“Rosina—”
“No, don’t say it!” She turned on him a fierce countenance. “You have no need to excuse yourself. I had guessed it, in any event. It was why I had looked for you, to ask you, so that I might know my fate for certain. Only my maid told me Kirkham had been troubled about you, and in my anxiety I forgot it.”
Raith made no attempt to approach her. He kept his tone low, but knew a thread of vibrant passion ran through it, despite his control. “You have a right to be wounded, Rosina. But you do not know the whole. There were reasons—”
“I know them,” she interrupted, a break in her voice. “Why do you suppose I am here? Do not imagine that I blame you, Anton.”
“You may not blame me, but you are wounded none the less.”
Rosina did not deny it, but she made no direct response. “It is immaterial. No one else will believe, any more than you did, that Forteviot and my guardian were lying.”
“Do you think I care any longer? Whatever may have been my feelings yesterday—”
“But I care, Anton.”
He was silenced. So wrapped up had he been in his own pride he had not considered Rosina’s emotions. She was right. People would believe what they wished to, and the least hint of the circumstances alone would be enough to damn her. He looked across at Ottery.
“I cannot have her pilloried. We have to stop him.”
“Undoubtedly,” agreed the lawyer, but his glance was on Rosina. Raith looked back at his wife, and found her eyes huge in the white face.
“Anton, I don’t care for that.”
“Don’t you?”
“I could bear it for myself, but I will not have you condemned for a chivalrous impulse.”
“It has nothing to do with chivalry. If I must care, it can only be on your behalf, Rosina. My concerns were purely selfish, I admit that. I have no interest in what the world may say.”
Rosina eyed him, her look wistful. “Could you ignore it, when there is not a soul who will receive your wife? The true facts of our marriage are bad enough. Lady Doddinghurst was quick to find flaws in Mr Ottery’s story.”
“It was poor at best,” admitted the lawyer.
“But it is better than the slightest whisper of what Lord Forteviot proposes to tell the world. Raith, you think you may withstand it, but I know your temperament. I cannot stay with you. It will poison your life.”
A constriction lodged in Raith’s chest. “Do you imagine people will talk any the less for your leaving me?”
Rosina looked away. “For a while, perhaps. But if I am not there to—”
“If you are not there, I had as well cut my own throat now! Rosy, this is pointless.” He crossed to the desk, throwing a wild hand at his lawyer. “Ottery, for God’s sake, help me!”
The lawyer rose up from his desk and came to lay a calming hand upon Raith’s shoulder. “You are too impatient, my lord. Allow Lady Raith at least the opportunity to give rein to the sensations driving her.” He gripped the shoulder he held. “I think you do not understand that her whole design is to spare you, sir. She has no thought of herself.”
Raith let go an uneven breath, and dropped to perch upon the desk. His eyes went to Rosina’s. “Then it makes even less sense that she should wish to end our marriage.”
“But I don’twishfor it!”
“Then—”
“My lord, leave it!” cut in the lawyer sharply.
Raith compressed his lips, and wrenched his eyes away from Rosina’s expressive countenance. Ottery was right. Small wonder she would not go apart with him, if he could not let her edge in a word without some forceful interruption. What had she said? That he had too much power over her? He glanced at her again, rueful now.
“Am I ever this overbearing?”
Her tiny smile gleamed on Rosina’s lips. “You are not easy to withstand, my lord.”
“But you have held out against me several times.”
