Page 90 of Madcap with a Marquess
“For God’s sake, Mother, that is quite enough.”
She drew in a sharp breath. At his using the Lord’s name in vain, no doubt, but he truly didn’t give a bloody damn anymore.
“Mr. Doherty is a nice, kind, hardworking man. His entire family is. I am going to speak with him, and you are going to go inside. And while you are at it, please collect yourself. You have been unpardonably rude to my wife.”
Rupert pivoted on his heel and made his way to Billy, his mother huffing in his wake.
46
Rupert
Rupertwalkedintohisbedchamber, his hand fumbling on the door handle in his haste to pull the door shut. It had taken much too long to calm his mother and get her settled in the private sitting room in the wing containing the family chambers. She was now contentedly embroidering with a steaming tea service and a servant at the ready, if it were to turn lukewarm.
His heart was an empty case in his chest. Billy had informed Rupert he had found Franny crawling on hands and knees out of the ravine. She was bleeding from the head, her clothes soaked through. Other than the head wound, she limped, but didn’t appear to have any other injuries. She had been thrown from Blaze.
He ran a hand over his face, pausing to press the backs of his fingers against his eyes. Bloody fucking hell. He had botched this dreadfully. He didn’t blame Franny one bit for her ire. Was it not the same conversation they had over and over again for the past fortnight? He changed himself to be what his mother wanted. He did as Mother said. Took her word as law.
He wasn’t his own man.
Until he married Franny. And she had somehow drawn out the man he truly was—wanted to be—accepted him with all his faults, appreciated parts of him he thought no one would.
He walked up to his chest of drawers and pulled open the top drawer. He would do better, had to do better. He took out the locket he had repaired for Franny. First, he had to convince his wife to talk to him. His hand closed around the locket, squeezing, transferring his heat to the smooth silver heart. He hoped the surprise he had for her would be enough.
Then he needed to talk to his mother. It was time to lay down some rules. His rules.
And after that? Perhaps he could finally start living, but only if Franny was by his side. Willingly,wantingto be by his side. Because truly, it would be nothing but an insipid imitation of a life without her.
47
Franny
“Leaveus.”Rupert’srichbaritone filled Franny’s bedchamber.
Her lady’s maid hastily finished running the brush through Franny’s hair and set it on the dressing table. Franny peered into the looking glass resting atop the table, saw Sally dip a quick curtsy, and make her exit. Lucky girl.
Franny blew out a breath, gathered her failing courage and turned to face her husband. Her chest constricted. She hated him in that moment. For being so blasted handsome. He stood there, his untamable curls falling over his brow, no coat to cover the wide breadth of his muscles. His pristine white cravat was intricately knotted between the lapels of his ivory silk waistcoat, which was embroidered with a barrel brown thread, the same exact color of his eyes. Eyes which were currently brimming with some fierce emotion. Guilt? Remorse? Whatever it was, it made her own heart ache even more.
He took hesitant steps toward her, the soft pad of his boots against the rug like a cannon-blast in the silent room.
“I summoned the doctor. He should be arriving soon.” His words trailed off.
“Mrs. Higgens has looked me over for now. Nothing of concern.”
“Would you allow me to look you over? To confirm for myself?”
No. Most definitelynot.If he touched her…the fragile pieces of herself she currently held together, no more secure than a tower of cards, would come crashing down.
“I am fine, Rupert.”
“You are not fine. You were limping dreadfully. And you probably worsened whatever injury you obtained in that show of defiance against my mother.”
Her spine hardened; the flames of her anger provided some much needed fuel. “It’s minor. I must have landed on it oddly when Blaze threw me. I would be caught dead before I showed an ounce of weakness in front of your mother. She may run roughshod over you, but I will always be my own keeper.”
His mouth tightened, nostrils flaring, but when he spoke, his voice came out composed.
“She does not runroughshodover me, Franny.”
“No? So, you just…didn’t want to search for me?”
