But he had touched her. Claimed her.To ensure she would marry me even after realizing how I would separate her from her family.
There was far too much scandal and speculation in Andromeda’s family for him to ever embrace the Barringtons. Not to mention the bastard. He had assumed she knew how many in London viewed her family. Or at leastsuspected. Did she expect him to welcome Murphy to his dinner table? Before David realized it, Andromeda would be welcominghisbastard brother to visit.
He threw back the covers, placing his feet on the floor, oddly reluctant to call for his valet and make his way downstairs. Fear twisted in his gut, the worst he’d ever known.
She was only overwrought.
He told himself Andromeda’s anger at him might well be for the best. A certain amount of detachment would be beneficial going forward. She would expect displays of affection. Tender words. Tokens. He’d no idea how to do any of those things. But he would ensure she was happy. Cared for. Content.
He thought of the words which had fallen from his lips last night.
Sei tutto per me.
You mean everything to me.
The ache in David’s chest increased, lingering even as he rang for his valet. David caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.
Perhaps the portrait of Horace is, in fact, not a painting, but a mirror.
David stared at his reflection. He felt slightly ill, and he didn’t think it was due to the scotch he’d had the night before.
His valet rushed into the room, apologizing for taking an entire minute to answer David’s summons. David searched for the man’s name and couldn’t recall it.
“I overslept.” David raised a brow and gave the man a meaningful look.
“Palmer,” the valet supplied, not daring to meet his eyes.
“I should like to make my way down, immediately. Palmer.” He would find Andromeda at breakfast and take her into the gardens. Kiss her until her mood cooled. Apologize for the clumsiness of his words. Once she was calm, she would see he was right.
* * *
The best laidplans often go awry.
“That was one of the least pleasant conversations I’ve ever been part of in recent memory.” Aunt Pen stood at the window, not turning as she addressed David. “Carstairs and his wife are leaving.”
“I wished them well on their journey as I came down for breakfast. Carstairs maintained a vacant look on his face while I addressed him. Possibly I should have reminded him who I was.”
“That is unkind.” A small chuckle left her. “Carstairs is lovely. It’s his gossiping wife I don’t care for. At least you won’t be forced further into their company now that you don’t mean to marry Beatrice.”
“I do not,” David stated with conviction. Beatrice as his duchess, sharing his bed, held not the slightest appeal now.
“Ah.” Aunt Pen leaned closer to the window. “There go the Foxwoods. Finally. I thought you’d have to pry Lady Foxwood’s fingers from the doorframe or force her into their coach, as reluctant as she was to release her hold on her hopes of Beatrice becoming a duchess. Foxwood was furious, Granby. He will not take this insult lightly.”
“It was not intended as an insult. I never formally offered for Beatrice. Foxwood’s expectations exceeded the reality of the situation.”
Aunt Pen left her perch at the window to sit down on the sofa. “I realize it is still early, but I could do with a sherry.”
“Of course.” David stood and went to the sideboard.
“How much truth is there in Foxwood’s accusation? That your affections had been stolen by the brazen Andromeda Barrington?” She accepted the sherry from him.
David poured himself a scotch, looking down at the butterfly clip grasped in his free hand. It must have fallen from her hair last night as they’d made love. He’d nearly destroyed it with one of his boots.
Like I have Andromeda.
David put the clip in his pocket, ignoring the flood of unease filling him. She hadn’t been at breakfast. A note had been sent to her room inquiring after her health, but David had received no reply. He’d been about to leap up the stairs to her room and demand entrance when Aunt Pen had summoned him to the study, where David had been greeted by the furious glares of the Foxwoods.
“Some,” he offered.
