Page 72 of The Pleasures of Passion
“Reynold wagered three thousand pounds on a game of piquet in exchange for Lord Hartley wagering a piece of information Reynold wanted very badly.”
“What piece of information?”
Oh, dear, now shereallywished she hadn’t mentioned it. “Um. Where you were in Spain.” She gave a shuddering sigh. “You see . . . it turns out that when Reynold went to London, it wasn’t because he had a burning need to gamble. He went because . . . well . . . he was looking foryou.”
Fourteen
For a moment, Niall could only gape at her. “He was looking forme?” he repeated inanely. “But what . . . why . . .” He dragged a hand through his hair. “How the bloody hell did your husband evenknowabout me? Did you tell him?”
“Of course not.” She wrapped her arms over her waist. “He found out on his own.”
“How? And how much did he find out? That we’d been in love? And had planned to marry?”
“Everything. He . . . saw some sketches of you that I kept in the bottom of my trunk.”
That arrested Niall. “You kept sketches of me.” Which said more than anything that she’d never stopped caring about him. Missing him.
“A few,” she admitted. “So he demanded to know who the sketches were of, and I . . . told him. I made it sound as if our association was casual, that we were merely friends, but as you know, I’m not very good at—”
“Subterfuge, yes,” he bit out. “You’ve made that abundantly clear.”
“That’s why my answer didn’t satisfy him. He kept badgering me for the truth, and I kept sticking to my story. So one day while I was shopping with Delia, he turned my bedchamber upside down looking for something to confirm his suspicions, and he found the sealed letter I’d wanted your father to send to you.”
“You kept that, too,” Niall said, incredulous.
“It was my reminder not to . . . trust my heart again.” She glanced away. “Reynold opened and read it. So he learned everything. How I’d begged you to return. How I . . . felt about being forced to marry him. The truth that I’d struggled so hard to hide from him.”
“Oh, God,” Niall said hoarsely.
He actually felt a bit sorry for Trevor. He could only imagine howhewould have reacted to such a letter. To have this gorgeous angel telling him that he’d always been second choice would have destroyed him.
Then again,hewould never have forced into marriage a woman who didn’t want him.
“We had a horrendous row over it,” she admitted. “He demanded to know what had happened between you and me, and I had no choice but to tell him.”
“And as a result he ran off to London in search of me?”
“Not right away, no.” She picked nervously at her pelerine. “He brooded for a few weeks first. I couldn’t bear it. So I sat him down and pointed out that you had betrayed me, that I no longer cared about you, that I’d lost all feeling for you years ago. I told him he and Silas were my whole life, and that wasn’t ever going to change. I honestly thought that was the end of it.”
Niall shook his head. “Did you tell him you loved him?”
Her face closed up. “No. But he knew I didn’t from the day he proposed. I made that very clear.”
“Back then, it wouldn’t have mattered to himwhatyou said. No doubt he’d kept hoping he could change your mind.” The way Niall kept hoping that he could convince her to take a chance on him again. “But after he learned about me and you didn’t profess your love forhim,no amount of proclaiming that you were done with me would have convinced him I was out of your life for good. He knew he would never have your heart.”
“He already had the rest of me! And it wasn’t as if I could have . . . taken up with you again if you’d returned. Plus, there was no chance of your returning, which I also made perfectly clear.”
God, she understood men so little. “Sweeting, what he heard was, ‘If my former love were here, I’d be with him, but he’s not, so I’m content to be with you.’ ”
“But how could he think that?” she cried. “I told him I hated you!”
“You didn’t get rid of your sketches of me. Or the letter.” Which gave him hope. “Somewherein your heart you kept me close, and I daresay he realized that. Hate is the flip side of a coin to love. Indifference is just . . . indifference. And death to a marriage.”
Hurt and guilt shone in her face. “I couldn’t help that I didn’t love—”
“I’m not saying it’s your fault. Just that knowing you didn’t lovehimprobably made hearing about me even worse. Because it meant there was a reason you couldn’t love him. A reason you would never change your mind.”
She turned to walk blindly down the hill. “I thought he accepted that our marriage was the only thing I allowed myself to care about. He never let on that he didn’t believe me.”
