“This! You court me, you’re attracted to me, you fall in love with me… while you’re having an affair with Portia behind my back! In the stables of the polo club, at the Davenports’, even here in your study!”
“I don’t want Portia and I will never do.”
“Go tell someone who feels like believing you.”
“I can’t be more honest than this!”
“It’s not the first time. I saw you, as I saw you at the dance party on the terrace! She was all over you, as if her life depended on it.”
“She had a sprained ankle!”
“You’re pathetic, you can’t even make up decent excuses! I saw you, and my blood dried up in my veins. I fainted, and you were there next to me when I woke up, so I thought it was just a trick of my imagination, but what I saw today confirms that I didn’t invent anything.”
“Jemma, are you looking for an excuse to end it? Because there’s no need to.”
“Oh, I have no doubt you would be delighted to be free again with a queue of women drooling over you! I won’t stay here cramping your style!”
“And you can’t wait to go back to London to go clubbing and show off, can you?”
“I’m not one of those blind, deaf and mute dummies that you high up people are used to having as your wives. I have a shred of self-esteem left, and I won’t let you take it away from me.”
“You’re free not to believe me. I know that you are only interested in your own opinion. You’re as stubborn and uncontrollable as you’ve always been! Getting cleaned up and watching some movie with Keira Knightley in it did not change your bad temper!”
“You know what I think? That this train was destined to stop.” I take off my wedding ring and throw it across the room. “I’ll pack my bags now, I won’t stay here one more minute to let an arrogant and unfaithful liar like you make a fool of me. My life has never sucked as much as it did in these last months with you.”
“Well, do some soul searching, young lady! Living with you would turn the most reasonable man into a basket case! Ask yourself why everyone cheated on you in the past. Marrying a duke is the best thing that has ever happened to you! You’ve experienced more fidelity in six months than in your whole life.”
“You’re not a duke. You’re a bastard.”
“Want to insult me, after the slander you’ve made up so far? Be my guest! God knows I’m enough of a gentleman to take it.”
“Then be a gentleman and get out of my room.”
“This ismymanor, so this ismyroom, and I’ll stay here as long as I want, whether you’re here or not.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t be here for long,” I growl.
“Good.”
“Good.”
“I’m off now, but not because you told me to. I have better things to do.”
He slams the door behind him and, for a split second, I wish I could take it all back.
I can’t stay here any longer.
I go to the wardrobe to empty all the shelves and racks; I take dresses, trousers, shirts and God knows what else, because the tears in my eyes prevent me from seeing what I’m doing.
82
Ashford’s Version
My hands are shaking with anger, I swear. I’m pissed off with Jemma, because she won’t let me explain; she has already passed judgment and I haven’t even had a chance to defend myself.
I’m pissed off with Portia, because it’s clear that, by behaving in that way, she hoped that Jemma and I would split up. She’s a cold and calculating bitch, and I should have known that she had a plan up her sleeve. She’s got no respect for anyone or anything, even herself.
And, finally, I’m pissed off with myself because, as much as I can justify my actions, I’m a dickhead.
