“Just because we made love does not give you the right to make decisions for me,” she continued in cold, remote tones. “Tonight just proves an affair is not possible between us. I will not give up my independence. I will not let another man control my future or my happiness ever again. Marriage is out of the question, and whatever we had…it ends now.”
Another man might have heard that Siberian speech and hightailed out of there for fear of catching frostbite. Yet now that Wick had tamed his jealousy, his brain was working in full force. What most people didn’t understand was that the key to negotiating wasn’t talking.
It was listening.
And what he heard from Beatrice…was pain.
“What other man?” he asked quietly.
She blinked. “Pardon?”
“You said you wouldn’t letanotherman control you again. Who did it before?”
Her throat worked. “I don’t…it’s none of your—”
“Last night, you were hotter than fire in my arms. Now you’re cold as ice. I didn’t take you for a woman who played games,” he said deliberately.
He knew his strategy to appeal to her sense of fairness succeeded when her shoulders stiffened in their frame of blue taffeta.
“I’m not playing games. It’s just that I’ve had a chance to think about us—”
“And you’re comparing me to some man in your past. Allow me the courtesy of knowing who my rival is.”
“He’snotyour rival.” Her gaze darted; she had a hunted look.
Instinct told him not to back down. “Who is he?”
“If you must know, I was once engaged. After my accident,”—her voice wavered, but she kept her chin up—“the engagement ended.”
And Wick remembered last night when he’d asked her if she really believed a scar could change a man’s attraction to her. Shedidbelieve it…because of some bloody fool.
“Who ended it?” he asked.
“I did. But only after…” She bit her lip. “After I overheard him and my best friend at the time. The two of them were talking in the garden about how I’d become…Lady Beastly.”
* * *
Bea had told one person about the scene with Croydon and Arabella. Her brother’s reaction had guaranteed that she would never repeat that mistake. She hadn’t even confided in Fancy about what had happened: it was too humiliating.
But Wickham had a way of seeing through her masks. Of tearing them away.
Seeing the harsh set of his features in the moonlight, she felt the raw pain of a scab being ripped off. Did he finally see her as others did? Was he realizing that he, Prince Charming, had no business being with Lady Beastly?
She braced herself for his response.
“Are you in love with him?” he bit out.
It took her a moment to comprehend what he was asking.Thatwas why he looked angry? Because he thought she might be carrying the torch for Croydon?
“No,” she blurted. “That is, I fancied myself in love with him at one time. But hearing what he and Ara—my friend said in the garden cured me of that foolishness.”
“Good,” Wick said gruffly. “The spineless cad doesn’t deserve your love. I would call him out—if you wanted me to.”
He would call Croydon out for me? More importantly, he would give me the choice?
Warmth flooded her chest, thawing the icy dread.
“But perhaps your papa already had his satisfaction?” he asked.
