Page 63 of Moonlight Encounter
Aidan groaned. “Mock her? What does that mean?”
And so, Smythe explained. How Gwen had left for school after her mother’s death, Smythe believing that being in the company of other women would be a blessing for a grieving girl. How she had her confidence shattered by her fellow students when they teased her mercilessly.
That Smythe had been unaware until she had permanently returned home two years later, because Gwen had tried to be stoic in the face of adversity and not trouble him while he worked to pick up the pieces after the death of his wife.
How those same students had become debutantes along with her, and Gwen had suffered their condemnation each Season.
“Gwen is a lovely girl, and the older members of thetonmostly adore her. When you told me you were overcome, and offered to marry her, I thought this was her chance to become the confident woman she was destined to be.” Smythe sat in his chair and watched Aidan, his blue eyes sad. “Did you lie? Did you marry her to investigate me?”
Aidan was pained to hear the troubles she had experienced. To realize how lonely his Venus had been until he had found her on the terrace. How devastated she must be to learn of his investigation and to believe he and his family had been disingenuous.
His hubris that he could manage the situation—manage her—when the time came to accuse Smythe was revealed to be pure idiocy. Gwen must be deeply wounded by his betrayal, believing that all the worst things she had been told about herself were proved true.
“Never. Gwen was an unintended consequence. The moment I laid eyes on her in your receiving line I was bewitched. Then, when she quoted Manilius, I knew that I had found the other half of my very soul.”
Smythe huffed. “Aristotle. You two are a perfect match.”
Aidan cocked his head. “I was thinking Plato, but certainly.”
“Are we settled, then? You believe I am not a killer?”
Aidan nodded. “I do not believe Gwen would lie, but I received confirmation that you are innocent from another whom I trust.”
“Then we find ourselves in a pickle. Gwen has developed a skeptical attitude regarding her attractions. You will find that it will not be easy to convince her of your sincerity after witnessing your accusation earlier.”
Aidan rolled his shoulders and slumped back into his armchair, trying to think what came next. He needed to winher trust back, and a simple apology would not be sufficient. “She is more than I deserve after all that has happened.”
Smythe shook his head. “That is the lot of all men, but you will have to find a way to make this up to her, son. She needs to know you are the man you presented yourself to be.”
CHAPTER 16
“Suffering becomes beautiful when anyone bears great calamities with cheerfulness, not through insensibility but through greatness of mind.”
Aristotle
Gwen caressed Buttercup on her lap in a state of numbed pain. Out in the hall, footsteps approached, coming to a halt outside her locked door.
“Gwen?”
It was him. Lord Aidan Abbott. Her husband. The man who now controlled her future while keeping dark secrets. He who had pretended she was beautiful while he plotted to destroy her father.
A tear slipped down her cheek. Gwen raised a hand to swipe at it. She had the urge to rise and let him in. To hear some sort of explanation, but she did not wish to see him yet. She needed to grieve for all the dreamsthat had been smashed, and she was not ready to talk. At some point she would need to pick up the pieces, but she had not the energy or will to do it yet.
“I am so sorry, Gwen. Please … let me in so we can discuss what happened.”
Buttercup raised her head to stare at Gwen with sad eyes, noticeably worried about her mistress, but Gwen shook her head as if to say, “Not today, girl. Not today.”
“Gwen?”
His deep voice sounded concerned, but it was probably a lie. Aidan was adept at deceiving her, it would seem. He was Hades with his poetic verses and lying lips. And she was the worst kind of fool for believing a man such as him could ever be attracted to a spotted giraffe.
Heavy footsteps announced his departure, and Gwen resumed watching the storm clouds from her chair. The somber mood outside perfectly matched how she felt inside.
Ever so slowly, in time with the beat of her broken heart, the storm gradually departed to reveal the oranges, purples, and pinks of a sunset, which was all the more dramatic for the puffy clouds lit by the sun’s dying rays.
There was another knock on the door, followed by someone turning the handle, but Gwen paid no mind. She had no thoughts in her head, and no words to say. Not to anyone.
“Gwendolyn Smythe, are you in there?”
