“My brother is not a drawback, Your Grace. Nor my mother. And Iadoredmy father. And no matter how big a rake he was, Marcus Barrington was still twice the man you are.”
The very tops of Granby’s cheeks reddened. “You will listen to me—”
“No, actually. I won’t. Take your stupid, outlandish tenets that you live by, and go marry Beatrice. Float about thetonwith the rest of discerning society. I bid you good evening, Your Grace. I believe the ball is still going on. Enjoy yourself.”
* * *
Romy fled the study,her hands shaking, and made her way up the servant’s stairs as quickly as she could, careful to keep to the shadows, terrified someone might see her in her state of disarray. While her gown was properly laced, her lips were swollen, and Granby’s scent was all over her skin.
What have I done?
Ruined herself for a man she loved.
She stopped on the top stair as a painful sob tore through her; she pressed a hand to her chest, willing the agony to subside until she could reach the safety of her rooms. Romydidlove Granby, despite him being an absolute ass in the worst way possible.
She strode down the hall in the direction of her room.
Granby meant toacquireher like one of his bloody frescoes, merelyoverlookingher imperfections because he desired her. But he would never accept her completely.
That wasn’t love. She wasn’t sure what to call it.
Romy hadalmostshared her deepest secret, the dress designs. Madame Dupree. What a foolish thing that would have been. Granby would never allow his duchess to be involved in trade, even discreetly.
Throwing open the door to her room, she slammed the heavy wood behind her. She was shaking so badly, her legs threatened to buckle.
He’s ruined the most beautiful night of my life. And my heart.
“My lady?” Daisy came forward, a book in her hand. “It’s so early. I didn’t expect you until close to dawn.” Her eyes grew wide as she took in Romy’s appearance. “My lady,” she said, eyes growing concerned. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m perfectly fine, Daisy. The ball was tedious. Boring. I’m weary of this house party and its guests. Will you have a bath drawn for me? I wish to wash the stench of the ball from me.”
Daisy jerked her head. “Immediately, my lady.” She came forward and took Romy’s hand, giving it a tight squeeze.
“Please, get me out of this gown.” At Daisy’s widened eyes, she said, “Now. Immediately.”
A few minutes later, Daisy left her standing with a robe draped around her shoulders, pretending not to notice the spot of blood staining the linen of her chemise, and went to order her bath.
Romy slumped into a chair. Viciously, she tore at the butterfly clips in her hair, tossing them about the room like pebbles. She stared at her beautiful gown, knowing she would never, under any circumstances, wear it again.
I thought he loved me.
Love? The late Duke of Granby had made absolutely sure his son was raised without such a pedestrian emotion, if the conversation in the portrait gallery was any indication. Instead, all Granby could think about was how unsuitable Romy was because her mother had once been a paid companion. Insinuating he wasn’t the only one who looked down on her family. Or her father. A man who acknowledged his faults and strove to become a better man. Something Granby obviously didn’t have a clue about.
Angrily, she wiped the tears from her cheeks.
Granby assumed ruining her would guarantee marriage.
He was wrong.
24
David woke with a start, his arm stretching across the bed, disappointed to realize it had only been a dream. Andromeda had been naked before him, her hair fanning out across the coverlet of his bed with butterflies floating around her head. The butterflies increased in number, swirling about their naked bodies as his mouth fell between her thighs.
As the remnants of the dream faded, a hollowness took hold, spreading out across his chest.
I have not lost her. She is only angry.
David dropped his head back on the pillow, ignoring the slight ache in his temples. The decision to wed Andromeda had flourished well before David had taken her virtue in his study, before he’d so much as poured a glass of scotch, else he would never have touched her.
