywhere else. Why on earth should she notice something like that?
She forced her gaze up to his face, and seeing that his eye looked worse than it had the day before pierced her with a pang of guilt.
His hair was adorably mussed, and she almost forgot that she was angry with him.
Until he spoke.
“That’s right. Keeping you safe from an irate duke just isn’t the same as keeping you happy. My sincere apologies,My Lady.” The inflection he put on those last two words did not go unnoticed by her.
Things were not supposed to have gone this way! Didn’t he understand what she’d done? Why did he have to mock the things that were important to her?
Everything had gone horribly wrong, and he was the only person she could complain to. And wanting comfort from him didn’t make sense but…
“Argh!” She stomped her foot and then immediately regretted it when the pain in her head exploded. Wheeling around, she caught hold of the edge of the bureau, head bowed, doing her best to not burst into tears. “I’ve ruined everything!”
“What’s done is done.”
She sighed and slowly opened her eyes.
What’s done is done.Undoing what she’d done would be near impossible.
She stared unseeing but then focused on the grain of wood on the bureau. A single hairclip. The brush she’d purchased…
And a smudged but official-looking piece of parchment.
An ornate box framed the document, the top line readingKingdom of Scotland. It was some sort of certificate. A certificate? She blinked, not quite believing her eyes.
County of Dumfries. Parish of Gretna.
These are to certify to all whom they may concern that Hedwig Buckley Spencer from the parish of…
“Who is Hedwig Buckley Spencer?” She frowned as she recognized her own signature. “What is this?”
“Where did you hear that name?” He eyed her suspiciously from where he was now sitting on the edge of the bed.
