Page 83 of Romancing the Rifleman
This was unequivocally true.During his time at university, Trevissick had kept not one mistress, but two—a pair of buxom blondes who reportedly liked to doeverythingtogether.Trevissick had been at Cambridge, but the rumors had reached Harrington and his friends at Oxford, where the duke had been the envy of every student, most of whom couldn’t afford more than a half-hearted tug job from their bedmaker once a fortnight.If there was anyone who could rival Harrington in terms of depravity, it was Marcus Latimer.
When he didn’t respond, Diana added, “I’m sure the same thing could also be said about your friend, Henry, who is now married to your sister.And yet, you seemed pleased about that match.Why are you so willing to overlook his past transgressions, yet so severe upon yourself?”
“Because I’m worse than Henry,” he blurted.
“How so?”Diana asked softly.
His neck felt hot and itchy because they had veered alarmingly close to the truth.How had Diana maneuvered him so adroitly?“I just… am.”
Her eyes sharpened to diamonds.“You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“I can’t.”His voice came out gruff, and he found that he was blinking rapidly.Was this it?The moment his marriage fell apart?And not even an hour after Diana told him she loved him.That was just his fucking luck…
Diana’s voice was surprisingly gentle as she said, “You can.In fact, you need to.”He tried to look away, but she ducked her head, scooting into his field of vision.“Because we need to trust one another, Harrington.What kind of marriage would we have if we can’t do that?”
He tried, and failed, to make his voice light.“One like the vast majority of theton?”
She shook her head.“That’s not the kind of marriage I want.”
He could feel sweat dripping down his collarbone.This was it, then.There was no getting out of it now.He was going to have to tell Diana the truth, going to have to see the disdain in her eyes, the derision.His happy little idyll was coming to an end.How the fuck could he even explain it?
That was when he recalled that Diana’s brother had the same book of pornographic prints as him, and that she had perused it.If she had seen the particular print he liked best… at least it would be a starting point in trying to explain.
“You know that book of prints of your brother’s?”he said in a clipped voice.“The one that shows couples in different poses?”
Her eyes were steady on his.“Yes.”
“Some of them are… pretty bad.”This seemed to be as much as he could muster.
Diana’s eyes flared with comprehension.“And you are trying to tell me that one of those prints shows something you like.”
“Yes,” he said, his voice as gruff as scouring paper.
Her eyes were stern.“Which one?”
Panic rose in his throat.“I… I can’t tell you that.”
She pressed his hand so hard it hurt.“Which.One?”
Fuck.As if he could deny her anything when she was giving him that look.
He squeezed his eyes shut.“There’s one that shows a man on all fours.And his lover is”—his mouth had gone dry, but he somehow forced the words out—“spanking him.With a birch.”He hung his head.“That’s it.That’s what I like.I’m… depraved.Disgusting.Horrible,” he added weakly.
“Harrington Astley!”Diana released his hand, and he felt the sofa cushions shift beside him as she stood.
It was as bad as he’d thought.She couldn’t even bear to be near him.He ran a hand across his face and realized it was trembling.
Her voice was sharp.“Look at me.Now!”
Terrified, he opened his eyes to find her glowering at him, her hand on her hip.
Her eyes were furious as she said, “Is that all?”
Chapter43
Harrington blinked at his wife, certain he had misheard.
“Is… that all?”he repeated, waiting for her to correct him.
