Page 148 of Pride: The Rogue
“It is just,” she wandered on slow, deliberate, graceful steps toward Latimer. “What I should have said is that Miss Lovelace isgone.”
Latimer stared at the duchess.
“Gone?” he echoed dumbly, his voice queer to his own ears.
She nodded. “Gone.”
Latimer shook his head, but when that did nothing to clear the fog, he rubbed his fingertips against his temples. “What do you mean, gone?”
“Gone,” she repeated, as gleeful as a devil seen stealing souls during a Sunday sermon. “As in, she is not here, Mr. Latimer. As in, she departed.”
A peculiar droning like a hornet’s nest that had been kicked loose inside his brain hummed between his ears.
When he spoke, his voice came muffled from all that humming in his head. “Where?”
“I’m afraid I cannot say,” she demurred.
The respirations of his breathing grew jagged, shallow. “You can’t? Or you won’t?”
“I’m afraid I cannot say because I do not know the lady’s destination. What I do know about Miss Lovelace is that she requested I see her carriage readied, and given she was my guest and not a child, I did as she bade.”
Latimer took a step back, and then another. His mind clouded; he stopped in his tracks and did a small circle where he stood.
Except, he still couldn’t get his bearings.
She’d left because of me.From seeing the level of violence I’m capable of, she’d run. Or what if it was not that? What if there had been another reason to drive her from this place and the dead of night?
The questions continued coming, all with no answer.
A queasy feeling settled in his chest. “Why did she go?” he whispered.
“I believe that should be apparent, no, Mr. Latimer?”
Now she was asking questions.
On the heel of that, his mind raced, and the tightening in his chest grew more vicious, more suffocating so that even getting even breaths into his lungs proved to be an unconquerable chore.
Latimer took several furious steps towards her, and the duchess retreated until her back collided with Livian’s door.
“What did you say to her, Your Grace?” he hissed. “What did you do?”
“How dare you!” she exclaimed. “You dare ask me what I did? You presume I’m in some way the one who hurt her? How about you look no further than yourself, Mr. Latimer?” she said with icy vitriol.
Latimer staggered back, and the duchess took advantage of having thrown him off kilter.
“You, Mr. Latimer.” She spoke in a quiet, controlled whisper. “Do you take me for some kind of fool? Do you believe the minute I saw your face when she first walked in the room and her response that I didn’t ascertain exactly what had happened between the two of you at some point? No, you both gave yourselves away countless times in a short time.” She snorted. “And while you are in my own household, here to court me, no less.”
Bloody hell. “I didn’t intend to hurt you—”
She snorted. “Do you truly believe I’m one who could be wounded?” Genuine amusement filled her voice. “You know my past as much as I know yours. I ended up married to the debauched Duke of Argyll. I lost the love of my life. My father was a debaucher who raped innocent young girls. And yet you flatter yourself into thinking I care one way or another that you, a stranger I just met, are taking your pleasure with other women.” The duchess shook her head. “No, Mr. Latimer,” she said, her voice hushed. “Youare the one who toyed with an innocent lady’s affection.”
Dumbfounded, Latimer shook his head. “I didn’t—”
“Didn’t you?” she interrupted sharply. “What did you expect after taking Miss Lovelace’s virtue? Did you truly believe she was any match for your skill and experience with a woman?”
“I…” He tried to speak; his voice came from a distance.
“You didn’t seduce her, Mr. Latimer?” She winged up an eyebrow. “Or you didn’t set out to seduce her? For those are two very different things—bothof which, ultimately mean the same thing.”
