Three Nights with a Scoundrel (Stud Club #3)(102)

He turned his head, letting his gaze slide to his wife. Fading daylight gilded her delicate profile. A dark tendril of hair caressed her pale cheek.

And he had her. Beautiful, generous, brave, intelligent Lily. His dearest friend. The mother of his child. How could he ever want for more? Tenderness unfurled in his chest as he reached for her, brushing the lock aside. She turned to him, her eyes dark and sweet.

“Let’s go home,” he signed, before reaching to draw her close.

“No.” With a firm touch, she pushed him away. “No, Julian. I can’t go home with you.”

Chapter Twenty-five

“What?”

Julian’s shock was evident. It was so evident, Lily found it mildly annoying. How could he fail to understand what he’d put her through today?

Transferring to the opposite seat, she said, “I can’t go home with you and just pretend that nothing’s happened. Only to wake up to another tragic letter the next time you’ve decided your unstarched cuffs make you unworthy of me, and thus you’ve exiled yourself to the Arctic Circle.” She tried to mimic a gruff, masculine voice. “‘Farewell, Lily. You must be strong.’”

All the pain and betrayal of the early morning caught up with her, smothering her like a wave. She fought through tears to continue speaking. “You abandoned me, Julian. You lied to me, withheld information that I had a right to know. I was so desperately afraid. And now I’m furious at you for making me feel that way. Why does Peter Faraday know more about your life than I do? Why didn’t you tell me about him in the first place, let me know he was in London? If I’d known of his role in Leo’s attack, we might have pieced together the truth months ago.”

“Yes, but … you were keeping secrets, too,” he replied. “You might have told me Leo had a lover.”

“I did. Or at least, I asked you if he had someone special, that night of the play. When you made it clear you knew nothing …” She shrugged. “It wasn’t my secret to divulge. If Leo had wanted you to know, he would have told you.” She paused to calm herself and take a deep breath. “And then this morning, Julian. Really. You left me with a letter.”

“A letter that said how much I love you. How dearly I hoped to fix this madness and come home to you.”

“A letter that tells me I don’t even know the half of your life,” she countered. “A letter that says you’re unworthy of me.”

“Lily …” He threw up his hands in frustration. Then blew out a breath and began again. “The thing of it is, I just am. But I’m determined to make myself worthy. I promise you, I will devote my life to making you happy. You are everything to me.”

“I don’t want to be your everything!”

He actually recoiled, as if she’d shot him. His gaze was wounded, bleeding out hope in rich shades of blue.

“Julian.” She softened her expression and signs, trying to make him understand. If there was one thing she’d learned from losing Leo, it was the danger of depending on another person for everything. “I love you. But I don’t want to be your reason for living. I want to share your life. There’s a difference between the two.”

“There are vast chasms between the two. Worlds between them. Whole galaxies and nebulae.”

“So?”

“So we should stay in your world. Where it’s all bright and rich and dazzling.”

Oh, yes. A bright, rich, dazzling pack of lies. “I thought we already had this conversation. You were going to stop treating me like a child who can’t know her own mind.”

“Of course I know you’re not a child. You’re so clever, Lily. Your mind is one of the things I most admire about you.”

“Well, you certainly don’t trust my judgment. Not enough to tell me the truth. Can you possibly understand how lowering it is—how abjectly humiliating—to beg a bird for information as to your husband’s whereabouts? A bird.”

“That’s how you found us? Did Tartuffe mention the Jericho?” He stared at her with open admiration. “I’m sorry I called you clever just now. It was a profound understatement. Obviously, you’re a genius. A brave, beautiful genius.”

“I’m a perfect simpleton, judging by your treatment of me. Again and again, I’ve told you I love you. I wanted to marry you. I am carrying your child. And you continue to insist you’re unworthy of me. How is that not an insult to my intelligence? Am I so stupid, I can’t even know who’s worthy of my love and who isn’t?”

He clearly had no idea how to respond to that.

“When we married,” she went on, “I was so foolishly full of my own emotion. I thought, if I only held you very, very tight and whispered enough words of love in your ear, you would move past the hurt in your past. But kisses don’t truly heal wounds. It’s just a fiction nursemaids pass along.”

He was still for a long moment. Finally, he signed, “You’re right. If we go on like this, I’m always going to feel a fraud.”

It was what she’d suspected. And his admission was a small victory in itself. Even so, Lily couldn’t help but wither in her skin. He seemed to be telling her they couldn’t be happy together, or apart. That didn’t bode well. “So where do we go from here?”