Love, Come to Me(53)

“How remarkable,” Betta murmured speculatively, and Lucy jerked her glance away from Heath in order to gather up her gloves and tiny blue handbag.

“What’s remarkable?” she asked quietly, so thoroughly flustered that she dropped her program between the seats and couldn’t retrieve it.

“Your husband. To look at him I wouldn’t have thought he would be the marrying kind at all. I also find it remarkable that he should be staring at you in such a manner.”

“He is the marrying kind,” Lucy said. “I’m wearing a ring that proves it. And why shouldn’t he be staring at me? I’m his wife.”

“Husbands don’t stare at their wives that way.”

“Mine does,” Lucy said with automatic defensiveness, casting a guarded look at her handsome, perplexing husband.

“As I said . . . remarkable.”

Lucy turned away from Betta’s well-preserved, worldy-wise face and murmured her goodbyes to the other women of the Thursday Circle. Heath took Lucy’s black cape from the arms of a stout, white-aproned maid and pulled it around her shoulders. Her gloved hand rested on his arm as he took her out to the barouche.

“So it’s over,” he said when the barouche was on its way. The cheerful rhythm of the horse’s trot steadily underlined their conversation.

“Yes. Tonight was a success.”

“I wasn’t referring to the Thursday Circle’s musical evening.”

Lucy hesitated uncertainly before replying. “Then I guess you’re talking about Daniel and Sally.”

“I saw what you did for Sally. It struck me as an odd gesture for you to make . . . but every now and then, you do show backbone.”

“All I did was join in the toast—”

“A toast to the engagement of your former fiancé and your former best friend. Tell me, how hard did you have to grit your teeth?” As Lucy refused to answer, he laughed softly. “Forgive me. I don’t mean to detract from your noble gesture. But I am curious . . . are you surprised by the match?”

“I . . . I’ve never thought of them together,” Lucy said wonderingly, her gaze distant as she went over her recollections of the past. “The three of us were together many times, but Daniel never seemed to notice her.”

“I’m sure he didn’t. Not while you were around. You do tend to attract a man’s complete attention.”

“How quickly they . . . discovered each other. Just three months after I married you.”

“Daniel could have done much worse for himself. She’s a little short on pluck, but she’s a sweet enough creature—just what he needs.”

“I suppose you think he’s better off with her than he would have been with me.”

“I suppose you don’t.”

“I could have been a good wife to him.”

“If you say so.”

She glared at his smooth, clean-cut profile. “And he would have been a good husband to me. At least he wouldn’t have left me all the time to go to some other . . .” She caught herself just in time, her hand fluttering up to her throat to keep down the accusation. Wild impulses darted inside her chest like trapped birds seeking escape. All at once she wanted to throw all of her complaints and frustrations and fears at him.

“Some other what?” Heath demanded, sliding her a narrow-eyed glance. “Finish what you were going to say.”

“Some other woman,” she said bluntly, her breath coming faster as she gave into the relief of telling him exactly what she thought. “You’re gone all the time, and you don’t come back until late at night sometimes, and . . . that’s what I think.”

“What the hell . . . you think I’ve been gallivanting around Boston with another woman instead of working?” he asked roughly.

“Haven’t you?” she countered in a small voice, while a flicker of hope was born inside her. For a second he had seemed so surprised, perhaps even a little hurt.

He was silent while she waited in agonized suspense for his answer. She had not expected that what he would say would matter so much, and yet she thought she would scream if he didn’t say something soon. “Would it matter to you if I’ve been taking my pleasures where and when I’ve found them?”

“So it’s true,” she said, while sudden anger coursed through her body in quick pulses. “You have been with other women—”

“I didn’t admit or deny that. I asked if it would matter to you.”

“Why should I care? Of course it wouldn’t matter to me,” she said sharply, longing for the power to hurt him as she saw the cool smile that touched his mouth. “Why have you changed so much?” she burst out. “You used to be so much nicer . . . gentler—”

“You don’t allow me to be gentle with you.”

“I don’t know what you want,” Lucy said, shaking with frustration. “I don’t know why you’re different now . . . I don’t know why . . . I thought when we were first married that we might be able to . . . but now . . .”

“That we might be able to do what?” he prompted, his mood changing rapidly. The moment before he had looked jeering, but now he was staring at her with perfect seriousness. She couldn’t answer. The words had jammed up in her throat, and she sat there looking at him mutely. Heath shook his head and returned his attention to the road while the tension between them leapt to an even higher pitch.