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“You mustn’t do such things for me again.”
“What things?”
“Hurting yourself.” Her throat tightened again as she considered the true damage done this day. “Marrying me. The scandal will be dreadful.”
“Nonsense. Once we announce our nuptials, this little misadventure will be forgotten.”
She shook her head. “Announce? Don’t be foolish. We must annul the marriage as quickly and quietly as possible.”
He withdrew his hand. The warmth behind her disappeared. “Euphemia.”
She must resolve this. She would not allow him to suffer for her sake. “Perhaps we can deny the wedding ever occurred.” Warming to the idea, she shifted to look at him, but he’d wandered away again to gaze out the window. “The only proof is the letter we signed. Certainly, five shillings could purchase the innkeeper’s silence as readily as it purchased his time.”
No reply. He stood stiffly, one hand braced on the casing, the other propped on his hip.
“It’s the perfect solution,” she continued. “We’ll simply dispose of the letter and pretend this whole day never happened. Everything will be as it was before.”
Silence fell, punctuated only by the crackling fire.
“Andrew?”
Without a word, he shoved away from the window, yanked the door open, and stormed out with a slam.
She flinched. Her head reeled. Carefully, she rose to place the book inside the chest. He’d sorted through all the bits and bobs, she noted. The jewelry was neatly categorized in the tray, the various linens folded into stacks, the artifacts arranged according to date and kind.
He’d done this for her.
Breath whooshed out on a painful gust.
He’d come to Scotland for her.
He’d struck Mr. Gibbs for her.
He’d married her so she could have the treasure she’d sought.
And she’d just told him she wished to forget it happened.
Cold sickness struck her middle. A relentless vise squeezed her chest. How ungrateful she must seem. How he must regret ever hiring her. Helping her. Protecting her, as he’d done time and again over the past three years. He thought she hadn’t noticed all the taunts he’d ignored from male colleagues over hiring a female secretary. He thought she didn’t remember all the times he’d prevented her from stumbling blindly onto a busy road with a gentle, steadying hand. All the times he’d caught a vase or priceless urn she’d accidentally toppled, placing it back on its shelf as though he’d simply been browsing the merchandise. All the times, in other words, that he’d rescued her without causing her a moment of distress.
Heavens, he was a kind man. And he’d taken such good care of her. She could not leave their conversation unfinished. She must make him understand how grateful she was. How much she wanted to resume their prior arrangement in which he needn’t pretend romantic attachment toward her, and she was free to love him, even if that love must be disguised.
She couldn’t let this stand. She couldn’t let him go. Not without a fight.
Frantic now, she rushed to don her clammy half-boots. Then, she retrieved his coat from the drying rack, wrapped the blanket around her body like a plaid, and hurried out into the icy darkness.
