“No,” he said, “of course not.”
“Good,” she said. “Because you shall not have one.”
“Perhaps that is for the best,” he muttered and threw the knife down.
She looked at him, eyebrows raised, then folded the paper and strode out of the room, leaving him behind to stew in his anger. He had no reason to be angry. It wasn’t as though he had been married off to an octogenarian the way she had been, and she hadn’t acted like a petulant child the way he just had, throwing his cutlery as though he were three years old and not yet in control of his speech.
He groaned and then rose, abandoning his breakfast.
The following days passed in the same manner. They barely spoke to each other, and each made an effort to avoid the other. He no longer attempted to share meals with her—whenever he knew that she was in a room taking a meal, he would go the other way and find some place else to eat. Not a difficulty, given their home contained two hundred rooms.
Yet, despite the seemingly endless corridors and halls, the house appeared minuscule because he saw her constantly, everywhere. In the library, by the pond, in the stables, in the drawing room…
She was everywhere. Although a part of him wondered if the reason she was everywhere was perhaps because he subconsciously tried to be where she was.
He hadn’t gone out into town as often as he used to, even at the height of their previous battles. He found himself purposely staying at home when he knew she was there. As if to get a glimpse of her. He wasn’t quite sure why that was. Was it because he cared about her and wanted to ensure that she was well? To see if she still looked at him with a glare in her eyes? Another reason?
He shook his head. He had to stop. The scandal was over. They were locked together for all eternity. Now they had to find a way of living together—or at least living side-by-side—without making each other miserable.
The question was, how?
Perhaps the best thing for him to do was to get out of his own head. Stop thinking about her constantly. Stop thinking about what might have been, what should have been.
The Wednesday after they were wed—when ordinary couples would have been away on their honeymoon—he found himself watching her depart in the carriage in the afternoon. She had walked past him in the hall without acknowledging him.
He only knew where she was going from her maid—meeting with her aunt and sisters again.
He didn’t feel like spending another day wandering the halls, pondering what the future might hold without ever actually reaching any sort of conclusion.
Instead, he did what he used to always do whenever he found himself conflicted or at a crossroads. He sent a message to his friend. He would meet with Julian and go to the club. He knew the last time he was there, he hadn’t been able to focus on anything other than Evelyn, but things would be different today.
He and Evelyn were done. Not that they ever were anything other than done. But the connection—whatever might have been romantic—was finished.
He had no intention of finding a woman. He knew he wouldn’t be able to focus and didn’t wish to seduce anybody. But what heneeded was his friend’s company, a few stiff drinks, and a game of billiards. Maybe a few wagers or a card game or two. Maybe a cigar.
What he needed was a change of scenery. And that he was going to get tonight.
CHAPTER 27
“She’s going to end up kissing him and being completely happy eventually,” Charlotte said.
“I think she’s bound to kill him first,” Marianne replied in a subdued tone. Evelyn stayed where she was, on the gravel path before the gardens. She had come to visit her sisters and aunt, but had inadvertently come upon them gossiping about her.
Not that she was too upset about it. She and her sisters often talked about each other behind their backs. It was hardly ever anything malicious.
Even if what was said was unkind, it was usually said amidst the recent argument. But she couldn’t help but wonder what her sisters truly thought about her marriage.
“Girls,” Aunt Eugenia said. “Your sister is very upset about the current situation, so let us not talk about it so much. It must be?—”
“Oh yes, so difficult to be married to a handsome, dashing duke,” Charlotte interrupted.
“She says she didn’t want to marry him,” Marianne defended her. “What good does it do to be married to the most beautiful man in the entire realm when he doesn’t want?—”
“She says he doesn’t want her,” Charlotte replied. “But I’ve seen the way he looks at her. It is obvious that he is moon-eyed over her. And they must have been up to something in his study for Lady Charmaine to say what she did. She would not have just made that?—”
“Ladies make things up all the time.”
“So do gentlemen,” Aunt Eugenia chimed in. “None of our society is immune to the desire to gossip—from the lowliest pauper to the Prince Regent himself. Everybody does it. This entire realm would be better off if people would not constantly let their tongues spread gossip. We all have our own lots to bear. We ought to focus on ourselves. Starting with you two ladies,” she said. Evelyn wanted to rush in to hug her Aunt Eugenia. She was a true ally.
