Fear, heartbreak…anger.
All day she’d been waiting to see her husband. Last night, when she’d recovered from her swoon, Adam had been passed out beside her on the sofa. Shaken by their animalistic coupling, she’d fled to her own bedchamber.
She’d needed time to think. To gather the courage to face her husband.
He’d been drunk: what washerexcuse for behaving like the veriest wanton?
Surely no proper lady would have allowed her husband to take such liberties in the study. Nor would they encourage him to do the things that Adam had done…with his mouth…downthere…
Heat scalded her cheeks. In all their years of marriage, he’dneverdone that. He was a proper gentleman; what had triggered him to act in so depraved a manner? Would he regret it in the morning? Sweet heavens, would he blame her for encouraging it?
Fretful, ashamed, and indecently aroused, she’d hidden in her bedchamber until she heard him leave for his offices. Finally, her growling belly had prompted her to ring for breakfast; debauchery apparently worked up one’s appetite. Nell had delivered the tray, along with the morning paper. As Gabby scanned the front page, the buttered toast had suddenly turned to sawdust in her mouth.
FIRE DESTROYS HOUSE OF ILL REPUTE.
The article had reported the gory details of a fiery explosion that had incinerated The Gilded Pearl, a brothel in Covent Garden, and claimed the lives of several dozen victims.
Someone important died. In a workplace fire.
Adam’s admission had echoed in her head. The coincidence was too great to be ignored. Had the person whom he had lost—and gotten drunk over—been…a whore?
All day Gabby had struggled with that abominable possibility. Even last night, her intuition had told her that something was wrong, that she ought to find out more about who had died, about why Adam was acting so strangely. Now Adam was here, and she had no choice but to confront him with her new suspicions.
You cannot sweep this into the Bin of Blissful Ignorance.Wide, dilated eyes stared back from the looking glass of her dressing table.You must find out the truth.
Inhaling, she rose and called, “Come in.”
Adam entered. He was his usual elegant self, his lean muscularity accentuated by his formal evening wear. A diamond stick pin glittered in the snowy folds of his cravat as he approached her.
“I came to bid you good night before heading to bed,” he said.
When he leaned in to kiss her cheek, she evaded him.
His head lifted, tilting slightly. “Is something the matter?”
Although his tone was neutral, she saw the wary glint in his eyes…as if he were bracing for trouble. Why would he feel that way, unless he was guilty of something?
The knots in her tightened. As calmly as she could, she lifted the newspaper from her vanity and handed it to him. Brows drawn, he took it. The moment he scanned the front page, she saw the flare of recognition, lines deepening around his mouth.
“There was a fire yesterday.” She couldn’t keep her voice from shaking. “A brothel called The Gilded Pearl burned down, killing dozens. But you already knew that…didn’t you?”
He tossed the paper onto a nearby table. “What, precisely, are you implying?”
“Did you visit that place?” she burst out. “That woman who died—whom you got drunk as a wheelbarrow over—was she someprostituteyou bedded?”
“Don’t be silly,” he said.
His clipped tone fueled her anger and fear. As did the fact that he didn’t deny that the person who died had been female.
“While I may admit to occasional bouts of silliness,” she said, “I amnotstupid. You tell me someone important to you dies in a workplace fire. The very next day, I learn that a dashedbrothelhas burned down. Answer my question, Adam: are you mourning a lightskirt?”
“I’m going to say this once. I have never been unfaithful to you, nor will I disrespect our marriage vows. Ever,” he said evenly.
Chest heaving, she stared at him. Oh, how shelongedto believe that he held their vows as sacred as she did. With a sharp pang, she realized that the root of her insecurity came from the fact that she loved her husband with every fiber of her being…a feeling that was not returned.
He told you from the start that he didn’t believe in love. You have no right to ask it of him now. Be content with his affection—with the safety and protection he’s given you.
“I have your word?” she asked, faltering.
