Page 64 of The Marriage Wager

“Why?” her mother added sharply.

“I have no desire to harm Lord Leighton,” Constance replied. “I know he must marry well. His words today were generous and kind. But he should not have to pay for the remainder of his life because he acted the gentleman.” She refused to admit to Muriel and her mother that she could not marry Dominic because he did not love her; that was entirely too much to ask of her.

“You don’t want to marry him?” Muriel looked stunned.

“I am doing what is best for both of us,” Constance said flatly.

“Or are you playing a cunning game?” Lady Rutherford murmured.

Constance turned to look at her. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Lady Rutherford studied her for a moment. Constance was sure that she was considering the possibilities this request presented for Muriel. She would realize, Constance felt sure, that if Constance left Redfields before the engagement was formerly announced, there would be little likelihood that Dominic would persist in the charade that they were engaged. If Dominic was once again free, she could hope that there was some possibility that she and Lord Selbrooke could maneuver him into marriage with Muriel. Constance did not feel inclined to tell her that she was certain that Dominic would never marry Muriel, no matter what she herself did.

“So…” Lady Rutherford said finally. “You wish to sneak out of here in secret? No one knowing that you have gone?”

“Yes.” Constance felt tears flood her eyes, but she struggled to hold them back. It was almost more than she could bear to think of leaving Dominic with no word of explanation. But she could not tell him or even Francesca, who she feared would be sure to inform Dominic. She had to slip out secretly, or Dominic would try to stop her.

“All right,” Lady Rutherford told her almost pleasantly. “We are leaving before breakfast tomorrow. Be sure you are ready.”

Constance nodded and left the room. She walked back to her bedchamber and began to pack her things. Her heart felt like lead in her chest.

She tried to concentrate on making her plans. When she reached London, she would go to her aunt and uncle’s house. Even without her relatives there, she knew the servants would admit her. She would have to go somewhere else soon, of course. Aunt Blanche and Uncle Roger would be furious with her for creating a scandal and ruining the possibility of their connection with an earl. But she could stay at their house long enough to withdraw some of her money from the Funds and get enough cash to travel to Bath.

She had another aunt who lived in Bath. She and her father had visited her often when her father was ill, and Constance thought that Aunt Deborah would be happy enough to take her in. As Aunt Deborah’s widow’s portion was not large and she lived in a very small place, it would not be a suitable living arrangement for long, but at least it would give Constance some time to recover and figure out what to do with her life.

She would have to earn some sort of income, she thought; the amount of money she received from her small inheritance would not be enough to live on. She supposed that she might be able to be a hired companion, though that seemed a dreary life. Of course, that prospect might not be available if there was too much scandal attached to her name. Perhaps if she and her aunt pooled their resources, they might be able to get a slightly larger place and eke out a living.

It did not take her long to pack, sped along by her unhappy thoughts. Her trunk was soon filled, as was another small bag. She stopped and looked around the room, and for a moment it was all she could do to keep from crying.

She thought about the fact that she would not see Dominic again—never see his smile or hear his voice, never glance over to see his eyes on her. It seemed so hard, so unfair, and she could not but wonder how she could bear it. Would he hate her for leaving abruptly, without any sort of explanation? Or would he breathe a sigh of relief?

She wanted to write him a note to explain what she was doing and why. She would hate to think that he believed her uncaring or ungrateful.

But Lady Rutherford was right in guessing that she needed to sneak out without anyone knowing. If Dominic knew where she had gone, he might very well pursue her. He could be, she suspected, a very stubborn man when he thought he was in the right. Though it was not a long journey to London, a man on horseback might be able to catch up with a carriage before it reached the city.

But if she left early in the morning and Dominic did not know right away, she could be in London or very near it before he even realized that she was gone. Once she was in London, she would instruct the servants that she would not receive Lord Leighton, and within a day or two, she would be on her way to her aunt’s, and he would have no idea of where to reach her.

She had to leave secretly. She could not tell him anything. After she left, she could write him a letter, she thought. Or she could write a note for him and entrust it to one of the maids, telling her not to give it to him before noon. But even that was not very safe, she knew, for if Lord Leighton was asking for her among the servants, a maid would be frightened of the consequences of not telling him what she knew. No, it was safest to write nothing until she arrived in London. Leaving in such a way would doubtless make him angry with her, and she hated the thought of his thinking ill of her, but, really, it would be for the best. He would be less likely to try to make her change her mind.

Or perhaps, Constance thought, she was fooling herself with the idea that Dominic would even pursue her. He wanted to marry her only because he thought it was the right thing to do, not because he loved her. He might be happy when he found out she had left and he had been freed of an unwelcome obligation.

With these unhappy thoughts running through her head, Constance began to get ready for bed. She pulled the pins from her hair and brushed it out perfunctorily, then slipped out of her clothes and donned her nightgown.

She sat down on her bed, pulling her knees up to her chin and wrapping her arms around her bent legs. For a moment she thought of Dominic and of what had passed between them this afternoon. Whatever had happened since then, it could not ruin her memories of their lovemaking. She loved Dominic with all her heart, and the happiest moments of her life had been his arms. She had felt more truly alive then than she ever had before.

She realized that she could not leave without seeing him again, without experiencing one more time the joy she had known earlier. She stood up and slipped on her dressing gown, belting it around her waist. She would go to him tonight. No matter how bleak the rest of her life would be, she would at least have this one last moment of love.

Constance picked up a candlestick from her bedside table and lit it from her oil lamp. Then she opened her door and peered out into the hall. The hallway was dim, all the doors closed. She could hear no voices. It appeared that while she was packing, everyone else had gone to bed.

Quietly, one hand in front of the candle’s flame to shield it from drafts, she glided quietly down the corridor. Stopping in front of Dominic’s door, she looked carefully up and down the hall. She thought about knocking, but it seemed safer to simply turn the handle and go inside. It might be a trifle rude, but, she thought with a smile playing about her lips, she hoped that she could quickly persuade him not to care about the lack of courtesy.

Turning the knob silently, she opened the door and whisked inside, closing the door behind her.

“What the devil?” Dominic was standing beside his bed, and at the sound of her entrance, he whipped around. When he saw her, he relaxed, his fists unclenching. “Constance…what are you doing here?”

He had already started undressing and was wearing only his breeches, his feet and chest bare. Constance felt the now-familiar heat stirring in her loins at the sight of him.

“I wanted to see you,” she said quietly, setting her candlestick down on the dresser beside the door.