Page 75 of Tempting the Scoundrel
“I’ve known for some time now the kind of man I married.” She pressed her lips together and held up the letter from Miss Dawes. “I think you should see this. It’s the letter I received from my solicitor this morning.”
Nick took the page from her and began reading. Alexandra watched his expression, waiting for some change that might indicate his thoughts. But his mind was as closed to her as a locked door.
“I see,” he said, very softly, and handed it back.
He turned away from her and removed his coat, tossing the material to the floor. His shirt and trousers followed, then his small clothes, as he made his way across the room to the mosaic tiled water closet. Alexandra couldn’t help but stare. Nick was beautifully made. Muscular thighs, tapered waist, broad shoulders, strong arms. Golden skin stretched over muscle, with smatterings of scars across his back. Reminders of his brutal past.
Alexandra followed him. A bath had already been prepared in the gleaming copper tub, the steam rising. “Do you have nothing else to say?”
He lowered himself into the water. With a soft sigh, he tilted his head back and shut his eyes. “You could make a case for cruelty,” he said in that detached tone. “Perhaps you ought to do it before Gladstone reorganizes the court system, if you don’t wish to wait.”
All at once, Alexandra found herself furious. How easily he spoke the same suggestion Miss Dawes had made. Women who divorced for abuse found no safety in their own homes. Their husbands did not offer comfort, or affection, or even respect. They didn’t carry them to a bedchamber and offer to watch over their wives while they slumbered. Wives who divorced on grounds of cruelty did so because they were terrified.
“Cruelty,” she repeated, her lips flattening. Did he believe she thought so little of him that she’d fabricate such a claim?
“Yes, and why not?” His laugh was harsh. “Everyone in that courtroom, from the judge to the gawking audience, would believe any story you told them about me. Make me into a big enough villain and you might even gain their fickle sympathy.”
“Is that what you wish me to do?” Alexandra said, her voice sharp with fury. How dare he? “Lie and say you beat me? Threatened my life?”
“Are you worried over my reputation?” What a strange smile he had, so bitter. “You needn’t be. I have none to defend.”
“Yes, you do,” she snapped. “Here in the East End, you do.”
“Here in the East End,” he repeated, his voice some dangerous purr. “Where I killed a man mere hours ago.”
“A man who tortured you.”
“Since when did your opinion of me become so generous?” His mouth twisted. “It’s more generous than I deserve.”
“Listen to me, Nicholas. I will not stand in that courtroom and call you a monster. You may not have a care, but I do.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Say I committed adultery, then, if that lie will better ease your conscience. Isn’t that what toffs call asoft divorce?”
Once more, he had so easily reproduced Miss Dawes’ argument. Eight days ago, in her solicitor’s office, divorce on grounds of adultery had seemed the easy solution. After a separation of four years, many husbands and wives would have found another lover.
But like Alexandra, Nick had not strayed from their vows.
I consider you to be worth everything, he’d told her. Then why let her go so easily? Did he not wish to present his case? Make some argument for gathering the tattered remains of their marriage and attempting to stitch it back together?
“And you would mount no objection?” Alexandra tried to keep her voice calm, fearing he would hear it shake. “Not to any case I bring before the courts, no matter how much I embellish or how abhorrent it made you look? You would do nothing to fight it?” Nothing to fight forher?
Open your eyes, she wanted to say.Look at me.
But he only let out a breath and said, “No.”
Alexandra went over and kneeled beside the bathtub.There, she thought, when she noticed him tense. His hands betrayed him. He clutched the side of the tub with a hard grip, his knuckles white beneath the dried blood there.
“Look at me,” she said, reaching out to cup his cheek. As if he couldn’t help himself, he leaned into her touch, gently nuzzling her palm. “Nick. Look at me.” When his eyes opened, Alexandra found herself almost off-balance. No, he was not indifferent to Miss Dawes’ letter. He was not indifferent at all. “Do you wish to divorce?”
His expression gentled. Instead of answering, he asked, “What would you do, if you weren’t married to me? Would you wed someone else? Make plans?”
“Would that make your decision easier?”
Nick kissed her palm. “Tell me.”
Alexandra slid her thumb across his jaw. “After our marriage became public, I was . . . melancholy. James had been away on his honeymoon, and he seemed so happy in his letters. Richard, too, had found such bliss with Anne. There was a loneliness in knowing that my brothers were so content in their marriages whilst my own was a disaster. I began to make plans to travel.” She skated her fingertips down the line of his cheekbone. “With every terrible illustration of us in the dailies, I would immerse myself in descriptions of far off places where I could escape after our divorce was final. I even memorized my favorite passages from the guides.”
Nick brushed his lips against her wrist. “What was your favorite? Recite it for me.”
