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He studied her. ‘Well, it is best I find out your disagreeability before we wed. I would hate to be surprised.’ He studied his palm before glancing at her. ‘Again.’
He was not sure he wanted any wife at the moment. A woman could appear as sweet as the finest confectionery, but then one error at the wrong moment and she stubbornly refused to do the sensible thing and correct it.
‘You know that no one can force me to marry you.’
‘Fine. That might be safest,’ he said. ‘Don’t marry me. But Warrington will not be pleased. Your sister will not be pleased. Your niece and nephews will miss you.’
‘I can write enough words now to send them letters. It is how I will practise.’ She tapped her hand to her head. ‘Thank you for helping me read. It will be very useful now.’
The face which had been so soft in his hands earlier had changed. Her eyes no longer had the sparkle he’d seen in them before.
He tried to think how he would advise someone else to sort out this problem, after he’d told them they were an arse for getting in such a bramble.
Fine. He knew he’d been foolish, but he couldn’t condemn himself for that.
He glanced at his puckered palm, wondering if his senses had bled out with his humours. The memory of her would go with him to his grave. And if he ever needed to be reminded he could simply hold out his hand.
‘I don’t regret what we did, Bellona. I only regret the knowledge of it being something for people to whisper about. If you wed me, and continue in the ways of a duchess, then society will accept you well enough. Your sister, the countess, is quite adept at moving in society. You can be as well.’
‘No. If you think because we are sisters, that we are similar, you are wrong. To be a sister means only the faces are near the same. Our thoughts are our own.’
‘What is wrong with you that you do not relish the chance to put yourself in the highest tiers of society for ever? To wed me?’
‘As I said, I can do better.’ She spoke. Quiet words. His second slap of the day.
The carriage rolled up to Whitegate and she jumped out before the door was properly opened for her.
She ran towards the steps. He would not chase after her. At a sedate pace, he followed. The groom watched from the corner of his eye. The servants would discuss this tonight. At least she had looked lovely draped in bed clothing. He hoped that had been noted.
The butler opened the door for her and waited for Rhys.
Bellona was not in sight by the time Rhys crossed the threshold. ‘Summon the earl,’ he said to the servant.
‘I do not think it is necessary, Your Grace.’ The butler spoke in the distant way of a well-trained servant, showing no awareness in his face of any upheaval in the household. ‘He dispatched a message summoning you at half-past and he did not speak quietly.’
Rhys brushed by the man, not waiting to be announced, and moved up the stairs as easily as if the home were his own. He slowed at the sitting-room door.
Bellona sat on the sofa, not speaking. Spine firm—lips the same.
Warrington stood, arms clasped behind his back, staring at a painting of the three children playing. One chair was overturned.
‘Rhys.’ Just the one softly spoken word. Warrington didn’t move.
‘War.’ He paused. ‘Would you like to travel with us to procure the special licence?’
The pop of Warrington’s jaw preceded his answer. ‘I don’t think you need do so, Rhys.’
‘Why?’
‘No one will expect you to.’
Bellona’s chin tilted a bit, defiant, but her knuckles were white as she gripped the reticule.
Rhys stepped inside and shut the door.
Warrington exhaled sharply. ‘She tells me she led you to the room. When you suggested marriage, she refused.’
‘I will leave England,’ she said.
‘You cannot run away from this, Bellona,’ Rhys challenged.
‘My sisters and I ran from Melos.’ She shrugged. ‘It has not turned out too badly for them.’
‘It doesn’t have to turn out badly for you either.’ Rhys gestured with his right hand for emphasis.
Warrington’s eyes locked on his palm. The earl gave a sharp intake of breath. ‘Arrow?’
Rhys immediately dropped his hand, turning the wound away from the earl’s gaze. He shook his head in answer and kept his eyes on Bellona. ‘Do not make this worse for yourself.’
‘I won’t,’ she said. ‘I’m leaving.’ She paused for a second. ‘It will be best for you, too. You will not have to concern yourself that you could do better.’
‘I have never said such a thing. You are the one who keeps saying that. Not me.’
