AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Would you like me to see him first, my dear?” her mother asked with a smile, her eyes sparkling her happiness.
Pippa had reached home this morning, only a few minutes before her mother, and right before the breaking dawn. Everyone had just gotten a few hours' sleep before they had risen to break their fast. While they had eaten, she had told her mother of the duke's intention. How mamma had stuttered when Pippa had informed her of the duke’s promise to pay a visit. Her mother had announced Pippa’s expectation to the countess, and Lady Leighton had seemed quite shocked by the news. Miranda had not been down to breakfast, and Pippa was glad, for she would like to speak to her privately before any sort of public announcement was made.
“Pippa dearest, you are woolgathering.”
“I would speak with him alone, mamma, just a few words. You can leave the door open,” she said, vexed that a blush was rising to her face. For with every delightfully wicked thing he had done to her a few hours ago, leaving a door open seemed beyond silly.
She needed to reassure herself this was still all real. Her mother understood for she said, “I will check on tea.”
Then she departed. A minute later the duke was escorted inside. Pippa stood and smiled. He was dashingly handsome and quite commanding in his bearing. There was an air of indifference around him. His lips were flat and unsmiling, and no warmth showed in his eyes. "Christopher…?"
Every instinct she possessed warned her that something was wrong—or about to go terribly wrong. A heavy feeling settled against her heart. “Is…is everything well?” Did he regret his hasty words last night? Had his family objected as she anticipated?
The eyes that peered at her were chillingly distant. “Miss Cavanaugh, have you seen this?” he asked with icy civility.
She stared at him helplessly. Miss Cavanaugh? The lover who had taken her last night with such burning passion no longer existed. This man was a stranger. And Pippa was inordinately glad her mother was not present to witness her humiliation. “What is it?” she asked, clearing the hoarseness from her throat.
“Is this truly the manner of man you believe me to be?” he asked gently, placing the newssheet onto the small table before her. "A creature who's given over to every form of vice?"
“What? Of course not. Why would you think such a thing?”
“Then enlighten me as to what this is, please.”
She took the paper and stared at it in blank shock. The angry words she had written a few weeks ago. A sick dread curled through her. “I do not understand…how is this possible?” And with a dreadful flash of insight, she knew Miranda had something to do with it.
“Did you write this?” he asked softly.
“I…I did not submit this to Mr. Bell. I swear it on my honor.”
The duke’s mien was cold, aloof, indifferent and it pierced her heart. She hurried over to him. “Christopher, if you’ll allow me to—”
“I warned you what would happen should you slander my name,” he slung with raw fury. His tone was so cutting she flinched.
“You have called my honor into question. You have brought down scrutiny on my family though I warned you of the consequences. You wantonly published filthy lies, besmirching my character, and you did not have the nerve or courage to do it as yourself, but hide behind a pseudonym while you willfully ruined another!”
“I did not post this!” she said, a desperate pain worming through her heart. Pain and doubt gripped her by the throat at the chilling indifference in his eyes and tone. “I would never have posted this, you must believe me.”
He took a few steps closer, and it was then she saw that pain also glowed in his eyes. Her words had hurt him. She had offended his pride and his honor. And in doing so, she might have lost the respect and love that had been brewing in his heart for her.
The heaviness against Christopher’s heart was an unbearable weight. Her lovely eyes glowed with pain and guilt. “You do think this of me. Every word.” He hadn’t thought the pain in his heart could grow. He had been hoping someone else had written it, that she had passed the mantle of Lady W to another.
“No! Of course not.” She closed her eyes before opening them. “I was not the person who published it,” she admitted hoarsely.
He narrowed in on the distinction. “But you wrote it?” Please say no.
She flinched. “Yes, but before I knew you, before I knew the kind, wonderful man you are, before when I thought you had callously seduced Miranda and abandoned her. I had been hurt and angry on her behalf, hurt and angry at all the cads in the world. And that hurt went into my words.”
“So you wrote all those vile things about me weeks ago?”
“Yes!”
Instead of feeling lighter, his heart became even more burdensome. “But as you came to know me…your opinion changed?”
Her eyes were wide with pain and anxiety. “Yes.”
He stepped closer to her, refusing to unbend at the tears pooling in her eyes. To know she had vilified him in such a manner gutted him and had wounded him in a way he hadn't thought possible. How foolish he had been in the powers he granted her over his emotions. “Then why did you still have the letter?”
A delicate hand covered her lips, and she stared at him without answering. "Would you like me to inform you, Miss Cavanaugh?"
