Page 94 of The Duke
She and hope had not often been friends. Especially not when it came tohim.
“Pull that trigger and make sure you don’t miss. Because if you do it’ll be the end of you,” Cole warned Rathbone, not one to be held or threatened by any means, even by a lawman.
Gathering the vestiges of her strength and the last of her tattered dignity, Imogen stepped forward. “There’s no need for violence, Inspectors. He didn’t… this isn’t what it looks like.”
Rathbone finally lowered his weapon, his gaze bouncing back and forth with shrewd curiosity. “You want us to… leave you two alone?”
Imogen didn’t dare look at Cole. Couldn’t bring herself to meet whatever terrible censure she’d see in his eyes. “Perhaps you can escort His Grace out,” she whispered, suddenly exhausted.
“Don’t bother.” Cole’s imperious tone froze whatever warmth she had left for him. “I’m already gone.”
And in a few furious strides, he was, leaving her alone with two very uncomfortable men.
“Begging your pardon, Countess, but… is there someone you’d like me to be fetching for you? Your sister, perhaps, or your ma?” O’Mara asked.
“No, thank you, Inspector. I just… need to go to bed. This will all be sorted in the morning.”
The two men respectfully averted their eyes as she wrapped her nightgown around her, and marched between them with her chin as high as she’d seen the queen hold hers not long ago. The tears fell faster in the darkness of the stairway as she trudged in the wake of a memory she once treasured. Cole’s soporific words spoken in gentle intimacy a lifetime ago.
“You are a rare find, Ginny.”
“How’s that?”
“A genuine person in a world full of deceit… Is Ginny your real name?”
“No,”
“You’ll have to tell me what it is.”
***
She had done, after he’d fallen asleep, but that mattered little now. It mattered not at all, in fact. A chill that had nothing to do with her state of undress skittered through her, and for the first time since he’d returned, Imogen felt a true sense of loss and loneliness. Her sumptuous home felt too big and too empty, and her usually swollen heart felt too small and too… empty. Emotions battled questions that cried for answers she couldn’t summon. It hurt to breathe.
Perhaps he’d been right, and this was inevitable. Out of all the horrific possibilities she’d imagined might arise in the aftermath of the revelation of her deception, there was one consequence she hadn’t at all prepared for.
The death of hope.
Since the night they’d met, made love, and separated, she’d carried this strange and feeble hope with her in regard to the Duke of Trenwyth. It sustained her while he’d been missing, and had been whispered in her every prayer for his safety. It had flared when he’d landed in St. Margaret’s, miraculously given into her care.Her,who cared more than anyone at the time would have guessed.
She’d carried a tiny ember of it with her, she realized in these several months since his return. Tending it gently, giving it fuel with willing breath. Perhaps he’d overcome his antagonism toward her. Maybe, if she was patient enough, if she was kind enough, if she was bright and witty and beautiful enough… he’d forget Ginny. He’d forget his imperious arrogance. He’d forget his fury. His pain. His loss and loneliness.
And fall in love with her… with Imogen.
Because she’d been in love with him all along. She understood that now. Love had allowed her to be gentle when he was stern. To forgive his cruelty. To understand his pain.
But she’d been a fool to nurse that hope. If a man, especially a man of his birth, wanted a woman, it was for what she could be to him. What she could provide for him while he chased his purposes and passions. A home. An heir. Solace, sex, and sustenance. These were the singular duties of a woman.
But what if a woman had purpose and passions? What if she wanted to reach beyond her dictated place behind her lord and step forward on her own path? History was littered with heroes who had a destiny, who vanquished their foes through means fair or foul.
The man she loved had been determined to be her foe. That was her tragedy. He’d longed for Ginny, but he’d constantly rejected Imogen.
In his arrogance, he’d been certain that offering a place at his side as duchess could only be the culmination of her every desire. That recanting the chance at his hand in marriage was the worst punishment.
It wasn’t. Imogen’s heart was broken, but she’d meant every word she’d said to him.
She had a purpose. She had passion. She was going to live her life fighting against the vice and villainy that plagued the women and children of her city. That had once taken everything from her. Not in the courts or Parliament as Dorian and Farah did. Not with the law, like Morley.
She’d give the only thing she had. Money, kindness, and care. She’d create the havens that she could and gift those that were searching something they’d lost. Somethingshe’dlost.
