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He held up a hand. "I—"
"You lied to me!"
"I didn't, Marissa, I swear. She ..." He glanced toward Aidan for help, but the man smiled and made no move to assist. Shit. Jude could hardly call the man to the carpet in front of his sister. But tears glistened in her eyes now. "Listen," Jude pled as she started to turn away.
She froze but didn't look at him.
"The other night Patience Wellingsly confessed to some... tender feelings for me—"
"The other night?" Marissa snapped.
Jude looked up to the ceiling, but it was as unhelpful as Aidan York. "She implied that she was in love with someone. Possibly me."
"I see. Was she overwhelmed by your kisses?" Marissa was nearly shouting, and Jude would've enjoyed the spectacle if he wasn't feeling quite so panicked. Still, he assured himself, her jealousy was a good thing, as long as it didn't take too strong a hold.
"I told you I've never kissed her."
"Then it makes no sense." She flung a hand in his direction. "Why would she love you then?"
He'd taken a step toward her, but those words stopped him in his tracks. "What?"
"If you haven't so much as touched her, why would she be falling in love with you?"
That was far more than a question. It was an insult wielded with all the subtlety of a medieval mace. "You can't believe a woman would love me for any other reason?"
"How would I know?" Her words hovered in the air.
"Marissa," Edward said quietly.
Her brow wrinkled in a brief moment of confusion before the anger took over again. "What I believe is that you told me there was nothing between you and that woman, and now I discover she may be in love with you."
He'd told himself there would be no brooding today, but it was hard not to brood when it felt as if his chest was an open wound. He turned away from the woman who'd wielded the weapon and looked at Edward York. "I'll go see her. It's a small chance, but if we can put this to rest, all the better."
He heard the soft sound of his name on Marissa's lips as he passed, and felt the even more tentative touch of her hand, but Jude kept walking. Let her worry over what he thought of her; he'd spent enough time doing the same for her.
She thought him not worthy of affection, and her brothers thought him too low to understand honor. He'd always loved the York home, but for now he wanted nothing more than to walk away from it for a few hours.
Chapter 17
Jude paced the receiving room of the Wellingsly house, still furious with Marissa for her casual words. To assess that he was good for naught but physical pleasure and then throw that in his face.
But what right had he to be angry? His entire plan had centered around seducing her into affection. Yes, he'd hoped they had some small friendship as well, but seduction... that had been the very soul of his plan. So why did he feel so wronged to have it named?
He could not reconcile his anger, and it didn't help that he'd almost convinced himself that Patience Wellingsly was behind this blackmail fiasco. Had he sent her some false signal? He'd thought it nothing more than a simple flirtation. But she fell in love easily, and perhaps he should’ve taken more care.
"Damn it," he breathed, running a hand through his hair. The ride over had been damp and had done little to relieve his dark mood.
"Mr. Bertrand," she said, walking into the room with a wide smile. "What a pleasure."
"Mrs. Wellingsly." He managed a polite bow, but there was no mistaking the roughness of his voice. She started to stretch out both hands, as if to take his or even embrace him, but when she met his eyes, her hands fell. So did her smile.
"Is something the matter?"
"I wished to speak with you about a delicate matter."
For a split second, her eyes brightened, turning up a bit at the corners as hope started to bloom on her face, but then she gave her head a little shake. "I see. A delicate, unpleasant matter?"
"You know why I'm here, then?"
