Page 13 of Miss Barton's Mysterious Husband
“The cause of the argument was so petty.”
She straightened and sent him a direct look. “No, it touched on something important, something we needed to sort out.”
“You wanted to travel south to see your family before we settled at Leeder Hall. I could have agreed.”
She shook her head, as her hands twined together. “Yes, you could. But the fight was really about how fully I was committed to you.”
“It seemed to me—”
“That I put my loyalty to my family ahead of my loyalty to you.”
He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. The familiar gesture made her heart squeeze in painful longing. “I should have been kinder. You were very young and an only child.”
He was trying to ease the load of blame on her, when he really shouldn’t. Both she and Roland had been wronged. She hadn’t forgotten that. She never would. But she was sickly aware that the sin lay heaviest on her, not on her intrusive family. “We were both young, but that was no excuse. You told me I needed to grow up and decide I was a wife before I was a daughter.”
He winced. “I told you a lot of things that I’ve had time to repent since.”
“You were right. I’d pledged myself to you and our marriage. That should have come first. I wanted to be Lady Destry, but I also wanted to be pampered, spoiled Charmian Barton. Our separation is mostly my fault.”
He looked devastated. “You’re being too harsh with yourself. We could have sorted things out.”
“If I hadn’t run home to Mamma, like the stupid little girl I remained at heart. I can’t blame you for hating me.”
In a fit of temper, she’d hired a chaise from the inn at York and paid a maid to accompany her for the sake of appearances. She’d rushed back to Somerset and a useless attempt to retreat to her childhood. She’d cried the whole way.
“I don’t hate you,” he said in a dull voice.
“You should.” She felt so weighted with guilt, she feared that she was likely to sink through the floor.
“No, I shouldn’t. I should have put my pride aside and begged you to stay.”
“But you did chase after me.”
A bitter smile twisted his lips. “I was so desperate for a kind word from you. I was ready to crawl over broken glass for your forgiveness. But your mother treated me with such coldness.”
“I should have realized that there was something in the wind. She was utterly appalled that I’d fallen into a seducer’s clutches. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so angry. It took me forever to convince her that we really were married. Then she was sure that I’d fallen prey to a ruthless fortune hunter. She was so relieved when there was no baby.”
Sorrow weighted his gaze. “I’d hoped there might be. I thought if you carried my child, you might come back to me.”
“You have no idea how I grieved when I discovered that I wasn’t pregnant. It was as if I’d lost all my links to you.”
His smile didn’t reach his eyes, but at least it was a smile. “Don’t be a goose, Charmian. Didn’t you listen to the words of the marriage ceremony? We’re united until death do us part. Even if I never saw you again, you’d be my wife.”
The warmth of his voice when he called her a goose swept her straight back to their first meetings. He’d been the kind of lover who teased the object of his affections with silly nicknames and absurdly extravagant compliments. Every time that he said something ridiculous, she’d melted. She still did. A shaft of agonizing regret sliced through her as she realized anew what she’d tossed away.
“You could have involved the law. You had a right to get me back. You had a right to claim my fortune.”
He shook his ruffled dark head and gripped the arms of the chair. “I couldn’t do that without the risk of alienating you forever. How would you have felt if I’d hauled your mother up in front of the magistrates? I might be a fool, but I’m not such a foolas that. I wanted the girl who loved me to come back. I wanted us to build on the joy that we’d already found.”
More past tense. How she detested it. “So you were content to let things drift?”
Her dismissive tone made anger flare in his eyes. “I kept writing.”
She gestured toward the stuffed satchel. “So did I. Little good it did me.”
“When I didn’t receive a reply, I thought you wanted nothing to do with me.”
“And I thought you felt the same.” The enormity of her family’s wrongs against her staggered her. She had an inkling that when she came to terms with what her mother and aunt had done, she’d be even more livid than she was now. “We should be grateful that chance brought us together to sort things out.”
