Page 57 of Romancing the Rifleman
Diana pulled the pencil and paper she had brought for that purpose from her pocket and began copying out the letter.Harrington stood guard, his thoughts flying.Their entire mission had been for a fucking pastry recipe.Which meant Diana had married him fornothing.
He’d thought he was doing something important for once in his life.He should’ve known better.When had anything he’d ever tried to do gone right?He should’ve known it would be a complete fucking waste.
Of course, Diana could annul the marriage.He wouldn’t try to stop her.But what if word got around?Her brother would never turn her out, but the world would regard her as ruined.He felt ill, thinking that society might scorn her, and twice as ill at the prospect of her resenting him for her misfortune.
“Done!”Diana whispered from across the room.She rose from the chair and quickly restored the table to its original appearance, positioning the letter as she’d found it.
Shaking himself, Harrington pressed his ear against the door.“It’s clear,” he whispered.“Let’s make a dash for it.”
They slipped from the room and scurried down the back stairs, encountering no one on their way to their rooms.Once inside, Diana brushed a quick kiss across Harrington’s lips.“I should go and join the other ladies before they remark upon my absence.I’ll see you at luncheon.”
She hurried out again, leaving Harrington alone with his thoughts.
Chapter30
That night, when Diana entered Harrington’s chamber, she found him sipping a brandy in his dressing gown, staring out the window into the night.
She came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his chest.“We did it.”
He responded with a humorless laugh.
Diana pursed her lips.The men had gone fishing all afternoon, and she hadn’t been seated near him at dinner, so they hadn’t had the chance to talk since this morning.She had been expecting to find him in a jubilant mood as they’d managed to find the proverbial needle in the haystack.
Instead, he seemed dour.
Taking him by the shoulder, she turned him to face her.“What’s wrong?”
His eyes were rueful.“I was just thinking that, in light of what the letter turned out to be, you must regret it.”
Diana did not follow.“Regret what?”
He stepped around her, pacing toward the sideboard.“Marrying me,” he said, refilling his glass.“It seemed like an important matter of state when you made the decision.But it turned out to be a recipe for Swedish sweet rolls.”
Never had the wordsSwedish sweet rollsbeen spoken with such derision.But at least she understood the reason for his dark mood.
Truly, he was as thick as the mud in Cornwall.She had been the one to suggest they marry!She came to his room every night, eager for them to touch and pleasure one another.And she had made it clear that, if not for the vow forced out of him by her brother, she would want to consummate the marriage, making their union irrevocable.How was it possible that he had not figured out that she cared for him?
And yet, by all appearances, he had not.She crossed to him again, taking the glass from his hand before he could raise it to his lips and setting it back on the sideboard.“Harrington.Look at me.”She waited until he complied with guarded eyes, then took his hand, squeezing it.“I regret nothing.”
He blew out a breath, looking away.“You can’t mean that.”
“And yet, I do.”She tugged him toward the bed and forced him to sit.“I did want to discuss our marriage, though.We need to talk about what we’re going to do once we get back to London.”
He squinted at her.“Do you mean in terms of signing the annulment papers?”
She let out a frustrated huff.“No, I do not mean in terms of signing the annulment papers!I do not want to obtain an annulment, so put that thought out of your head.I mean in terms of where we’re going to live.”
“I’m staying at Astley House.”He cast his eyes toward the ceiling.“Do you see?I don’t even have a house!I can’t properly support a wife, I?—”
Diana cut him off.“I will stay there as well.”
He cast her a skeptical look.“You wouldn’t want to stay at my parents’ house.”
She scooted closer to him.“I don’t see anything improper about it.Your brother, Edward, and his wife, Elissa, stay at Astley House when they are in Town, do they not?”
He screwed up his face.“That’s different.Edward’s the heir.It will be his house one day.Besides, they have one of the larger bedrooms on the first floor.I’m crammed into a tiny room on the second floor.”
The words,I would sleep in worse than that, if it meant I could be with you, were there on her lips.But she sensed he was not yet ready to hear that, so she said, “It will do.At least, until we can arrange to rent a house of our own.”
