Page 75 of A Perfect Gentleman

“Graeme . . . damn it. I want the truth.” Abby’s eyes blazed. “Tell me what my father did to you.”

“He knew!” Graeme snapped. “There. Are you happy? Thurston told me if I did not marry you, he would reveal my father’s embezzlement.”

Silence hung in the air between them, as solid as a wall.

“What?” Abby felt as if the air had been knocked out of her. She sank down on the vanity stool.

“Abby, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to tell you. I know you love your father.”

“No wonder you hated him! And you believed I was part of it. That I knew, that I was forcing you—” She let out a choked noise and clapped her hand over her mouth.

“No, please, I—” He stopped, looking torn. “Don’t cry.”

Abby ached for him to deny it, but he could not, of course. He had believed it. He’d told her so.

“No wonder you despise me!” She could no longer hold back her tears. They poured forth, her words coming in sodden, breathless spurts. “I see now why you hated me. Why you shoved me out of your life. I’m surprised you didn’t shove me out a window, as well.”

“Abby! No.” Graeme started forward, his face stamped with concern. “I don’t despise you. I—”

“No!” She leapt to her feet, holding out her hand to stop him. “Please, don’t be kind. I could not bear that. He ruined your life. I ruined your life! I am so, so sorry.” She broke down finally, covering her face with her hands, her body racked with sobs.

“Abby, please—” Graeme reached out for her.

Abby whirled away. She would be lost if he touched her. “No! I cannot. Just leave me. Please.”

“I can’t do that. Abby, I—”

“Leave her alone!” They both whirled at the sound of Molly’s voice.

Abby’s maid stood in the doorway, a small tray in her hands. She slammed the tray down on the dresser and charged over to Abigail. Wrapping her arms around Abby, Molly glared at Graeme. “Haven’t you done enough damage? Go away and let the girl be.”

Graeme’s eyes sparked. “Don’t tell me what to do. She is my wife, and—”

“That doesn’t give you license to hurt her.”

“What? I have never lifted a finger against Abby. And you can bloody well pack your—”

“No! Stop!” Abby wrenched away from Molly and positioned herself between the other two, facing Graeme. “I can’t stand this. Graeme, please . . . please, just go.”

Graeme started to speak but stopped, clenching his jaw. Letting out an explosive, wordless sound, he strode toward the connecting door to his room. He stopped, his hand on the doorknob, his eyes on the key in the lock. He turned to look at Abby in disbelief. His face smoothed out, and he pivoted, striding through the open door into the hallway.

Abby stood looking after him.

“Here.” Molly came to her, sliding her arm around Abby. “Don’t fret. What did he say to put you in such a state?”

“It wasn’t his fault.” Abby pulled away from the older woman. “It was . . . I can’t talk about it. Go on to bed, Molly.”

“But—”

“No.” She shook her head. “I just want to be alone.”

Molly hovered, looking doubtful, but finally sighed and said, “You drink your cup, now, and go to bed.”

Abby nodded. And, at last, she was alone. Abby glanced around the room. It seemed huge and empty. Mechanically, she sat down, staring into the glowing coals of the fire. She was numb, unable to think, her head aching from the bout of tears and her body drained of emotion.

She had been so happy the past few days, and now her life lay around her in ruins. What a fool she had been to put herself in this situation. She had been so stubbornly, blindly certain she could forge a new life for herself. She had even hoped it would include Graeme as well as a child.

But how could anything good ever come of a marriage built upon distrust, anger, and contempt? Graeme’s love for another woman made it unlikely enough, but now that she really understood why Graeme had married then rejected her, she despaired of their union.