Her brows drew together. “I don’t understand.”
The look of relief mixed with the confusion on her face served to steel his resolve.
He crossed his arms over his chest and regarded her down the length of his nose. “My dear, you have what youthinkyou wanted. A husband. A name. Money. A reason to stay in London and not have to go to the Continent. But I refuse to give you what youreallywant.”
Confusion flitted across her features. “What I really want?”
“Children. A family. You told me once that you wanted those things.”
She nodded. “I do.”
“I have no intention of giving them to you.” He forced a humorless smile to his lips.
She expelled her breath in a heated rush. “What are you talking about? You need an heir.”
“The only thing that will make forgoing an heir palatable to me is knowing thatyou’renot going to get what you want. I can leave the estate and the title to Sarah and Berkeley’s children.”
A hint of anger flashed across her face. “You cannot be serious.”
He turned on his heel to walk away. “I’ve never been more serious.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The next morning at precisely half past ten, the Duchess of Claringdon’s coach pulled to a stop in front of Meg’s new home. Meg had spent the better part of the morning hiding in her room. Wedding gifts and congratulatory notes poured through the front door. Apparently everyone in thetonwas eager to wish the new Lord and Lady Highgate well.
Knowing Hart was locked in his study, Meg had ventured downstairs to walk past the tables full of gifts when she’d spotted a lovely bouquet of white azaleas. The accompanying note was from Sir Winford. The knight wished her well on her marriage and congratulated her lucky groom, wishing them both a lifetime of health and happiness.Thathad sent her straight to her room in tears.
She’d been hiding in her bedchamber contemplating the rubbish heap she’d made of her life when one of the maids tentatively knocked and informed her that Harthad gone out to the club. Meg wiped away her tears and decided to venture forth to explore her new home. The housekeeper, Mrs. Grintley, was still proudly showing her around when the duchess arrived along with Sarah, Cass, and Jane. Lucy was crafty, Meg had to admit. If she’d come alone, Meg would have refused her, but bringing the other ladies guaranteed her admittance. Why had Sarah agreed to come with her, though?
Meg received them in the light blue drawing room. It was the first time she’d been in the room. It was lovely in its subtle blues and white. The entire house was lovely. Much grander than anything she’d ever imagined living in. A far cry from the shabbiness her father’s town house had become. She didn’t deserve to live here.
As soon as the butler left the ladies alone together, Meg turned to Lucy. “You have a great deal of nerve showing your face here, Your Grace.”
Sarah interjected. “Please, Meggie, hear her out.”
“What can she possibly say that will make this better?” Meg glared at Sarah.
“That was my point, but no one listened to me, did they?” Jane pushed up her spectacles and glanced around at the others accusingly. “However, I was told there would be teacake.” She looked anxiously toward Meg.
Remembering her manners, Meg rang for tea (and cake) before settling back to glare at Lucy. To her credit, Lucy did look sufficiently chagrined.
“Where is Hart?” Sarah asked.
“He went to the club,” Meg replied.
“And did you… have a pleasant evening?” Sarah asked, her voice tentative.
“My husband hates me, what do you think?” Meg kept her arms crossed over her chest.
“May I speak now, pleeeease?” Lucy clasped her hands together in front of her and stared at Sarah.
“Very well.” Sarah nodded stiffly. “Go ahead.”
“You managed to keep her from speaking?” Meg asked, blinking.
“It was a condition of my coming with her,” Sarah replied.
“Really?” Meg asked. “What were the other conditions?”
