Page 74 of The Gentleman Was Right
She let the words settle. Tried to comprehend how she felt about them.
It was surprisingly easy.
Not having to marry should have infuriated her, but that particular lie had yielded a husband she liked. A husband she trusted. A husband she loved.
Loved?
She came to an abrupt halt and turned to face Basil.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice high and sharp. His mouth dropped open, but fortunately there were no other people on the street to gape at her. “Edward is everything I could want in a husband. He is kind. He is patient. He is passionate. Being his wife has restored my faith in myself and has allowed me to find happiness.”
“I see.” Basil exhaled shakily. “Your marriage is…a blessing then.” He ran his hand down his face. “I’m so relieved. I haven’t been able to shake my worry. I was concerned Edward hadn’t explained my lies. Or that he wasn’t allowing you to access the money. It’s been weighing on me since I left, and then when I saw you exit the carriage in one of your old gowns, I assumed the worst.”
Hadn’t explained?
She stilled, barely hearing the rest of his words. “Edward knows the truth about my inheritance?”
Basil reached out and gripped her forearm urgently. “Of course. Forgive me, but I had to tell him. I didn’t want him to have the wrong idea about me.”
“He knows we didn’t have to marry?” she clarified.
“Yes—”
She spun around before Basil could continue, dropping the umbrella as she hitched up her skirts and sprinted toward the townhouse.
Bursting through the front door, dripping water everywhere, she tore into the entryway. “Edward,” she shouted, worry threading its way into her voice.
Her husband had already blamed himself for not uncovering Basil’s lies before they had married, and the possibility that he felt guilty for his complicity in this was high. She would not allow it to continue for another moment. She didn’t want him to entertain the thought that she could be happier without him.
“Edward,” she repeated, yelling again as she undid her pelisse and allowed it to slide to the ground.
“He’s upstairs,” the housekeeper said, appearing in the hallway with a frown on her face, Isabelle peeking over her shoulder.
“Thank you.” Violet raced up the steps and had just reached the landing, when the door at the end of the hallway flew open and Edward appeared. She barreled into him, knocking him backward into the room she’d suggested just last evening that he might turn into a studio for his art. “I spoke to Basil, and?—”
His eyes widened. “—you did? I’m so sorry. I know that I promised I would always be truthful, and I was going to tell you, but the time never seemed quite right?—”
“—it doesn’t matter.”
“—and I didn’t want you to regret our marriage.”
Silence fell. She pushed the sopping wet hair that had escaped her braid out of her eyes so she could see him clearly. “Regret our marriage?”
“You could have been free, and now you’re stuck with me forever. I thought…I wanted to give you—” He shook his head. “I thought that perhaps with enough time you would come to care for me. But…I know I should have told you immediately. An omission is almost as bad as a lie, and I feel awful that I didn’t tell you straight away.”
“How long have you known?” she asked. It hadn’t occurred to her to consider when Basil had told him, only that he had.
His gaze dropped to the floor. “He informed me the morning after our wedding. I was going to tell you once we were alone, but?—”
“You were too busy listening to me prattle on about how I would never feel affection for you.”
“You were already upset, and I didn’t want to make it worse,” he whispered.
A sound escaped her throat.
A whimper.
And then a sob.
