Page 16 of A Rogue's Rules for Seduction
That had been in the daylight. Before the storm.
Now rain streamed in through holes scattered across the roof, revealing just how run-down this chamber really was. There were puddles everywhere, and water steadily dripped down onto his bed. The bedlinen and mattress were fully soaked.
He set the decanter down on the floor and put the candle on the table, then debated his choices. Go back downstairs, where everyone—including Willa—was gathered, find Mrs. Murray, and then be moved into another room, which would be the chamber next to Willa’s. Or stay here and endure the night.
With an oath, he shucked his fine evening coat and waistcoat and tucked them into the barely standing clothes press. He pushed up his shirtsleeves before stalking to the bed and shoving it across the floor so that the rain no longer poured onto it. The mattress was a lost cause, but he wrung out the blanket and at least the pillow was only a bit damp.
After tugging off his boots, he blew out the candle. He stretched out on the soggy blanket-coveredbed slats. Predictably, his feet stuck out the bottom of the bed, and the pillow squished beneath his head. The storm continued to bellow outside. It was going to be a very long night.
After many hours, he finally fell asleep, and dreamt of diamonds falling from Willa’s eyes.
Chapter 6
Willa managed to collect herself enough to join the other guests after dinner. She made herself smile through several rounds of card games, but all the while, Dom’s words rang through her head, far louder than the storm lashing the house.
Knowin’ I caused you a moment’s pain, let alone nearly a year of it—I’d sooner gut myself with a cargo hook. Not a second goes by that I don’t wish to God I hadn’t caused you anguish. And I’m sorry, so damned sorry I did that. I’ll go to the coldness of the grave repentin’ that I’ve done that to you.
“The next move is yours, Lady Willa,” Mrs. McDaniel said, breaking into her thoughts.
“What’s that?” Willa blinked at the hand of cards she held in shaking hands.
“Mr. Cransley has taken his turn, so now it falls to you.”
The faces of the other players were smooth andshiny, their expressions ranging from curious to mildly impatient. She glanced back down at the cards, but they made no sense, just a collection of meaningless symbols, and so she laid them down upon the baize-covered table.
“I forfeit.” Without looking back, she rose and walked toward the window, where rain hammered furiously as if it was attempting to pierce the glass.
Laughter from the table was as sharp as the rain, and to remain in this parlor, with these people, pretending that Dom’s words hadn’t cut down to the core of her being—it was impossible. Restless, she stalked from the chamber.
She drew up short when she nearly collided with Celeste.
“No taste for cards tonight?” Willa asked, glancing back toward the parlor.
“Other games interest me more,” her brother’s wife answered. She started to move past Willa, her eyes focused somewhere deeper in the house, but Willa clasped Celeste’s wrist, stopping her.
“How often have you heard Dom apologize?” she asked, though it was more of a plea than a question.
A corner of Celeste’s mouth curved up. “You’d have a better chance of extracting an apology from the storm outside than getting my brother to admit he was wrong. Although,” she added thoughtfully, “when he learned that I had been miserable pretending to be a perfectly genteel woman, anddidn’t want to be engaged to Lord Montford, he was very upset, and remorseful.”
“Then he’s sincere,” Willa pressed, “when he says he’s sorry?”
“I take it that Dom has apologized,” Celeste said approvingly. “Good. He ought to. What he did was horrendous and worthy of an epic groveling. But you don’t know whether or not to accept his apology?”
“A few words aren’t going to suture the wound,” Willa said grimly.
“They won’t,” her sister-in-law agreed. “Nor should they.”
“That is,” Willa added quickly, “if he wounded me. Which he didn’t. Only my pride.”
Celeste regarded her carefully. “So, it was only injured pride that made you flee to the Continent for nearly a year. Only hurt dignity that drained the blood from your face when you saw him here. Or caused you to destroy some porcelain. Or stare at him throughout dinner as though the very sight of him was a torment and a blessing.”
“It might’ve been more than a blow to my pride,” Willa said, grudgingly. “I thought...” She swallowed hard. “It doesn’t matter what I thought.”
“It’s all right.” Celeste’s words were gentle. “There’s no shame in admitting that you cared for him. Perhaps you still do.”
“I don’twantto,” Willa muttered.
Celeste said softly, “I told my heart over and over again that Iwasn’tgoing to fall in love with Kieran. But it didn’t obey me, and did exactly as it desired.”
