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Edwina nodded, her eyes wide. “I have never really liked her.”
“For good reason,” he told her softly. He rubbed his temples, trying to avoid the worried expression on Edwina’s face. “We were engaged before I went to France over five years ago. I had proposed to her in her first season. Sweet Leticia.”
Waves of memories swept over him, making his voice thick with emotion. He pressed on though his words felt thick in his mouth. Edwina continued to breathe heavily, but he could see the muscles in her jaw tightening in anger. He had not wanted to tell her for so long because he did not want her pity, did not think he deserved her sympathy.
“When I returned, I thought she would hurry to my side, nurse me back to health. Instead, I found out that she had flirted and danced the rest of the season away. She never visited me, not even after I recovered. When I could get out of bed, I called on her. Do you know what she did?”
Edwina shook her head hesitantly.
“She screamed in my face as soon as I stepped into the room. She shrunk away from me, calling me a monster. In my shame, I fled from her, embarrassed. I did not even stand my ground; I did not call her out for her terrible behavior. I thought I deserved it.”
“Fergus,” Edwina breathed, reaching out to him again with that pitying look on her face. Fergus pulled away from her. He could see her yearning for him, wanting to comfort him.
“I was not bitter then. I tried to go to social events, only for the entiretonto whisper about me behind their hands. They even let their children mock me to my face. One debutante heard so much about me that once she finally saw me, she fainted when I tried to kiss her hand.”
“I know you have been treated terribly –”
“Do these people sound like people you want to be friends with, people you would trust? Do they sound like people that would care for you or just care for your titles, your money, and your looks?” Fergus asked, desperate and pained.
“Fergus, I get it!” Edwina finally cried. She stepped forward, her eyes pleading with him. “I know you feel cynical and jaded. But this is real.”
Fergus took a deep breath, trying to clear his head to listen to what Edwina had to say. “What makes you think that I am in terrible danger?”
“Lord Somersby spoke passionately at the ball about trying to catch the Monster,” she explained, exhaling a long breath. “He had the whole ballroom cheering and crying out for blood. He has formed a mob, ready to hunt down this Monster since no one else will.”
Fergus’ blood ran cold. “And apparently, they think that I am the monster.”
“That is what I have been trying to explain,” Edwina scolded him, clutching her fingers into fists. “If I could see the similarities based on this lady’s account of her attack, it is only time before they draw the same conclusion. That is why I needed to know where you were last night. We must be able to prove that you were not the attacker.”
“What difference does it make?” Fergus asked, wiping his hands across his eyes.
“If we can explain, then they should not bother you!”
“It is my word, the word of a supposed monster, against theirs,” he pointed out dejectedly. “No, it does not matter.”
“Why will you not just tell me?” she shouted at him in frustration, tears forming in her eyes. “Why do you keep hiding these secrets from me? Tell me, Fergus, because even I worry. Are you the monster? You have spent more nights away from my bed than in it.”
“You think I am the monster, too, then?” he asked in a quiet voice, his heart sinking.
“No,” Edwina protested, trying to reach out for him again, but he pulled away. “No, I do not think you are, but you are not giving me any evidence to reassure me otherwise.”
“I should not have to,” he argued. “You should trust me and believe me, your husband.”
“Why should I?” she shouted back. “You have hidden from me, lied to me, left me alone in this great house for weeks. I have given you every opportunity to trust me, but you refuse.”
“I just explained to you how I have been mocked and betrayed for who I am. Does that not mean something?” he asked. “I told you, I have been trying.”
“It is not enough! You cannot just give me these little pieces, like feeding scraps of meat to a dog under the table. Fergus, if you want me to trust you, you must trust me!” He turned away from her, breathing out a laugh of disbelief as he hooked his fingers together at the top of his head.
“This whole affair has been a terrible mistake,” he whispered into the dark corner of the foyer. “This marriage, this arrangement, everything; this was all a huge mistake.”
“Fergus,” Edwina whispered behind him. “Do not say that.”
“Let us hope you are with child by now,” he said, turning quickly. “Because right now, I cannot be the man that you want me to be. No matter how hard I try, I will never be enough for you.”
She opened her mouth to protest as he pushed past her, down the long hallway out to the back of the house. His heart hammered in his throat, and his vision swam; he felt so overwhelmed that he barely noticed when he pushed past Simon in the hall.
“Your Grace!” Simon called after him, but he did not stop.
