All was not lost if she could feel like this, his arms around her and his mouth so close to hers, inside hers. There was hope, so long as there could be pleasure like this.
Not hope, perhaps, that he could love her, but hope that at least she could come to be happy with this intimacy and no more.
It was the next morning when disaster fell. As always, when Maxwell read the newspaper, Thalia took the scandal sheets for herself, scanning them for any juicy gossip that might finally supersede her marriage with Maxwell.
What she saw, however, made her stomach drop.
Dear Reader,
It has come to our attention that the new Duchess of Marrowhurst, the very same who married the Duke in a rather abrupt marriage—and we are aflutter, wondering what brought such an event about after he had already neglected to marry her once—is none other than the famed Alessandro Rossi. All those who purchased the elusive Italian’s sculptures may wish to reconsider their boasting; you have been duped! Can one really expect a young lady of Quality to produce work worth the purchase?
Or are we to presume the lady in question is not indeed of Quality?
“Thalia?” Maxwell had put his newspaper down and was looking at her. After yesterday, things had not gone back to normal, but they were on their way to being bearable.
Or at least, they had been. Thalia couldn’t be certain he would weather this scandal as easily as he had weathered that of marrying her. Now he had not just married a woman he had—for all intents and purposes—scorned years ago; he was marrying a woman who masqueraded as a famous sculptor. Who had, indeed, deceived half of London into believing Alessandro Rossi existed.
“Thalia?” His voice was closer now, and when she looked up, room blurring, it was to see him standing right before her. “What’s the matter?”
Wordlessly, she handed him the scandal sheets. He would find out sooner or later, anyway. The question was, what would he do with her when he did? He didn’t love her; she had no doubt his biggest obligation was to his name and reputation.
“Someone sold me out,” she whispered as he read it once, then twice. “Someone must have sold me out. No one elseknew. I haven’t told a soul, and it would have been impossible—near impossible—for them to trace me.”
“Unless they saw you sculpting at Calloway’s studio,” Maxwell said, but his brows drew together, mouth turning down as he thought. “But even then?—”
“It’s hardly unusual for ladies to have lessons with him.”
“No, but perhaps…” He broke off, evidently coming to the inevitable conclusion that there was no easy way for someoneto discover the truth without tangible evidence. “Who do you suppose did it?”
“I don’t know.” She shook her head, more tears spilling free.
It couldn’t be Anna, and even if Simon had discovered her secret, she trusted him to be forgiving and understanding. Elliot would never betray her, but someone had.
Not Maxwell. Who did that leave?
Maxwell cursed and drew her into his arms, one hand on the back of her head. “I’m sorry. I know how important Rossi was for you.”
“Not Rossi, but sculpting. It’s…”
It was art. She put her entire life into her sculptures, her heart and her soul, and everything that she cared about. Sculpting was a part of her, and seeing people love her creations was one of the best joys she could ever have imagined.
All these opportunities had been open to Alessandro Rossi andnotLady Thalia. And not the Duchess of Marrowhurst. Duchesses did not debase themselves to such an extent.
Maxwell held her as she sobbed, and she knew then that no matter what he felt, she had passed the point of no return. Loving him had never been a choice; it had been an inevitability.
“I can go to the country today,” she said through her tears, her voice thick. “And hide away until it’s all over. And if you want, I can never come back. I know it must be embarrassing for you, but?—”
“Thalia.” He leaned back on his haunches and smoothed his thumbs under her eyes, wiping away her tears. “I knew you were Rossi before we ever married, and I proposed regardless. This was never a secret we could have kept forever. I knew it would be inevitable, even if I had not thought—” He glanced away, his jaw working. “I had not thought it would be so soon, but that doesn’t change reality. You are not going anywhere. We will face this together. That is what you told me we committed ourselves to when we married, and so that is what we will do.”
She blinked damp eyes, trying to focus on him through her blurring tears. “Do you mean it?”
“Of course, I mean it. In fact, I have a plan. We will hold the ball as planned, and we will show the world once and for all that we are united, and that I support your endeavors.” He leaned up and gave her a quick kiss. She tasted salt. “Do you trust me?”
Heaven help her, she did. She stared at him in wonder. How could it be that she had come to marry this wonderful man—and how could she ever have protected her heart against him?
“You always knew this would come out?” she asked blankly.
“Of course I did. It was inevitable.” He smiled a little as he looked up at her from where he knelt, as though amused at hernaivety. “Did you think it would be your secret from the world forever?”
