Page 78 of An Affair with a Notorious Heiress
Another clearing of his throat, a straightening of his shoulders before turning back to her and giving her his full attention. He looked at her squarely, more squarely than he’d ever done when they were married. “You did. I was a cad. Weak. Caring only for my own happiness—reaching for it and yet it was always beyond my grasp. I suspect if I had devoted myself to you that I might have come to love you in time.”
If he thought he was making her feel better, he was gravely mistaken. She had an urge to make his right eye match his left.
“I don’t suppose you want to give it another go.”
Her unexpected bark of laughter was loud and harsh. Abrupt and forceful enough to cause an ache in her chest. “No. Dear God, no.”
“I didn’t think so but I thought nothing lost in asking.”
Except maybe a bit of his pride. She rather hoped so. Not very charitable of her, but he had managed through his selfishness to ruin her life.
“Since the discovery of you with the footman I’ve not spoken very highly of you,” he said. “That will cease. You’re not deserving of it.”
“Why the change of heart?”
“Rexton questioned why you might turn to another man. I am forced to admit that I might have played a role in your misbehavior. I do wish, however, that you had traded up.”
“At the time, I rather felt that I had.”
He blanched. “I deserved that cutting remark, I suppose.”
“You broke my heart, Downie. Yes, my mother wanted me to marry someone titled, but don’t you think if that was what mattered to me, I’d have gone with a duke?”
Another sigh, another study of his shoes. Finally, he met her gaze again. “Should our paths cross again in a social situation, rest assured that I shall be cordial.”
“I shall reciprocate.” Although she couldn’t imagine any social situation where they’d cross paths.
“Very good.” He settled his hat on his head. “Good day to you, Mathilda.”
He’d taken only three steps from her before she called out, “Downie?”
He faced her.
She damned her inability to be cruel. “I only ever kissed the footman.”
He blinked, opened his mouth, closed it, blinked again. “You didn’t deny having an affair.”
“I wanted a divorce more than I wanted a sterling reputation.” She’d been wilting like flowers left without water.
He chuckled low. “Well played, Mathilda. I’m afraid, though, m’dear that I won’t be striving to setthatrecord straight. It might make me appear more the fool.”
With that, he walked away. She didn’t need him to set the record straight. She was divorced. Nothing was going to change that or the shame that went with it.
Chapter 17
A week later, without thought, Tillie periodically turned the pages in the book she held in her lap, striving to give the impression that she was lost in the world the author created when in fact she was very much aware of every breath, sigh, and clink of teacup hitting saucer that occurred within the parlor where she sat a discreet distance away from Gina and her gentleman caller—the Earl of Somerdale.
He’d been unable to contribute much to Gina’s treatise regarding Mr. Darcy’s true identity. Apparently, Somerdale was vaguely familiar with Jane Austen—enough to know she was in fact a female author—but confessed to not being a devotee of books. He preferred activities that pushed the limits of the body—such as rowing, riding, and dancing. With him, Gina would no doubt have an active life, but Tillie couldn’t imagine a duller sort than a man who did not exercise the mind with reading.
Still, the gent seemed somewhat devoted to Gina, describing his family’s estate as though he would one day share it with her. Gina seemed happy enough to be in his company, smiling broadly and never taking her gaze from him.
It was odd. Tillie had known from the beginning that Rexton wasn’t right for Gina. She felt the same way about Somerdale but she was having a devil of a time identifying exactly why she didn’t feel he suited. Perhaps the fault rested more with her, and her desire that Gina not settle on anyone too soon, for once her sister was situated, Tillie’s time with Rexton would come to an end. And she was enjoying him far more than she should.
Hearing the faint knocking echoing through the foyer, she fought to calm her accelerating heart. It could be another caller for Gina, but when the man strode into the parlor without being announced, she fairly leaped to her feet with gladness, then squelched her smile because it was intolerable to be so happy to see Rexton. Besides, Somerdale needed to be convinced that the marquess was here for Gina. To reveal otherwise, could undermine their plans.
Apparently Somerdale was convinced as he, too, jumped to his feet, evidently forgetting that he’d been successfully balancing a teacup and saucer on his thigh because both went flying. “My lord.” He glanced down, glanced up, looked at Gina, turned to the marquess, guilt washing over his features as though he’d been caught pilfering valuable family jewels. “My calling on Miss Hammersley is quite innocent, I assure you. I’m not attempting to steal her away—”
“It’s quite all right, Somerdale,” Rexton said. “I’ve not yet stated my intentions nor asked for her hand. Besides I appreciate competition.”
