Marquesses at the Masquerade(72)

“In an emotional time, you act in ways you never thought you would. I can’t judge you.”

“I read the letter.”

She reached up and placed her gloved hand on his cheek. “What did the letter say?”

He could tell she didn’t care about the letter. She knew he needed to confess, and she was giving him permission.

“She said she was sorry that she wasn’t strong enough to run away with him.” His voice cracked. “That she thought of him when she touched me. She pretended the baby was theirs. That someday they—she, him, and her unborn child—would be reunited in a world without end. Just as her love for him was—without end.”

Annalise slowly drew him back to her safe embrace. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

She rested her cheek on his chest. He liked her there. Her touch penetrated all the way to his pounding heart. Damn that night years ago, and Patrick, and Wallis’s vile words. Annalise was the only true thing in his life. “I couldn’t keep our friendship secret,” he said. “Wallis Hume was insulting you at a club, and I wouldn’t have it. I couldn’t have him belittling you. Lewiston was there and overheard it all.”

“Shhh.” She ran her fingers along his back. “Don’t worry about that. It doesn’t matter to me.”

“The other day you reminded me that I once told you that you would love again and more wisely,” he said. “Well, you don’t. Love continues, even for those who don’t love you. You knew that, and you fought for Patrick. I’ve never told you how much I came to admire you for that. You are the strong one.”

“I don’t feel strong at all. I’m pretending that I’m strong, because it’s easier than owning how confused and sad I can be.”

“Are you that way with me?”

“No. I really have nothing to hide from you. You know all my secrets.”

“Thank you,” he whispered. How easily she gave herself away to him, letting him know her. She didn’t drive him wild like Cassandra had by hiding her true thoughts. She wasn’t a beautiful enigma. She readily gave herself and that sweet, radiant calmness that he recalled from the day at the print shop. He felt safe in her arms. Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around? How could a grown man feel unsafe? Wasn’t he supposed to be her hero and comfort her? He drew her tighter. “Thank you,” he whispered again.

They didn’t say anything more but rested in their embrace. The music and chatter from the other room could have been miles away.

Then the door swung violently open, the handle smashing against the wall. Mr. Sommerville and Colonel Lewiston stood on the threshold. Sommerville’s thin neck was red and corded, and his bulging eyes burned with anger. Annalise tried to leap away, but Exmore held her close. They wouldn’t get to her. They wouldn’t hurt his Annalise.

“Thank you, Colonel Lewiston, for alerting me to this unfortunate situation,” Sommerville said while glowering at Exmore.

Lewiston eyed Exmore. Triumph hiked the edge of his mouth. Lewiston surely thought he had done a great service to Annalise. He had saved her from Exmore’s supposedly vile clutches, avenging Cassandra through her.

“What have you done, Annalise?” Sommerville demanded.

“Shut the door,” Exmore said, keeping a protective hold on her. Behind them, guests were turning to see the reason for the commotion.

Lewiston shot Exmore a smug look, so proud of himself, and then walked out, shutting the door.

“You ridiculous, silly idiot,” Sommerville spat at Annalise. “You insist on shaming me, and at Lord Warrington’s ball. Have you any sense at all?”

“Don’t speak to her that way,” Exmore growled, keeping Annalise’s back against his chest, his arm draped protectively across her.

“Tell me, my lord.” Mr. Sommerville opened his hands. “Will you do the honorable thing by this witless girl? Will you marry her and be saddled with her for the rest of her life? She would disgrace the office held by your late beloved, perfect wife.”

“No!” Annalise cried.

Exmore remained silent, assessing her uncle and the situation.

“Come away, now, you wicked child!” her uncle barked. No doubt, his voice carried to the other room. He took pleasure in his righteous anger and belittling Annalise. “You disappoint me in every measure.”

Exmore made a quick calculation and reluctantly released his hold on Annalise… for now. “Go quietly with him,” he whispered. “Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll take care of matters tonight.”





Chapter Ten





* * *



“I’m going to Holland,” Annalise whispered to herself as her uncle gripped her elbow, escorting her outside. The watch might as well have arrested her in the middle of Lord Warrington’s ball for all the curious looks she garnered.

In the carriage on the way home, her uncle warned his wife and Phoebe to remain silent. Despite this instruction, her aunt begged, “What is wrong, Mr. Sommerville?”

“It’s not for your innocent ears.”

Phoebe cast Annalise commiserating looks but remained obediently silent.

Annalise gazed out the window, watching the blur of light outside the glass. She felt oddly numb about her disgrace and coming journey to the Continent. Shouldn’t she feel more? Perhaps embarrassment, humiliation, or fear? Instead, her mind turned over Exmore’s words. His personal descent now made sense: the rakishness, the self-destruction, the pain. How disorientating to learn that the person you loved most in the world never loved you, that she had been pretending all along. Exmore had unwittingly built his marriage and life on lies. Annalise and Patrick had never shared the intimacy of a marriage bed or spent years building a life together. Yet, she had been devastated at his abandonment. She couldn’t imagine how Exmore must feel. Love, sadness, anger, remorse, and disillusionment. He had admitted that one never stops loving someone, and she knew that to be true, but she wished it was otherwise. She wished a powerful tide would sweep memories of old love away to a forgotten ocean, leaving a clean shore to start again, as if the past hadn’t happened. She wished so for Exmore’s sake.