Page 78 of Desperate Proposals
“You?” Marcus said, with not a small amount of skepticism.
Her eyes snapped back to him, deathly cold.
“You think me incapable?”
“It’s nothing to do with what I think,” he said, softening his tone. “It’s what is logically the soundest course of action. Which is to remove Mrs. Wolfenden from the source of the temptation.”
“Logically sound course of action?” she repeated in disbelief. “Mr. Hartley. This is my family. I know her, and you do not.”
“And do you know this Wright?” he growled, angry now. “Even as you claim him to be above reproach, as he carries on with the widow of his former employer?”
“My father is his employer,” she interjected. “Never my brother.”
But Marcus was not done.
“You think because Mrs. Wolfenden is silly and your butler appropriately subservient that there’s no world in which he might have encouraged these attentions and allowed her to compromise herself?”
Marcus was seething now, picturing the faces of the many women who had sought him out over the years, the consequences of their past recreational activities weighing heavily on their bodies and minds, and indeed, on their very lives. He could see the fear in their eyes, the shame in their hunched shoulders.
Evelyn’s lashes fluttered, but she remained still, her shoulders squared, hands folded in her lap as if in challenge:I will not lose this.
“Well. You may have nothing to say to that, no worldly experiences of which to speak, but trust me in that I’ve had more than enough to know what’s afoot here, and what shall come to pass without intervention.”
“I am not—”
“Think back to when we first met,darling wife.” The last words came out as a taunt.
He instantly regretted it, for she reared back as surely as if he’d shouted at her.
“I… I apologize—” he stuttered.
She would not have it.
“As I said.” She made a show of smoothing her skirts, avoiding his gaze. “I know my family. You do not. In fact, I would surmise that you know them as little as you know the rest of your constituency.”
Now she looked up, her eyes blazing, her lovely mouth pressed into a hard line.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Ignorant of our goat willow, our sad cakes. Why, it’s no surprise I could not place you when first we met, since you seem so keen to mention the occasion. I did not know you because you have no local presence or connections to speak of. Why, you spend nearly the entire year in London! Do not correct me, for I asked Mrs. Gill. She told me.”
Marcus swallowed, stunned by both the accuracy of the charge and the venom with which it was leveled.Et tu, Mrs. Gill?Betrayed by his own housekeeper.
They rambled on down the road, the sounds of hoofbeats and the rattling carriage filling the silence between them.
Milburga sneezed.
“You have my measure, it seems,” Marcus said flatly.
Something in Evelyn’s face faltered for a moment as her brows drew together. But just as quickly as it had come, she schooledthe woeful expression away. Once more she tipped her chin upward as she looked at him askance.
“Very well,” he said, turning to look out the window. “I shall leave for London tomorrow. Alone. I’ll expect you to have everything well in hand when I return.”
“Which will be…?”
Her voice was smaller than he’d ever heard it, and damn it but his heart tightened. Still, he could not summon the words to apologize, not when she’d struck such a low blow.
“Who’s to say?”
