Page 94 of Trapped with her Cruel Duke

“I could have at least accompanied you, Louise. You have no idea how dangerous the streets can be for a woman.”

“I waited until it was light,” she said dismissively.

“And why did you not wake me up?” he hissed.

Louise rolled her eyes. “I was trying to protect you from the machinations of my family. I wished to learn from my father what he had done.”

“You did not believe that it was him?” Christian sneered.

Louise glowered at him furiously. “Forgive me for not dismissing my father as a madman without good reason. That stable boy could have easily been mistaken—you yourself must have enemies.”

Christian threw up his hands in agitation and turned away from her. But as he did so, he was distracted by his reflection in the large mirror above the fireplace. He balked at it and began to adjust his clothing.

“Look at me. I am a disgrace. I have been forced to leave my house before dawn to chase my wife, who went on a mission so idiotic that it is beyond comprehension!”

“Idiotic?” Louise snapped. “I was ensuring that my mother was well, and she was not!”

Christian paused as he tweaked his shirt cuffs, his expression morphing into one of contrition.

“I am sorry he treated your mother so despicably.” He glanced at her curiously. “Has it happened before?”

“Yes,” she spat. “It was one of the main reasons why I did not wish to marry.”

His sharp eyes flicked to her again, his mouth twisting into a snarl.

“I did not wish toleaveher, Christian. Not everything revolves around you.”

Despite the gravity of their conversation, Louise felt a hint of amusement as he stuck his hands in his pockets and pulled out a cravat from one of them, before walking to the mirror and tying it around his neck.

“I look like a vagrant,” he muttered as he smoothed its folds, before twisting it into a Mail Coach knot.

Louise watched him struggle with it for as long as she could bear it before she walked to him and turned him around. She pulled the cloth tight and brought the ends to the front. She crossed them over one another and then tied them in a final knot, before stepping back and raising an eyebrow at him.

Christian turned to the mirror and poked at his cravat. “Wherever did you learn to tie these?”

“Marcus has the same trouble with them,” she replied.

His eyes instantly hardened. “Did you have any suspicion of what had happened between Marcus and your mother?” he asked, watching her in the mirror.

“None, I told you.”

“Are you upset?”

Louise glared at him, her irritation and anger rising to a fever pitch as he fidgeted on the spot. “And why should I be upset? My mother is happy for the first time in her life—that it is a wonderful thing.”

“But it is a betrayal, is it not?”

“Christian, I will not have this conversation with you again.”

“You are telling me that you feel nothing after learning that Marcus has been conducting a secret affair with your mother all this time? I do not believe it.”

“You may believe whatever you wish,” she retorted, “it will make no difference. What does it matter what my feelings are on the subject?”

“I know you must care, Louise. It is?—”

“The only thing Icareabout is that the man I love seems determined to push me into the arms of his brother!”

Very slowly, Christian turned away from the mirror, his mouth hanging open in amazement. Louise glared at him furiously, her gut churning at her admission.

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