Chapter 23 #2
“Oh, I don’t h-h-h-h-have to, do I?” she mocked, grinning.
“You are ridiculous. Well, if you are determined to ruin yourself and make quite sure that you are never happy again, then go on. Marry him. You’ll spend the rest of your life fighting off endless mistresses and lovers.
The man is insatiable.” Her voice dropped as she added the last part, leaning forward with a nasty smile.
“Well, that is my c-concern, not yours,” Thalia managed.
Could she ask the modiste to make Emmeline leave? Probably not. Thalia might be a future duchess, but Emmeline looked as though she spent a great deal of money in modistes. It was never a wise idea to make anybody choose between you and somebody else.
It might not go the way you planned.
“Oh, not my c-c-c-concern, is it?” Emmeline snorted, tossing back her hair. “You are ridiculous.”
“I might say the same about you, Emmeline.”
Both women froze at the familiar, masculine voice.
Emmeline turned slowly, her face falling in almost comical horror. Christian stood there, watching her, a grim expression on his face.
“Your Grace,” she choked out.
“I thought I was clear with you, Miss Hartridge,” Christian drawled. He sounded almost bored, but there was still an angry edge to his voice. “I expected you to be polite to my betrothed. This does not sound polite.”
While she was still fumbling for words, he took a slow, thoughtful step forward.
“If you find that my demands upon you are too strict,” he murmured softly, dropping his voice, “then perhaps London is not the city for you after all. Shall I make arrangements for you and your family to retire somewhere less… taxing?”
She swallowed audibly. “N-No, Your Grace.”
“Ah. Who is stuttering now, Emmeline?” Christian glanced briefly at Thalia, letting his gaze rake over her. Then he turned back to Emmeline, who had gone as pale as bone. “You should leave now. And perhaps it would be best if you did not cross paths with my betrothed again. What do you say?”
Emmeline gave a hasty nod and bobbed a stiff curtsey, before hurrying out of the shop without another word. Christian watched her go, equal parts amused and angry.
“You didn’t have to d-do that,” Thalia muttered.
“Didn’t have to do what? Defend my bride-to-be?”
“No, I don’t require defending. I can hold my own against your tide of mistresses quite nicely, thank you.” She immediately regretted her words.
The shop went very quiet. The silence lasted for a split second before Laura and Daphne both began to talk at once, steering the modiste to a mannequin on the other side of the room.
This afforded Thalia and Christian a little privacy, or at least as much privacy as could be had in a shop like this.
His gaze bored into her, and she forced herself to return it squarely.
“I am a man with… an interesting past, I agree,” he stated. “But as for mistresses and lovers, there’s been none since I made your acquaintance.”
Why did that sound so good? It didn’t matter.
Thalia sniffed, looking away. “And you expect me to believe that?”
“I do, actually.”
“Well, am I meant to be touched?” she shot back. “Is this a gesture? I am not a fool. You’ll take mistresses after we marry because men are allowed to entertain themselves in that way, no matter how much humiliation and discomfort it brings to their wives.”
“Thalia…”
“And you didn’t even bother to speak to my stepmother about this,” Thalia burst out, suddenly angry. “She’ll read the news in the papers instead of hearing it from me. Jonathan won’t have thought to tell her.”
Christian ran a hand through his hair and stepped closer to her. “Thalia, I don’t want you to be in any doubt as to what sort of marriage this is going to be.”
“I can assure you I won’t be. I know you will not be faithful. I will not expect it, not for a moment. You do not like me, after all.”
Heat flared in his eyes. Before she knew what was going on, his arm shot forward, seizing her wrist and pulling her against him. She gave a stifled little yelp and hoped that the others had not noticed.
“Don’t ever say that to me again, Thalia.”
“Why should I not?” she shot back.
“Because you have no idea what you are doing to me. You drive me mad. It’s like I’m on fire all the time, even if it’s just a lazy flame licking up my spine. You have no idea of what I dream of doing to you.”
Her mouth had gone dry. With effort, Thalia pried her tongue off the roof of her mouth and managed to speak.
“It sounds to me like we could try for an ordinary marriage, then.”
He tightened his jaw and glanced away. “It’s not so simple.”
She wrenched her wrist away. He hadn’t applied pressure, but she could still feel his touch on her skin, burning. Tingling.
“Then why don’t you tell me the truth, instead of making cryptic statements and expecting me to drop the matter?”
“I do not want children.”
“Why not?” She felt like screaming in irritation. “You’re a duke. You need an heir. Why are you so obstinate?”
He closed his eyes. “Very well. Here is the truth. When I was a young man, I had an affair with a servant. Her name was Sophie. We had a child, a son. I planned to marry her and informed my father of it. You can imagine how he reacted. He forbade me to marry and sent Sophie and my son away. They were to be kept safe and comfortable on the understanding that I would not disgrace the family by searching for them. I did not agree, but Sophie did. She was a clever girl, and perhaps she understood the predicament that we were in more than I did. At any rate, it did not matter. There was a carriage accident on the way to Scotland, and she and the baby were killed.”
Thalia’s shoulders sagged.
“Oh,” she breathed. “Oh, that’s awful.”
“Yes, it is,” he whispered softly. “Except Laura believes that they did not die. It makes sense that my father would lie to me. He knew that I could not be kept from them, so faking their deaths would have seemed like a good ploy. That was why Laura went to Scotland. She was looking for them. Sophie is dead, but there is no sign of my son. He likely died, too. They did not die in a carriage accident, but since they are dead now, they might as well have. I’ll never see them, never have a chance to make amends. ”
Thalia swallowed. “I’m sorry, Christian.”
He shrugged. “It hardly matters. I don’t want another child. I had a child. And I don’t…” he trailed off, shaking his head tightly.
“What?” she prompted as gently as she could.
He breathed out slowly. “I won’t fail another child. I’m sorry, Thalia.”
“I see,” she managed flatly.
He returned his gaze to her and gave a tired smile. “You look beautiful, Thalia. Whatever gown you choose will be perfect.” Turning to the modiste, he called, “She can choose whatever she wants. Send the bill to me.”
Without another word, he strode out the door, leaving Thalia alone and reeling.