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'His Grace Marcus Brookes, Duke of Tinton.' Marcus bowed, that smile still on his face. 'It is wonderful, believe me, to finally introduce myself to you.'
Finally introduce himself? So all of the things they had said to one another in the cave, all of the intimate secrets they had exchanged--for Marcus, that had all been nothing compared to this? A sudden, shocking display of his wealth?
This wasn't a diamond bracelet stolen from someone who already had too much money in the first place. This was wealth beyond anyone's wildest dreams, Abigail's included--but oh, to be presented with it like this?
Marcus was no ordinary person. He played at being one for fun--and he had played with her sentiments too.
He tricked me. The words trickled down into Abigail's heart and stayed there, slowly but surely turning it to ice.
'Perhaps I was hasty in bringing you here. I can admit that--but I couldn't resist.' Marcus’ smile was a little less broad now. ‘Are you overcome?’
‘No.’ It was difficult to speak. ‘No, I am not overcome.’
‘But you don’t look happy.’
‘I’m not happy.’ Her voice sounded small and sad in the vast entrance hall. ‘I’m not happy at all.’
Marcus blinked. ‘Surely you jest.’
‘Why on earth would I jest?’
‘Because you are a singular and peerless woman, Abigail, but I’ve yet to meet one of your sex who isn’t at least a little happy about having met someone of my rank.’
‘Well.’ It was possibly the worst answer Marcus could have given her without actually laughing in her face. Abigail clenched her fists as she continued, not caring if Marcus saw. ‘I imagine I would be most gratified to meet someone of your rank, if that someone hadn’t spent the previous two days pretending to be someone else entirely.’
‘There was no pretence. I am a highwayman when not being a duke, and a duke when not being a highwayman.’
‘I’m not talking about that. My dislike of this situation doesn’t rest on that level of stupidity.’
‘I would certainly never call you stupid. Don’t put words in my mouth.’
‘I’m not putting words in your mouth when it comes to my intelligence, or indeed anything else. You told me yourself that you were no-one of importance! Words from your own lips!’
‘Abigail, I was merely trying to… to…’
‘Trying to do what? Deceive me? Make me—make me imagine a future that doesn’t exist?’ The happy ideas Abigail had comforted herself with in the carriage were slipping through her fingers like sand. Normality, invisibility—all gone. ‘You are hardly no-one of importance, Marcus. Forgive me—Your Grace.’
‘Abigail!’
‘You should have told me from the first!’
‘The first? Why on earth would I have unburdened my deepest secrets to someone that I had only just met?’
‘Because… because I unburdened myself to you from the first. The very first. Not because I had to, but because I trusted you.’ Abigail turned away from him, tears blurring her eyes as a sudden, savage pain wrenched at her core of her. ‘Perhaps it was very foolish. No, not perhaps—certainly. But for some reason, I expected the same foolishness from you.’
If Marcus reached out and touched her now, she would turn around and face him again. The lightest, sweetest touch, a hand on her shoulder; that would be enough to soften her, to turn this conversation from something terrible into something capable of redemption… but no touch came.
‘Forgive me.’ Marcus sounded tremendously angry, tremendously hurt, but not as if he wished to be forgiven at all. ‘I had assumed that inviting you into my world would be a welcome things. But if you find my wealth so unutterably distasteful—and believe me, I am no ardent lover of it myself—you are, of course, free to leave.’
‘G-good.’ Even though Abigail had every intention of leaving of her own accord, Marcus introducing it first felt like a defeat. ‘I will.’
Silence yawned between them. Just as Abigail was about to turn around, unable to bear it, Marcus walked past her.
He turned to her. His face, fraught and furious, made Abigail take a step backward.
‘If you truly wish to leave, I will provide you with pen and paper and you may write a note to whichever friend is closest. They may come and collect you at their earliest convenience. I will ride and give the message to one of the Tinton boys as soon as you have finished writing it.’ Marcus gave a nod that bordered on a bow, but didn’t quite reach it. ‘Good day to you.’
He snapped his fingers in the still, cold air, then walked away.
