The Gentleman Who Loved Me (Heart of Enquiry Book 6)(94)

Two years. It’s only been two years since he made love to that woman—that witch who sold me to a monster. Rosie’s chest burned, fire rising to the back of her eyes.

“It ought to have been over long before that,” Andrew said hoarsely. “I knew it wasn’t right; it never was. I tried to end it. I wouldn’t see her for years, but then she would show up and I… I don’t know why I let her back in. If you’d let me explain—”

“I don’t want to hear any more of your lies!” The words left her in a shout.

“That’s probably wise, dear,” Kitty drawled, “since it seems Corby here hasn’t been entirely disclosing to you. Did he mention, for instance, that he knew that I planned to sell you to the highest bidder—that he could have prevented it… but instead he ran off and took up with another bawd? Well, I suppose one can’t blame him for his survival tactics. As they say—once a whore, always a whore.”

If Rosie had thought her life couldn’t shatter any further, this was proof that she was wrong. The shards of her dreams rained upon her, slicing the heart she’d exposed into a thousand foolish pieces.

“Primrose, please listen to me—”

She backed away from Andrew’s outstretched hand, his tormented eyes. “Stay away from me. You’re disgusting… you disgust me. I never want to see you again!”

Whirling around, she ran from the room.

~~~

With leaden steps, Andrew ascended the stairs to his chamber. Inside he was cold—colder than he ever remembered being. He’d watched the woman he loved run from him… and he was powerless to stop it.

He didn’t know how he would fix things with Primrose. Didn’t know if he could or deserved to. He did know that there was nothing he could do about it tonight. So he’d let her go. He’d instructed his guards to take her back to her parents, waiting for confirmation that she was safe.

Now it was time to deal with Kitty.

He entered the bedchamber, not surprised to see her fully dressed, sitting by the fire. She hadn’t come for sex—of that he was certain. For Kitty, pleasure had always come second to her desire for gain: for money or power or whatever it was she wanted.

During their association, he’d accepted her cold, calculating nature. She was who she was… just as he was who he was. Survival had made them both hard, immune to life’s venom. But his time with Primrose had changed him. Her sweetness and generosity had shown him a relationship he’d never imagined he could have. One full of laughter, passion, and love.

Seeing Kitty in his wingchair—in his house where she had no business being—he felt her poison seeping into his bloodstream. And it made him cold with rage.

He stood in front of her chair. “Who put you up to this?”

“Maybe I missed you, lover, and wanted to fuck for old time’s sake.”

“You have a minute to answer me before I throttle it out of you.”

“You’d never lay hands on a woman, Corby. You and I both know that.”

Her bravado faded when his stare didn’t waver, his knuckles cracking as his hands fisted.

“At any rate,” she said hastily, “I did you a favor. What were you thinking, letting that milk-fed chit wind you around her little finger?”

He slammed his palms onto the wingchair’s arms with enough force to make Kitty jolt.

“Who. Paid. You?” he roared.

“T-Todd,” she stammered. “It was Malcolm Todd.”

Just as he thought. Twice now, Todd had crossed him. The bastard was going to pay.

Straightening, Andrew stalked to the mantelpiece and clipped out, “Tell me everything.”

“Todd approached me. Apparently, he has some beef with you,” Kitty said warily. “He discovered that you were having an affair, and since it’s no secret that you and I have a past, he wanted me to cause trouble for you. Between you and your new lover.” She swallowed, her throat bobbing. “I had no choice, Corby. I owe Todd money. I’ve played too deeply at his tables, and you know what he does to those who don’t pay their debts. This was the only way I could save myself. I had to do this.”

He looked into her pleading grey eyes—and felt nothing.

“Get out,” he said.

Instead of leaving, she came to him. “I… I’ve missed you. I’ve thought about what you said the last time, about wanting more than fucking, and I realize that—”

“I don’t want more from you. I don’t want anything.” He didn’t know who disgusted him more: her or himself. “Fucking’s all we ever did, Kitty, and it wasn’t even good.”

Her eyes flashed, but she said in a wheedling tone, “I’ve changed—”

“I don’t give a damn,” he said flatly. “Your poison stopped working on me long ago.”

That was what Kitty had fed him for all those years: her own brand of toxicity. What she’d labelled as necessary for survival had been a recipe for his self-doubt and self-hatred—the better for her to manipulate him with. He’d realized this when he’d ended things with her; now he felt it in the depths of his soul. The soul that had been awakened by joy and love—because of Primrose.

Pain bled through his icy control. How could he make things right with her? How could he—when the truth was she deserved better than him?