“He returned to London.” Now my frustration rose, my wife had no business concerning herself over the location of my brother.
“Why?”
“We discussed it and thought it was for the best. Why do you care where my brother is?” Rising, I rounded my desk to stand before her. Gaining the upper hand through height alone. She stood firm, not backing down in the slightest.
“Because he is supposed to be here! Wooing Juliet!”
“What? Lady Juliet is engaged. To Rosehill, or have you forgotten?”
“You sent him away!”
“Yes, I sent him away! Your friend is here under my protection, and I cannot have my brother seducing innocents in my home.”
“He wasn’t seducing her! They were falling in love!”
“They were doing a great deal more than falling in love! And she is engaged! To another man.”
“She doesn’t love Rosehill!”
“What has that to do with anything?”
“She was supposed to have love. No one deserves it more. And you destroyed it! You destroy everything!” The words were ripped from her throat, harsh and unyielding. She stepped forward with that attack, bringing us closer. Not near enough to touch, but her head tipped back to maintain eye contact.
“Excuse me?”
“If I couldn’t have love at least she would have! And you just took it from her. Just like you took it from me.”What the devil—?
“I took love from you? Are you referring to this marriage that you masterminded?”
“Me? You think I wanted this?”
“Of course you did!”
“Did your mother convince you of that? Because it would not be the first time she was wrong, I can assure you of that. If you were the only man in the world, I would not have chosen you! You think I wanted to marry a man who hates everything about me?”
“What?”
She affected a masculine voice, her tone mocking. “You may want a tumble, but I could not stand it. The girl is too much. Too bold and loud. With bad teeth and massive lips and eyes and her body is simply too much. Everything about her is abhorrent.” Something about the speech rang as familiar, but the memory remained out of reach.
“What are you talking about?”
“You said it! You said it about me. All those gentlemen were talking about me, saying licentious things. But you, you could not consign yourself to insinuations and jives. You had to destroy everything about my appearance! About my very being! And to eligible gentlemen, no less. It wasn’t enough that you didn’t want me. You had to ensure no one else ever would either. I was trapped in that closet trying to get away from you! And look where that landed me. Married to a man who hates everything about me. A man who insists on ruining, not only my happiness, but that of my dearest friend. And you think I wanted this?”
“No woman in the world could possibly take one look at Lord Grayson’s handsome countenance and title and find you wanting? It’s no matter how you treat her? She will be happy with whatever scraps you deign to give her? Is that it? Because you, my lord, are not the catch that you think you are. You are heartless, and you are spineless. And I deserved more.” She seemed to deflate with the end of her speech, curling in on herself. Eyes widening with something akin to shock as though she could not believe that she said it.
I, on the other hand, was numb.
My life was a lie. And I was a monster.
All this time… She hated me. She didn’t say the words of course, but I had never been more certain of anything else in my life. My wife loathed me.
A thousand moments rushed past; memories I had read as instances of quiet contentment, grown from our inauspicious start. And she was miserable.
Now her face was flushed, a burning red, and her eyes were impossibly wide. Beneath her nightrail, her chest heaved, panting with the effort of her exertions, lips parted slightly. In other circumstances, I would find the vision stunningly beautiful. But she was smaller now, somehow, as if her bottled rage was all that kept her upright, and that shrinking spoiled the effect.
It reminded me that I had ruined her life.
I remembered the speech now, the unkind drunken words designed to earn the approval of men no more worthy of the title of gentleman than me. All this time, she thought—. The exact words refused to return to me, but her version of it was surely accurate, or close to it.
