Page 40 of The Madame Catches Her Duke

“Your mother is blameless in all things, yet, it is only she who will be hurt.” Untrue, her mind screamed. Marce would not escape their arrangement unscathed, either. He stroked a need within her she’d been oblivious to before. Knowing the pain Rowan had endured in his childhood made it worse. Marce at least had her siblings, while Rowan was alone in his grief and sorrow. “What happened between Julian and my mother did not occur because of me, you, or your mother. Yet, you cast the blame on me for something I had no control over, just as you had no control over the way your father abandoned your mother.”

“But here we are.” The sarcastic bite of his words had her flinching.

“Yes, Rowan, here we are.” She started toward her door once more. “I must pack and be on my way if I hope to make it home—err, to London—before nightfall. As I stated, I will only take with me the things of a personal nature and will be gone from Craven House within a week’s time.” She paused, her hand on the latch to her door as she swung her stare toward Rowan. “That is unless you ban me from entering Craven House altogether.”

“Of course, I will not ban you from your home.”

“It is only a house. It is no longer my home.”

“But where shall you go?”

She ignored the softening of his tone.

“That is no longer your concern, Your Grace,” she hissed. “My family’s debt to you has been met. My whereabouts are my business alone.”

“Then there is naught left to discuss.” His boots clipped together and he issued a curt bow in her direction. “I will summon your carriage immediately.”

He pivoted on the heels of his Hessians and stalked off toward the grand staircase, shouting for Pelton, the butler, to attend him in the study.

She let out a ragged breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and slipped into her room to collect her belongings.

It was done. Over. A new day would dawn tomorrow, full of grand possibilities.

Why then did Marce feel more lost than ever before?

Chapter 18

“Have you lost what little sense you previously possessed?” Tobias growled, slamming his hand on the mantel above the hearth in the Cresthaven study. “I cannot imagine your mother will allow you to live long after she discovers her son made such lurid remarks—to a lady, no less. Do you think word will not get back to her?”

Rowan did not so much as flinch at his friend’s unusual outburst. Slouching lower in the overstuffed chair he preferred when visiting Tobias at his home, he swirled the amber liquid in his tumbler. There was nothing that could further impact his mood, either for the positive or the negative.

There was no denying that Rowan was an utter scoundrel. A blackguard. The least worthy of the title gentleman.

Since Marce’s departure, he had told himself at least that much.

For the last several days, his servants ignored him, and Pearl outright gave him the cut direct.

And worst of all, his mother continued in her contented ways, not knowing the fatal blow her heart would soon take when she learned of the duplicitous nature of those around her.

He was as alone as he’d ever been. Even coming to Tobias and admitting what he’d said and done had taken much from Rowan, especially when he’d openly accused Marce of dallying with Tobias behind Rowan’s back. Tobias was his friend, but in this moment, the earl was far more loyal to Marce. It was to be expected. Rowan actually believed she deserved Tobias’s friendship more than he did.

He sipped from his glass, stopping himself from draining the spirits and requesting another. Drinking was not likely to solve any of his problems. Of that, he was sure.

Why he’d thought Tobias would lend an ear without chastising him was still a mystery. Is that not what true friends did? Chastise you when you did something reckless and foolish?

“Mayhap I should return to Hadlow and tell my mother the truth,” Rowan mused before bringing his lips to the rim of his glass once more and—throwing caution to the wind—draining it. “At least then I can depart for Scotland. When I return in a few months, her anger should have subsided.”

“You think it is anger she will feel?” Tobias scoffed. “You have larger issues to contend with than I thought, Ro.”

“I was surprised Marce requested a coach back to London and didn’t flee to Cresthaven immediately after our argument.” Rowan set his empty tumbler on the table beside him, focusing his sightless stare on the flames in the hearth.

“Why in heavens would Marce come here?”

“Because the two of you are involved.” He propped his elbow on the arm of the chair, his chin falling to rest on his open palm. “I know it was preposterous of me to take offense that you found comfort with her. Even if the affair was behind my back.”

“Are you hearing the words coming out of your mouth, or are you spouting nonsense just to hear your voice?” Tobias snatched Rowan’s glass from the table and refilled it, returning it to his elbow.

“It is fine, Tobias. Marce did not deny my accusations when I confronted her with them.”