Page 88 of The Duke and the Temporary Bride

“It is,” Benedict growled, clenching his hands into fists. “Edmund, tell him.” He waited, expecting his brother to speak up. “Edmund!” he barked.

“It is as my brother says,” Edmund said plainly. “I was in France, seeking a…” He grimaced. “Seeking a bride.”

“There. That settles the?—”

“So, the other rumors are not true?” Lord Longham interjected, his smile widening. He looked down the table. “For we have all heard them, even if nobody here is willing to speak of them.”

“Careful, Lord Langham…” Benedict bared his teeth in warning, his body shaking now. “I do not appreciate where this is going, and I will remind you that you are my guest.”

“And as your guest, I do not appreciate being lied to. We all heard the rumor that you were forced into marriage after your brother ducked out the window on the night of?—”

“That is enough!” Benedict was on his feet, even if he did not remember standing. Leaning over the table, he felt like he might charge down its length and tear the Viscount into pieces. “I have told you what happened, and my word should seal the matter! I do not tolerate gossip-mongering, and neither should you!”

The room fell silent. All eyes were on Benedict, a combination of shock and fear written all over the faces of his guests. He had worked so hard to convince them tonight, to lure them into a false sense of safety and security, and in this one glorious moment, he had ruined everything.

“You do not believe me?” he growled. “Ask my wife! For she will tell you the truth as I have.” He spun around and glared at Selina. “Well! Tell them!”

Benedict knew the moment he spoke that he had made a mistake. First, his sudden outburst caught her by surprise. That surprise then turned into annoyance, which quickly turned into defiance.

“Oh, what does it matter, Benedict?” she sighed, waving her hand dismissively down the table. “Who cares if they learn the truth.”

That elicited a series of gasps.

His eyes widened. “Selina! What did we talk about?”

“I don’t care,” she said. “It’s a lie. All of it! Edmund was not in France. He fled the night of the announcement of our engagement, and you married me in his stead. What does it matter!”

“Selina!” Lady Langham cried. “Do not listen to her. She has had too much to drink?—”

“I am not drunk!” Selina was on her feet. “And I object to all these lies! Do you want the truth?” She looked down the table. “Benedict and I married because we had no choice! We were forced into it. And for over a month now, we have been living a lie because we worried about what people would think if they found out! Well…” Her eyes shot fire at Benedict. “I am sick and tired of pretending! I do not love Benedict, and he certainly does not love me! In fact, sometimes I wish that it had been Lord Edmund who I had wed instead, for surely that would not have been the nightmare this marriage has turned into.”

She sat back down and crossed her arms over her chest.

Silence then followed.

How to describe how Benedict felt at that moment? It was impossible. Red flashed before his eyes. His blood ran so hot that he thought he might explode. The walls seemed to close in on him, and the shocked whispers of those down the table grew louder and began to beat at him as if from every direction.

To make matters even worse, Selina could not have looked more defiant. She raised an eyebrow at him as if daring him to say something—to snap at her. Her lips curled into a proud smirk.

A fight was in store for the two of them. This one, however, would not end as the others so often did. This one, Benedict suspected, would come to define their marriage and their relationship in ways that would finally see its end.

And with how he was feeling, he was not entirely certain that was a bad thing.

Chapter Thirty

“Iam not going to apologize.” Selina stormed through the foyer, her back purposefully to Benedict. Just in case he wasn’t already aware of how little she thought of him right now.

“Do not walk away from me!” he roared. “Get back here!”

“I am through being told what to do.”

“Selina!” She heard his footsteps pounding against the marble floor as he charged after her. “I said get back here!”

The sound of her husband coming for her elicited a sense of fear the likes of which she had never known. There was no flirtation behind his anger. There was no indication that he wanted her to push back, to stoke the flames of his rage so that the two might spiral into their usual state of induced eroticism—their standard method for ending a fight.

Benedict was angry with her, and this time there would be no talking her way out of it. More than that, Selina did not want to.

He might be angry, but so was she! All evening, her anger had slowly bubbled beneath the surface, growing hotter and more untamed the further Benedict pushed the lie upon her and their guests. His speech was the final straw, and when Leopold decided to poke holes in it, she was thrilled.

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