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“Convenient, and thus a little hard to believe.”

“Luc, please, we need to talk about this. If you will let me explain—”

Not giving her a chance to finish, he continued in the same polite tone, “There’s nothing to explain. It’s obvious why you were there, madam, and equally obvious that I’ve been mistaken in your character. You are more”—he paused—“worldly and less innocent and trustworthy than I thought.”

r /> “I am a widow. How innocent could you have thought I was? Surely not that innocent, since you did everything you could to seduce me.”

“It’s one thing,” he drawled sardonically, “to be seduced by someone you know. It’s quite another thing to go to a masquerade and cavort with a total stranger. Are you trying to tell me if I hadn’t been there you would have left and not slept with anyone?”

Time seemed to slow as he waited for her answer. The silence stretched out. Ria swallowed hard. She didn’t know what to say. Where to start. Half-completed phrases and sentences buzzed around her mind like bees unable to find their way out of the hive.

Just as what she wanted to say began to take shape, he filled in the silence. He’d obviously taken her lack of response as a sign of guilt.

“No, I thought not. That night you were like a cat in heat. Anyone would have done that night, wouldn’t he?”

“No! If you would just let me explain…”

“I understand perfectly. Everything you told me yesterday was a tissue of lies.” He shrugged. “Oh, I believe St. James was a family friend. But apart from that, I don’t believe your story bore any resemblance to the truth. I bet you did everything you could to entice St. James into marriage.”

Ria’s stomach rolled at the look in Luc’s eyes as he gestured to her neck. “I bet he brought you that expensive locket you’re wearing.” He gave a harsh laugh. “But it wasn’t enough for you, was it? For a woman like you, it’s never enough. You must have been ecstatic when I started courting you. A rich peer. Someone to buy you more jewelry. Your reluctance was merely a game, wasn’t it?”

“No! It wasn’t like that at all!”

He continued as though he had not heard her, his voice clear, firm, and emotionless. “I don’t believe you. Not now. I could never believe anything a jade like you had to say.”

As he spoke, her heart seemed to shatter, the pain so great she almost doubled over. Feeling as though she had been hit in the chest, she gasped for breath. Even if she could have spoken, she didn’t know what to say. He certainly wasn’t in the mood to listen.

He stood there staring at her for a moment, then, with a grimace of disgust, left.

Ria stood in the center of the room. Alone. Her dreams and desires lying strewn around her feet.

Perhaps tomorrow he would listen to her. Let her explain. He had to.

This couldn’t be the end. Could it?

Monty was in his usual spot in the morning room, sitting near the fire. He looked up as she entered and asked, “Did he realize you were Persephone?”

With a broken, humorless laugh she merely said, “Yes.”

Sighing heavily, Monty looked back at the fire. “I suppose it was too much to hope he wouldn’t work it out.”

“He wouldn’t give me a chance to explain. He…” Ria’s voice trailed off. Her throat felt tight, and her eyes stung. If she said anything more, she knew she would dissolve. Again.

Collapsing onto the sofa opposite Monty, she stared at her hands. She’d never noticed the fine blond hairs on the back all grew in the same direction. How fascinating.

Her study was interrupted by Monty, clearing his throat. When she looked up, he gently asked her, “What are you going to do now?”

Choking back the tears that were perilously close, Ria rubbed her forehead. “Give him some time to get over his anger and then try to talk with him again. Perhaps tomorrow.”

How quickly things change. A few weeks ago, she’d have been wounded, but now… what she was feeling went so far beyond that. This was pure anguish.

Looking at Monty, she said helplessly, “I love him. What else can I do?”

24

Sprawled in a red velvet chair, Luc looked at Devon. “I was wrong. Ria and Beatrice are cut from the same cloth—motivated by self-gratification and greed.”

The marquess frowned. “Are you sure that describes Ria? I find it hard to believe that Monty St. James would marry someone like that.”

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