Page 91 of His Wife, the Spy
There once was a man with a daughter,
Whom he led like a lamb to the slaughter.
And though she did bleat,
He swore she was sweet;
But pity the young man who caught her.
The woman in front of him was no lamb to be led anywhere, but she also wasn’t aware of how magnificent she was. And she didn’t know him at all.
“After everything that has passed between us, that’s what you think of me?” He kept his tone quiet. He didn’t want to fight with her, but he wouldn’t let her assumptions stand. “That I would be callous enough to do that to you?” He walked to thedoor between their rooms, careful not to shuffle, though he felt ancient and frail. Today had drained him of everything he had.
On his side of the threshold, he turned back to face her. It felt wrong to see her this way, to leave her alone. “I’m sorry that your father has disappointed you, Annabel, but I’m not him.” His fingers tightened on the latch. “Not everyone in your life wants to hurt you.”
He made himself close the door, and he made himself stay quiet when the floorboard creaked as she approached—only to twist the key in the lock.
And later, as he lay in the dark in his cold bed and stared at his boring ceiling, he balled his fingers into fists as his wife cried herself to sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The London gardenwas too small to provide much of a distraction, so Annabel took her time in examining each stalk before pruning it and second-guessing whether a weed was actually a weed. However, pondering every decision allowed her to considereverydecision.
Not everyone in your life wants to hurt you.
Yet he’d still been in Claudette’s room. The look on his face, like a child caught sneaking a forbidden treat, had flayed her heart to pieces.
“It’s your own fault,” she muttered as she uprooted a weed, ferreting out all the sprawling tendrils to prevent its return. “You told him to keep going as he had been, and he has.”
She stripped off her gloves to dig her fingers in the dirt. It was easier to follow the roots’ paths and determine if they’d tangled with useful plantings. “And his enjoying you in bed doesn’t prevent him from enjoying other women.” She dug under the errant plant and lifted it away, shaking the usable dirt back into the hole. “Or vice versa.”
The weed landed in the bucket with a softwhump. “If peers with mistresses ceased sleeping with their wives, there would be no one in Lords by now.”
Jasper’s pale face had been grooved with pain, and he’d held himself awkwardly. She’d had a doll once that, if twisted, lost its head. She’d treated it with care, cradling it in her arms. She’d wanted to do the same with her husband.
I overdid it while you were gone.
He and Claudette had been apart for months.
Not everyone sought to hurt people, but they were hurt all the same.
She moved to the next rosebush, dead-heading the faded blooms and checking for pests. They had been honest about their reasons for marriage, and he’d lived up to his side of their bargain. Fairness demanded she do the same.
But she loved him too much to knowingly share him with someone else. She would have to make plans to leave. Annabel blinked to clear her vision before she lifted her clippers to a stray stem.
“Lady Ramsbury?”
Annabel dropped her tool, and the stem whipped forward, driving the thorn into her thumb. The tears she’d been ignoring trickled down the edge of her nose. “Blast.”
“I am sorry to interrupt,” Claudette said in her soft voice with its musical lilt. “If you would prefer, I can wait inside until you are finished.”
I would prefer you go back to bloody Paris and wait until hell freezes over. Annabel paused. None of her etiquette lessons had taught her to how to behave when having her husband’s mistress as a houseguest. Spiteful and hateful would be easy, but looking herself in the mirror would be difficult.
The Warren family was always kind to others, and she was a Warren for a little while yet.
“It’s too lovely this morning to stay inside.” Annabel looked up to the sky, noticing the sunshine for the first time. “There is coffee on the table.” She motioned toward the tree where Barnes had insisted on setting the service.
“Will you join me?” Claudette asked. She sounded impossibly young.
