Page 96 of Madcap with a Marquess
“You do not get to Rupert me. I have let you run roughshod over me for far too long. You have zero influence over me any longer. Tell me now. Was this the only time? Have you sent any other letters on my behalf?”
Good Lord. He was heavily involved in Parliament. He could only imagine the damage this woman could do forging his signatures. He closed his eyes. Isn’t that what she had already been doing? Manipulating him to champion her causes. To push for bills that supported her views. Views he’d always second guessed.
“No, of course not. Do not be so excitable. I was merely…guiding things along, as any caring mother would. I took action. I knew she would prey on your soft heart. You have always been much too naïve. I merely found us an out.”
“I don’t believe you,” he said flatly. “You may as well save your breath, because I won’t believe one word that comes out of your mouth. You are fortunate I cannot allow word of this to get out. I will not taint the Rutledge name. You say Franny deceived us? The only deception here was done by you.”
They studied each other. Silent.
Footsteps sounded behind him, and then Sanderson appeared next to Rupert. “You called, my lord?”
“Send word to my estate in Scarborough, Sanderson. The dowager has expressed her desire for an extended stay there.”
A sharp breath echoed through the room. “Rupert, darling. What has gotten into you? You would send your dear mama away? With my weak heart?” She lifted one hand to flutter above her chest. “I could pass any day, and you want to ship me off somewhere remote? Is this really how you want our last conversation to go? I know I have been hard on you. But it is only because I knew the potential that existed inside of you. I want the best for you. And, I may have made mistakes, but everything I have done, everything I do, is for you.”
He held up a hand, silencing her except for her wheezing echoing through the room. Fury festered in the depths of his chest as he stared blindly at the floor. How dare she try to make him feel guilty? He hated her for it. Because he did feel guilty, even though he knew he shouldn’t. He’d already lost his father. And this very well could be the last time he saw her. But what she had done was unforgivable.
“No,” he said softly. “This is not how I’d want our last conversation to go.” He lifted his gaze to hers. “But if this is our last conversation, that’s a weightyouwill carry. This is not my doing. It is yours.”
“You always spoke of how much you wished you could get out of the betrothal. That you feared she’d embarrass you,” she pleaded with him with her gaze, her eyes welling.
What an actress she was. He didn’t doubt for a second now that her little fainting spell from earlier was feigned. Her duplicity burned an acidic hole deep in his gut.
“Every interaction you had with that woman growing up always left you furious,” she implored. “You could not stand her, even as a child. Just before the wedding, you even told me you wished you could have chosen your own bride. That anyone else would have been better than her. I only did what you wanted.”
He barely prevented himself from covering his ears. She could not pin this on him. Could not twist it around to make him the villain. He may have voiced his frustrations about the betrothal over the years, but they were merely that—complaints about a less-than-ideal situation. But a voice whispered in his mind:If you had found this out before the marriage took place, you would have used it as your excuse to walk away.
“How can you put the blame on me when I was doing what you had always asked me to do?” she said, her words joining the mocking voice in his head.
His eyes flew wide as realization swept over him like an icy wave.Fucking Christ.This was what she had always done. Turned things around on him. Made him feel as though he was the one in the wrong. Her sickening manipulation. Every time he strayed too far from the path she had set out for him, in came the carefully constructed pleas to evoke remorse, settling the blame at his feet.
And he fell for it.
Every.
Bloody.
Time.
“You will be on your way as soon as a coach can be readied. You leave tonight. And that is all I will say on the matter.”
True fear settled over her features. It was about bloody time it registered that he was serious. Her days of controlling him,foolinghim, were over.
God, he was a blasted fool.
No longer.
“But… The sun has set. It is dangerous to travel at night. You wouldn’t want me to get set upon by highwaymen, would you? Don’t do something rash while angry, Rupert. At least wait until the morning. I am sure with a clear mind you will feel differently.”
“I have never seen things more clearly than I do right now. You fear the danger of traveling alone and at night? Perhaps you should have thought about that before you violated both the law and my trust. Before you tried to take the woman I love away from me. Because at that point, your welfare ceased to matter. You leave tonight.”
He turned to Sanderson. “My marchioness and I are for London first thing on the morrow. Ensure all our necessary items are packed and that the London house is alerted of our impending arrival. Take care to ensure she has everything she needs to stay comfortable on the ride with her injury. That will be all.”
“Yes, my lord.” Sanderson slipped from the room.
Rupert slowly walked up to his mother, every muscle protesting. He paused before her. She stared straight ahead, refusing to meet his gaze, sharp nostrils flaring, but chin still held high.
“It was all for naught,” he murmured. “No matter what comes to pass because of your treachery, one thing will never change. I will always stand by my wife.”
