Page 65 of Unbound Duchess

Heat licked at her cheeks as Ellen looked around the room, searching for anything to cover herself. Her gaze landed on a jacket Laurence had abandoned on the back of his leather desk chair, and she stood to get it. Her legs trembled with every step, giving her another reminder that just moments ago they had both been in the throes of passion and neither had cared about the clothes they had lost.

“You did not push me into anything,” she said, pulling the large jacket over her much smaller frame. “I asked you to make me forget, and you did.”

A scowl settled over Laurence’s features, but he still did not look at her.

“I lost myself. This is not what I promised you.”

Another stretch of silence as Ellen’s old insecurities began to creep back in.

“I…I do not know how to respond to that,” she finally said, her tone meek. “I do not understand why you are upset with me.”

Laurence’s gaze was cutting as he finally looked at her, his jaw clenched tight.

“It is not you I am upset with,” he gritted out.

Ellen braved a step toward him, ready to ask him what he meant, when Laurence took several steps backward until he reached the door.

“Stay here,” he commanded, his tight grip on the doorknob making the metal creak. “I will fetch Sarah for you. She will bring you something to wear.”

“Laurence, I do not understand,” she said, hurrying toward him. “Please⁠—”

He was out the door and shutting it behind him before she could say another word, leaving Ellen alone with worries and feelings she did not know how to deal with. She had thought their arrangement was simple and mutual, but Laurence had practically run away from her, so she was not so sure of anything anymore.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

“What happened here?”

Laurence said nothing as Solomon ran his fingertips over the groove in his office floor, where three days earlier Ellen had slammed the fire poker into it. When several seconds ticked by and he still had not answered, Solomon looked up to him with an expectant look.

“You said you had news,” Laurence testily replied as he thrummed his impatient fingers against the top of his desk.

Solomon raised a challenging brow as he knelt over the splintered groove in the floor.

“I asked you a question,” he answered with authority.

“And I am obviously choosing to ignore that question,” Laurence retorted. “We have more important matters to attend to than the state of my floor, do we not?”

Solomon stood to his full height with a grace that belied his tall, solid form, and folded his arms across his chest.

“Alright then, let us talk about those scratches,” he countered, nodding toward Laurence. “The ones on your face and hands. They appear faded. I would wager they are two to three days old. What happened? Were you attacked by a feral cat?”

Laurence’s already bad mood darkened considerably. Ellen had been feral. He had pushed her to become so. And though he had intended to do so to teach her a lesson in self-preservation, the moment had ended up being one of the most depraved, wonderful, sexually charged moments in his entire life. It was a moment that had been so twisted and wrong that even now, three days later, he could not bring himself to look in the mirror or approach Ellen.

The ones that try to appear so very good are often the ones with the most despicable tastes.

Benedict had said that at the ball, and after what transpired with Ellen, Laurence wondered if the man he loathed so much might have actually been right. Laurence had always worn the mantle of protector with pride…but what if he was wrong? What if there was something twisted and despicable that lived within him? What if it was his wife, who had already gone through so much, bringing it out in him?

“Laurence!” Solomon snarled, bringing his fist down atop Laurence’s desk. “What happened here? What is going on in this house that you are not telling me?”

Laurence glared up at his lifelong friend, then stood up so fast he knocked over his desk chair.

“You will not speak this way to me in my own home; do you understand?” Laurence snapped with rage that was equal to his friend's. “I have everything in hand.”

“Do you?” Solomon asked, not missing a beat.

Laurence narrowed his gaze.

“Aside from what you thought you saw at the ball, what would make you think otherwise?” he demanded.