Page 54 of Surrender Your Grace
The moment the footman helped them down, Cici fled up the front steps. The under butler opened the door, just in time for her to barrel through. Unfortunately, the object of her wrath stood halfway down the hall.
“How dare you humiliate me!” she hissed, voice raw with betrayal.
Words were not enough to defuse her anger. She needed a physical release. Short of slapping her husband’s handsome, treacherous face, she hurled her reticule at him. It spun through the air, a blur of fury and beads, but he caught it mid-flight.
“What the devil is this about?”
Cici didn’t answer. She gathered her skirts and fled up the stairs.
“Maggie!” he barked. “Explain.”
“We just had a lovely chat in the park with Lady Winslow.”
“And?” he asked when she didn’t continue.
“She made quite the scene. Cici is mortified.”
She wished Maggie had waited until she’d gotten to her room and locked the door because quick as a cat, Andrew was up the stairs, cutting off her ascent. He wrapped his hand around her upper arm.
“Let go of me,” she demanded, twisting hard against his grip.
“We’re taking this somewhere private. My study.”
“I prefer not to be in the same house, let alone the same room with you.”
She jerked her arm to get free, but he leaned in, voice low. “Wait until the door is closed before you consign me to perdition.”
“Hell is exactly where you belong, Your Grace.”
“I won’t tolerate disrespect,” he snapped. “Or public tantrums.”
“Respect is earned,” she shot back. “As is trust. I think you said that one. You’ve earned neither.”
They had reached the foyer, and Cici stubbornly dug in her heels.
“I’ll carry you if I must,” Andrew said, voice cool.
Denied escape to grieve the dismal state of her sham of a marriage, Cici wanted to show him a real tantrum, but servants lingered, eyes down, ears open
“Fine. I’ll go. But I won’t suffer your touch another moment.”
“Too bad,” he said, marching her down the hall. “Margaret, join us.”
Inside the study, Cici tore away from his grip and took refuge in a distant chair. Maggie stood between them.
The door slammed shut. Andrew faced them, jaw clenched.
“Sister, since you seem the only one thinking clearly, what offense have I committed this time?”
Her friend’s gaze met hers. On the verge of breaking down, and incapable of rational speech, Cici nodded her silent consent.
“Lady Winslow claims you’ve resumed your association.”
“She’s lying.”
“Is she?” Cici’s voice cracked. “You were seen at her house after the wedding. She says you visited again two nights ago.” Although she tried to hold the tears at bay, one overflowed and rolled down her cheek. Angry at her weakness, she wiped it away and somehow managed to continue. “It echoes everything Elizabeth wrote and what I’ve heard whispered behind my back.”
“And instead of asking me,” he said bitterly, “you believed them.” Andrew ran a hand through his hair, agitated. “Maggie, leave us.”
