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“I mean, you could have been married to Giles Perry, a barrister’s son with a promising political career. Instead, you’re with the disgraced Lord Byrne. The one who dirties his hands in trade, because his father drove the estate straight up to the brink of insolvency and only failed to take it over the edge because he drank himself to death first. Those ladies on holiday would cluck their tongues, wouldn’t they? All of England would be shaking their heads.”
“Sebastian. You can’t think I’m ashamed of having married you.”
“Of course not,” he said mockingly. “You prefer to spend the week squirreled away with me in some ramshackle cottage, scrubbing floors and assembling furniture, when you could be staying in the finest seaside resort.”
“Idoprefer it.”
“To be sure.” He rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Why wouldn’t you? Just look at all the fun we’re having right this very moment.”
She shook her head. “I can’t believe this.”
“Well, I can’t believe you. It’s clear you’re trying to persuade me into remaining here. Vases of flowers on the table, breakfast.” He gave the unfinished bed a disgusted look.“That.”
“Well, pardon me for attempting to make our honeymoon cottage just the tiniest bit romantic.”
“It’s not supposed to be romantic. You were jilted by your groom. I stepped in to marry you out of loyalty to your brother. It’s not as though we clasped hands and ran away into the sunset, Mary.” He swept her with a cold look. “We’re not in love.”
His words struck her in the chest with such force, she couldn’t breathe.
And she hadn’t any logical reason to feel hurt. He was only speaking the truth. She simply hadn’t realized, until this moment, how much she wished the truth were different.
“I…” She blinked rapidly, forcing back a hot tear.
He pushed his hands through his hair and cursed. “Mary, don’t listen to me. We’re both exhausted, and—”
“It’s all right, Sebastian. You don’t need to explain.” Mary backed her way toward the door. She had to escape this room. The walls were closing in on her, squeezing at her heart. “We can leave for Ramsgate whenever you’re ready.”
Chapter 7
It took Sebastian about five seconds to realize what a bastard he’d been. However, he forced himself to wait a few hours before attempting to tell her so. She needed time and space to breathe, and so did he.
As penance, he did exactly as she’d suggested from the start.
He took the whole damn bed apart, sorted the pieces by size and function, chalked an outline on the floor, and wouldn’t you know. It all fit together as it should.
When he finally went looking for her, she wasn’t in the cottage. He searched through every room, growing increasingly concerned, until he returned to the master bedchamber and happened to look out the window. She was down by the water, walking along the sandy shore.
He picked his way down the winding path to the beach. As she came into view, he paused a moment to recover his breath.
Her lovely profile was to him as she stared out over the ocean. The breeze whipped at her filmy summer frock and toyed with the loose strands of her hair. Before she walked on, she stopped and bent to gather something from the sand, adding it to a collection in her palm.
“Mary!” He jogged down the beach until he reached her side. Once he’d reached her, he searched his brain for the right words. Only three came to mind. “I’m a jackass.”
She ducked her head. “You’re not alone.”
They walked on together.
“What is it you’re collecting?” he asked.
“Cockleshells.” She held them up for him to see. “Couldn’t resist.”
Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow?
With silver bells and cockleshells, and pretty maids all in a row.
Whenever she dug her heels into an argument, Henry had teased her with that rhyme, even long past the age when they should have outgrown it. Sebastian supposed that was what brothers did.
She poked through her little collection with a fingertip. “Perhaps I’ll put them in the garden, with some silver bells and pretty maids all in a row. It would be a nice remembrance, wouldn’t it?”
