Page 38 of The Duke’s Rejected Mate

“Saw that, did you? And you saw the bastard who affixed his signature to it?”

“I did. It doesn’t make it any less damning.”

“Unless you’ve come to lecture me again, I suggest you get home to your wife. I’m sure she’ll worry as to your whereabouts.”

“It’s not a lecture, brother. But a warning. Our sisters are next to wed. Do not ruin their prospects because someone else has what you now want.”

Blood drains from my face as I glare at my brother. The impertinence. As if this is some new fixation, a lark I choose to play.

“Get out. I will not ask you again.”

“You don’t have to. Careful, brother. London has eyes and ears in the most unobtrusive places.”

The moment he leaves my study, I grip the desk as I sit there, mulling over his words. He’s right. As much as I loathe to admit it, he’s right. That won’t stop me though. Nothing short of pistols at dawn will keep me from my obsession wrapped in peony.

Chapter 17

Cynthia

Wednesday

Gone again. But then, it’s what I’ve come to expect. The moment my eyes open, I know he’ll not be there. This time, there isn’t even a slight indent where he rested with me.

Groaning, I slide my hand down to caress my swollen backside. If anything, I find I can face the day with less trepidation now that I have something else to occupy my time. But first, I need to tidy myself, so the maid doesn’t see the damage.

I walk over to the mirror and pull up my shift, staring at the mottled marks on my skin. Reds, purples, blues, and yellows all crisscross in a pattern that has no real definition. Such pretty colors on such a pale canvas.

The water is cold in the basin as I cleanse my skin, waking me up a bit more. By the time I have a clean shift on, the maid comes in with my morning chocolate.

“Why, Miss Campbell. What’s this? How are you so prepared? Was I tardy in my duties?”

“Nothing of the sort. I find that I want to take a turn about in the garden. Will you help dress me so I can step outside for some air?”

“Certainly, Miss.”

I take a swig of the warmed chocolate and let it heat my insides as the maid prepares my dress. In no time at all, I traipse down the stairs and head out the back door.

Here, I can think. Here, I can breathe.

The stone bench looks enticing until I sit down and feel every pebble that went into making it dig into my backside. Despite the pain shooting through my body, I can’t help but laugh.

Tipping my head back, I let it bubble out of me, pouring forth in a near-hysterical sound as it just keeps coming out. Knowing Henhaven, he’d be able to name each little stone just by studying the indents in my skin.

“Care to share what has you laughing so, Miss Campbell?” Glancing up at the door, I spot Charles walking out as a maid follows to keep propriety.

“I fear if I tell you, it might make you most discomfited.”

“Try me. I can assure you, I’ve heard a great many things.”

“I merely sat here for a moment and felt the rocks upon my skin. My first thought was I’m sure Henhaven would be able to tell exactly which one leaves a mark on my body and where its origin lies.”

I brace for a moment, worried I’ve upset him, but soon, he too tips his head back and lets out a bark of laughter. It’s dark and husky, deep and unused. Why, I’m not sure I even need a second hand for the number of times I’ve heard him laugh.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” another voice interjects.

A gasp flies from my lips as I look up to see his brother, Lewis Barrington, Duke of Whiteport, joins us with Anne, his wife, in tow. “It must have been a great lark indeed to have my brother take leave of his senses and allow such a braying to issue forth from his lips.”

“More to the point,” Charles replies, his tone dry, “what has you here at Mother’s so early?”