Page 77 of The Lady’s Sweet Revenge

Some time, hours later as she was drifting off to sleep, she remembered something he’d said before he left. About how she had betrayed someone who loved her.

He loved her.

He’d surely not meant to admit such a thing when he was so angry, but the fact that he did, meant it was true.

He loved her.

And she loved him. She didn’t know what could possibly come between them, but she realized she very much wanted to know. Which meant she needed to find a way to fix everything.

*

Instead of going back to his rooms, Reese had fled downstairs to his study where he kept the whisky. One dram led to the next and the next until he was rambling to the empty room like a mad man.

After spending a good bit of time accusing Harlow of duplicity and considering just when she’d begun her ruse.

“Mayhap she was never even aboard Merrick’s ship. She may have just walked up the beach from another property and staged the whole thing. The strained ankle so I would have to carry her.” He made a hmmph at that thought. “How had she known to mention Merrick’s name? Or the Zephyr? Unless she is an agent.”

He stood to pace but sat back down when he realized walking about was beyond him at the moment. Did he really believe everything between them had been false?

The way she liked Stonecliff novels was a bit too perfect as well. Wouldn’t Belle have been able to detect deceit? Unless Belle wasn’t Belle but another dog switched out with his loyal beast.

His thoughts were becoming more and more delusional by the moment. A fake dog?

And then he had to face the other facts he’d been careful not to consider before, for they were the most painful. Could she have been faking everything that had happened between them in bed?

When she’d looked up at him, trusting and open, had it all been part of her tricks to trap him?

He imagined she’d succeeded, for he had ruined her and he was a gentleman. Tomorrow, he would offer marriage, because it was expected of him. And while he would offer up his title, he wouldn’t offer up his heart. Never again.

The next thought he had was why his staff was still working on those bloody stairs. Hadn’t they finished them the day before? But now here they were banging about again when his head was a mess.

After some time, he eventually opened his eyes to find it was late in the morning. He could only be grateful for the clouds and drizzle that kept the sun from scalding his eyes with its brightness. He rubbed his neck, twisting it from side to side in an effort to get rid of the ache from falling asleep at his desk. He then realized the banging wasn’t coming from outside but at the door.

“Enter,” he yelled, much too loud for his aching head.

Finch came in looking sharp and clean as ever. He frowned at Reese’s opposite state.

“A Mr. Calloway has arrived, my lord. I’ve seated him in the library and asked Mrs. Garrison to bring refreshments. I will ask her to see to some coffee for you first, my lord.”

“Good,” Reese said, thought he hadn’t caught up to what he was agreeing to yet. His mind seemed a few steps behind this morning.

Mrs. Garrison bustled in with a tray.

“I’ve brought you coffee and a bit of dry toast to help with your stomach.”

The fact that his staff knew exactly how to handle his hard mornings proved he’d had too many of them. He couldn’t help but think this time it was warranted, however. It wasn’t every day that a man found out the woman he loved had betrayed him.

He stopped with the cup raised halfway to his lips.

Good God. Had he said those words last night? He’d admitted that he loved her without realizing it. She must have been ecstatic with the news she had lured him into her trap.

“If there’s nothing else, I must see to Lady Harlow. The lass is having an ill morning as well. She says her puffy eyes are from the gardens, but I’ve seen the effects of spending the night in tears. I’m guessing she’s missing her family. Poor girl.”

Harlow had been crying? She’d not spent the night rejoicing for having won the game?

Perhaps there was no game at all? Mayhap he was wrong about everything. If the vase had truly been an accident…

“Bloody hell,” he whispered.