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“Do not tell me you don’t still think about me. I know I think about you,” Stanhope interrupted.
She remembered all her dreams about him crawling back to her on his hands and knees, and she couldn’t remember why. Perhaps it was her pride, certainly not her heart.
“Of course, I think about you—”in revulsion, she was about to add, but at this moment, a shadow appeared behind Stanhope, and a huge hand landed on his shoulder.
“Your tryst is over,” boomed Vane’s voice. “Now, get the hell out of this house.”
Stanhope turned to face him and visibly shrunk. He was about a foot shorter than the marquess—which wasn’t difficult since Vane was the tallest man Isabel ever knew—but Stanhope seemed feeble now, almost childlike. Nevertheless, he didn’t scurry away.
“I believe this is not your home. And you cannot turn me out,” he said somewhat calmly. Isabel gave him credit for not quivering out of his boots. Vane’s presence was rather intimidating. “I shall see you at the table.” Stanhope addressed the last to Isabel and walked away.
Isabel was left staring at Vane’s chest.
“If you must cuckold me, couldn’t you at least wait untilafterthe wedding breakfast?” Vane’s tone was as dry as a desert. He asked it as though he didn’t doubt what he’d witnessed, more so, as if he’d expected it to happen.
“I did not cuckold you,” Isabel said between her teeth.
“I do not expect you to be faithful, but the least you can do is be honest… And for the sake of both of us, circumspect.”
“I did not—” Isabel started, her nostrils flaring. She took a deep breath to calm herself. “That was not what you think it was. He accosted me.”
Vane just looked at her, boredom evident in his eyes. He did not believe her. Not only did he think her an adulteress, but also a liar. And he was not even angry about it. What kind of marriage did he expect them to have?
“Come,” he said curtly. “Guests will start wondering where you disappeared to.”
Isabel did not have the will or strength to argue just then. She’d address all her issues with him after they got back home.
Home.
Only her home would be a foreign place with strange people and huge, unmannered dogs…
She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and placed her hand on her husband’s sleeve.
