Page 26 of The Seductive Love of a Lady
‘I care,’ Marlow answered, his voice low and threatening. ‘And Mary cares. You will have her ostracised. You are hurting my daughter.
‘Mary, come home with us.’ Marlow’s voice became soft and understanding. ‘We should not have let this happen. This is enough. We will protect you.’
From what?From me!
The wind blew out from the sails of Drew’s anger. This was another moment of choice: her family or him. Drew’s jaw locked hard.
Her hand held his more firmly. ‘No, Papa, Andrew and I are going home. Do not worry. I will call at John’s tomorrow.’
Relief raced beneath his skin, as cold as ice, through blood and bone and sinew. But it was too late for her to cling to him now, she had torn his heart in two. He had turned to stone inside.
Her father sighed.
‘My lady.’ A footman brought Mary’s cloak.
Her mother took it and lay it on Mary’s shoulders, while Drew held her hand as though he were drowning in a swelling sea and Mary was driftwood. The pain from his rib, he realised now as it was no longer masked by anger, was excruciating. He could barely breathe as they turned to the door.
‘Tomorrow…’ her father said, as though he would try to persuade her to leave again tomorrow.
Drew knew, now, she would not leave. She would be like his mother, stay for the sake of appearances when there was no love – and be unfaithful. He was not good enough – he was notlovable. She would turn to other men for love, men who were more like the members of her family, like Peter, and Drew would go mad with jealousy.
A shiver ran up his spine as they walked along the street.
A hansom carriage waited on a far corner. Drew raised his hand, beckoning to the driver. ‘The Albany,’ he called up their destination and opened the door for Mary.
11
The carriage rumbled, creaked and bounced over uneven cobbles, the horses’ iron shoes ringing on the London stone.
Mary couldn’t think of anything to say. Her husband had stormed out of their rooms, then stormed into the Caldecotts’ ballroom with the force of a hurricane. Now it felt as though she were sitting in the eye of the storm. He had neither spoken nor moved since he sat beside her. He sat with the ankle of one leg resting on the other knee, his elbow on the shallow ledge of the carriage window, and he looked out, his eyes focusing on nothing.
Rain began striking the window and the carriage roof in a hard pitter-patter. She looked at the drops of rain landing on the pane of glass on her side.
She should never have made him go to his parents. This was not anger, it was pain. She had wanted to understand all of him, and, oh, how she understood now. He said in the beginning that he did not know what love was. No, he had never been loved, nor loved, until she fell in love with him and he fell in love with her.
Then she had called him a liar…
She sighed.
He turned his head and his gaze towards her.
His observation made her skin tingle, but she did not look back at him.
The first time she met him, she saw the dangerous secrets in his eyes. But now she could see through him, she knew he had been longing, and hoping, to be welcomed and liked. When he was afraid of rejection, he was at his most dangerous.
‘Don’t pity me!’Those had been his last words before he left this afternoon.
She did not want to pity him, she just wanted to love him – and to be loved by him. But the silence between them was a wall she had no idea how to scale. His pain was a fortress. All she could do was wait for his defences to fall again.
The silence continued when they reached The Albany and climbed the stairs to their rooms. When he closed the apartment door, she told him, ‘I will retire,’ and went into the bedchamber.
He followed. ‘I will undo the buttons at your back.’
‘Thank you.’
When the buttons were freed, he left the room.
She heard him pour a drink in the sitting room, as she undressed and changed into her nightdress.
