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Chapter Twenty-Seven
“I’m dreadfully sorry for what happened,” Blaire said. “If I could take all of it back, I swear that I would. We both would. Isn’t that right, Simon?”
“Of course, Mother.”
Reginald barely heard them. There was no point in listening to his aunt or cousin anymore. Since Marcella had gone to bed, they’d said the same thing over and over. They were sorry about what happened. Blaire was apologetic for admitting the truth about Reginald’s reasons for marrying Marcella, and Simon was sorry that he’d lost his temper and revealed the truth about Marcella’s deception.
More than anything, Reginald wished that he could return to Southwark, where he could drown his sorrows in a pint of beer and the kind words of his friends.
“If there is anything we can do to help you,” Blaire said, “don’t hesitate to tell us. Maybe if I speak to the lady, I can soothe her indignation a little.”
“No,” Reginald replied, wearily leaning back in the chair behind his desk. “No, we shouldn’t disturb my poor wife. I’m sure she’d benefit most from having a little time and space to herself. She is a woman who prefers quiet contemplation when she is vexed by something.”
Reginald’s aunt Blaire sat in the chair across from him. Simon stood behind her, looking for the first time, genuinely remorseful and uncomfortable. He kept shifting on his feet, looking as though he’d rather be anywhere but in that study. It was cruel of him, but Reginald couldn’t help but draw a small bit of satisfaction from that.
“If you believe so, Reginald,” Blaire said.
“Or I could,” Simon replied, his eyes darting nervously around the room. “The lady and I get along well.”
Reginald grimaced at the implied insult.The lady and I get along well, as if Reginald needed a reminder that he and his own wife were no longer in agreement with one another.
“I think you’d best not get involved,” Reginald said. “What would thetonsay if they learned thatyou, my own cousin, went to comfort my wife after we quarreled? I should imagine that would be called disgraceful behavior from both of us.”
“Reginald is quite right,” Blaire replied. “It would make both of you look quite awful. Besides, Reginald, you do know the lady more than we and are more accustomed to her moods. I also think, though, that sometimes, delicate issues require a woman’s gentle touch to resolve.”
“I was more knowledgeable about her character,” Reginald muttered.
Now, who knew? It was impossible to know how much of Marcella’s character was real and how much was a performance. Reginald wanted to believe that all the tenderness was true, but it was impossible to say if it was.
“Oh, I’m dreadfully sorry again,” Blaire said. “I feel just awful about this, and I fear that I may never be able to make amends for my indiscretion.”
Maybe it didn’t matter anyway. With a sharp twinge of guilt, Reginald knew that he’d done something unforgivable in Marcella’s eyes. He had married her only for her money, and even if he could overlook her juvenile behavior, she’d never forgive his. She would continue to be his wife, but her every look would be poisonous and sorrowful.
“You can be familiar again with her moods, surely?” Blaire asked. “Of course, the lady lied, but I assure you that marriages have recovered from much worse. Why, I’m sure that you’ve heard all the scandals over the years! This is the smallest of them, and although I quite like her, Marcella should be a proper lady and accept her position.”
“The blame does not lie solely with Marcella, especially when her great sin is that she refused to compromise her own closely held values,” Reginald said quietly. “I’m as to blame as she. I deceived her, and even knowing of her anxieties regarding marriage, I still refused to reveal the truth to her.”
More of the blame was his. He hadn’t believed that when they’d argued, when his temper and broken heart had gotten the best of him, but now that he’d had some time to calm himself a little, he realized that he’d been childish himself. When he met Simon’s gaze, Reginald felt that his cousin’s eyes seemed to accuse him. Again, that fateful night loomed between them.
I’ve managed to make a mess of everything once again, and this time, I hurt an innocent lady. I deserved her cold treatment and her falsehoods. I should’ve been a better Marquess and a more supportive husband.
Hadn’t this plan been doomed from the start? How could Reginald possibly have thought that he’d be able to return to his life as a respectable gentleman after being away from thetonfor a decade?
“Shall we stay and help you?” Blaire asked. “I don’t—”
“No,” Reginald interrupted. “You should leave. I don’t want my problems to distress you. I’m certain that, given time, Marcella and I can resolve this difference between us.”
In truth, he’d begun turning an idea over in his mind, and he feared that either his aunt or cousin might attempt to stop him if they knew. They meant well, but they respected him too much as a member of their family.
Blaire cares too much for me to have maliciously told Marcella of my intentions. I’ve no doubt Simon meant to anger me. He might’ve even been waiting for the opportunity to do something like this. Perhaps he only courted Adeline in an attempt to ruin my marriage.
Had Simon even been the one who told Blaire that Reginald had married Marcella for her money? Either that or they’d guessed. Reginald was too tired to care much about their motivations. He wasn’t made for politics or high society. Really, he’d only ever been comfortable in Southwark. He was a fool for thinking that he might live anywhere else or that he might serve his friends and those abused people as a Marquess.
“We’ll see ourselves out,” Blaire said. “If you change your mind, don’t hesitate to notify us. We’ll come at once.”
What good could they possibly do? This wasn’t a situation which could be easily remedied, especially not by the people who’d played a hand in causing it. Really, Reginald didn’t have it in him to be angry at either his aunt or cousin, but that didn’t mean Marcella would agree.
The situation would be awkward, no matter how any of them thought of it.
