The Solemn Bell(23)

For four long months, he worshipped her. Now, every time he glanced over at her, he couldn’t shake the image of her being taught how to suck a man. Not that he hadn’t pleasured himself thinking of her performing that very same act—he was no hypocrite—but, if she was going to take him into her mouth, it would only be when she felt safe and comfortable enough to enjoy it.

If they weren’t both having fun, what was the point?

Brody was furious with her, but Angelica wasn’t the only one to blame. He should have told her his plan from the start. She would not have liked it, but she would have at least understood why he couldn’t come back straight away.

He thought the first night without morphine had been awful, but going a week…a fortnight…a month…had been utter hell. Even now, the urge scratched at the back of his mind. He felt strong enough to fight it, though he had not been at first. It took three months for him to feel confident enough to walk out of that hospital, and another thirty days before he drove toward Angelica’s house.

Brody had given up—or given away—everything tying him to his old life. He had only a Bentley car and a diamond ring to his name. He’d wanted desperately to give that ring to Angelica, but it was too late for that. His future wife had allowed herself to be defiled and debased on so many levels. Her sweetness had been corroded. Worst of all, she’d thrown her promise back in his face.

What sort of person waited a mere three months before jumping into bed with a stranger? Angelica Grey was not trusting, not faithful. She couldn’t have hurt him more if she’d actually cuckolded him.

He felt betrayed.

Looking at her made him physically sick.

But there were plenty of times when looking at himself in the mirror had made him sick. If Brody could overcome his own past, surely there was hope for Angelica, too. Perhaps, in time, he could see past what she’d done.

He steered the motorcar through the outskirts of Shrewsbury. There was no way they could show up at his parents’ door at this late hour. He wasn’t even sure he could bring Angelica there at all. He needed time to think. So, when he found an unassuming inn on a quiet street, Brody pulled to the kerb.

Angelica stirred. She’d been sleeping, he realized. “Where are we?”

“Stopping for the night,” he said, gruffly. “Stay in the car while I get us a room.”

“Don’t leave me!” Her hand shot out to grab his sleeve.

Of course, she was terrified. Only a cad would leave a blind girl alone, at night, in a strange city.

“You’ll be fine.”

When he returned ten minutes later, she was a shivering ball of fear huddled on the Bentley’s floorboard. He reached in and pulled her out. A small part of him enjoyed tormenting her, but he hated seeing her like this.

“It’s all right, Angelica. You’re on the pavement. Come this way.” He led her to the door. “A small step up.” She fished for it with the toe of her shoe. When she safely made it into the inn, he carefully guided her up the narrow staircase. “Twelve in all. There we go. We’re on the landing now.”

Beneath his grip, her pulse raced like a trapped hare, but, together, they made it to their room. He was proud of her. Stumbling through the dark could not have been easy, especially when she had not left home in seven years.

“Very good, Angelica. You did well.”

She felt for the mattress and sank down onto the bed. A fire glowed in the grate. In the warm, orange light, Brody saw tears in her eyes. He wanted to go to her, to kiss them away. Instead, he took an armchair by the fire and began unlacing his boots.

She shucked out of his greatcoat. “What are you going to do with me?”

“I don’t know yet. Have you any suggestions?”

Her shoulders sagged. “You should have left me behind.”

“No matter how much I hate you right now, I would never do that,” he said, tugging off one boot, and then the other. “If I’m partly responsible for your downfall, then I suppose I’m partly responsible for the consequences of your actions. And you, my girl, have gotten yourself into a pickle.”

Angelica smiled in spite of herself. “You’re gallant.”

“Seriously though, I’m at a loss. If you come up with something viable, by all means, tell me.”

Eventually, she asked, “Would you describe this room to me?”

Brody glanced around. It was a humble space. “You’ve found the bed, obviously. There’s a pair of night tables, and a lamp atop the one closest to you. A chair by the fire—which I am currently occupying—and a wardrobe to your right. There is a bathroom straight ahead, but no toilet. The lavatory is down the hall, I imagine. This place is ancient.”

“Is it…pretty? Quaint, at least?” she asked. “Would two young lovers spend their honeymoon here?”

He frowned. “It’s a half-timbered, Tudor affair. Low and dark.”

“Just how I like it.”

“Don’t be grim, Angelica. I know this isn’t ideal, but it’s our reality. Now, why don’t you try to get some sleep? It has been a long night, and you’ll feel better in the morning.”

She began stripping out of her clothes. He couldn’t help but watch as she unhooked her frock and hauled it over her head. She popped off her leather boots, but left her stockings. Down to only her long chemise and drawers, Angelica crawled beneath the heavy counterpane.