Page 34 of The Seductive Love of a Lady
She had forced herself to smile through the goodbyes at John’s. She did not have the strength to smile any more.
Her aunt touched her shoulder. ‘My first marriage was not good; it was arranged and I had no family to turn to. I had to endure it; you do not. Do not spend your life tied up in a mistake. Walk away, with your head high. You can live with Uncle Robert and I in Yorkshire if you want to escape. He would not mind, you know he would not.’
‘What is this? A witches’ coven?—’
Mary looked up. She had not heard Andrew open the door.
‘But there are only two of you. You need three to turn me into a toad.’ He pulled his gloves off. ‘I presume,Iam the mistake.’ He held his gloves in a fisted hand as he stared at Mary. ‘Are you leaving me then?’ Accusation strengthened his pitch.
‘Lord Framlington.’ Aunt Jane stepped into battle.
Mary did not move. Let him rant, he was in the wrong, he had another woman.
‘If Mary leaves you, it is because you deserve it. You selfish, heartless man.’
His lips pinched together. At least he was trying to restrain his anger.
‘My niece is loved by her family! We will not let her suffer like this!’
Mary stood. This was enough, her head hurt too much to listen to them argue.
Andrew looked from her aunt to her, and the fight seemed to suddenly drop out of him. His shoulders and expression shifted from tense to slack.
‘I know you have—’ her aunt yelled.
Mary grasped her arm. ‘Aunt Jane, thank you for bringing me home. I will speak to you tomorrow.’ If anyone confronted him about his mistress it would be her, not her aunt.
‘If you are sure?’ She was flushed with anger and indignation.
‘I am.’ Mary’s voice held little conviction, her head hurt too much.
Andrew stepped out of the way so she could show Aunt Jane out. They kissed each other’s cheeks.
‘Goodbye,’ Mary said.
‘Good day, Lady Barrington,’ Andrew said, behind her. ‘It was good of you to call and beg my wife to leave me.’
Mary closed the door as her aunt walked away.
‘So, are you?’ Andrew faced her.
‘I hate you when you are like this.’ Mary said, ignoring the question and seeking the peace and silence of the bedchamber.
‘You are then… You are leaving me.’ He followed.
‘It is probably what you hope for.’ Her speech slurred as her vision became a screen of shifting coloured zigzag patterns. Her hand gripped the doorframe as they blinded her.
‘Hope for…’ He sounded confused.
‘You have pushed me away from the moment we wed.’ Her arm stretched out, her hand searching through the colours as she tried to reach the bed that she could not see, nausea rollingin her stomach. She felt hot, then cold and clammy. If she could just reach the bed and lie down.
‘Do they still think I was after your money?’
‘Were you not?’ Bitterness soured her voice as her fingertips found the bedpost. But it was too late. ‘I do not feel well. Andrew, I am going to vomit.’
The room tilted, lurching sideways, and everything went black. She hit the floor heavily and the contents of her stomach spewed from her throat.
The next thing she knew she was lying on the soft mattress not the floor, with the cool porcelain of a chamber pot on the bed beside her. But the zigzag colours were still dancing. ‘I cannot see,’ she sobbed, and then she retched and the pot was pressed closer so she could be sick into it.
