Page 78 of The Defiant One
His heart was in turmoil. He wanted her to chase after him and drag the truth from him. He wanted her to stay where he'd left her and never broach the subject again. He wanted — he dragged his hands over his face — oh, God, he didn't know what he wanted. He felt like a cad, a coward; he felt like the worst sort of monster.
And it had nothing to do with the way he'd just treated her brother, either. Somerfield had been lounging in the library, drinking Celsie's wine, reading Celsie's books, when Andrew had slammed in. The earl's sly innuendoes, taunts and knowing smirk had been all Andrew needed to put two and two together. Again, he saw Celsie taking her life in her hands by confronting that red-haired witch. Again he saw Charles, groggily picking himself up out of the dust after being struck down. And he knew then that Somerfield had been involved in the theft of the aphrodisiac. With his emotions already at fever pitch, it had taken very little to send him right over the edge.
God help me. What must she think of me?
He strode down the hall, seeking a comfort he didn't know how to find, seeking escape in his work when there was no work, no project, not even a laboratory, in which to lose himself. He felt totally lost, like a dismasted ship. He felt like a hounded fox that had suddenly lost its hole. Oh, God, what was he going to do? He had botched things, and botched them terribly.
Tell her. Just tell her, and get it over with.
He shut his eyes as he walked, moving faster to try to run from the thought, shaking his head as he went. I can't tell her. It will destroy everything we've already got between us. She'll think me a freak. She'll hate and pity and recoil from me. I can't tell her. I just can't.
~~~~
Celsie knew he needed some time to himself.
She gave him an hour — and then she went looking for him.
He wasn't in the stable with Newton, nor was he in the dining room having breakfast, nor was he in any of the bedrooms. No, she found him in the ballroom, measuring one of the walls, his coat thrown carelessly over the back of a chair.
Just pretend nothing happened, she thought to herself. Just treat him like you would a nervous, cornered dog that's perfectly capable of biting. Win his trust. Don't make him retreat even further into himself.
"Let me guess," she said affably, picking the coat up and neatly folding it. "You don't like the decor and are planning to put up new wallpaper."
"No."
"You're thinking of adding another window to let in more light, then."
"I'm measuring for shelves," he snapped.
"Shelves? Whatever for?"
"Because this room would be perfect for a laboratory."
"This room is the ballroom, my lord husband, and you'll have to put your laboratory somewhere else."
He turned and met her smiling gaze with hard, defiant eyes that sparkled with anger. "Well, seeing as how I don't like to go out in Society, and I certainly don't want it coming here to find me, I think we can do without a ballroom."
She crossed her arms, trapping his coat to her chest. "And I think I quite like having a ballroom."
He glared at her.
She gazed calmly back, holding his folded coat against her chest and resting her chin on the soft velvet. "Do you know what else I think, Andrew?"
"No."
"I think it's time we tried to work on being friends again. We were doing so well."
He said nothing and turned away, his eyes bleak with pain, a muscle knotting in his jaw.
"Andrew?"
"You should never have married me," he snarled. "You would have been far better off without me, even if your reputation ended up in shreds. I will not make you happy. I cannot make you happy."
"You make me very happy when you don't close yourself off and shove me away with anger that I don't understand." She stepped closer. "Andrew." She laid her hand on his arm and said gently, "Can you not confide in me?"
He remained where he was, his arm rigid beneath her fingers as he stared blankly, mutely, at the wall.
"Can you not tell me the real reason you don't want to go out in Society?" she prompted. "The real reason you keep me at arm's length with displays of bad temper whenever we start to get close?" She made her voice as soft and gentle as she possibly could. "And the real reason why you behaved in such a peculiar fashion this morning, only to flee before explaining yourself?"
