Page 38 of Captured By the Cold Duke
“At least my husband was actually his son,” she snarled. “Unlike you, whom he only treated like a son until he could discard you. Tell me, doesn’t it make your skin crawl to still be so loyal to a man who treated you so contemptuously? If anything, you should admire Thomas for standing up to his father’s tyrannical ways. You should have joined him in that, after the way his father treated you!”
This time, there was no mistaking the flash of anger in the earl’s eyes. “The late duke made many mistakes,” he said quietly. “Buthe was a good man. A noble man. And more of a father to me than my own.”
There was a quiet lull, during which Cherie was unsure what to say, and then the earl sighed and stretched his legs.
“I apologize for upsetting you, Your Grace,” he said, and his tone was much lighter and more pleasant than it had been moments before. “The truth is, I did not come here to discuss your husband. I came to see you.”
“Yes, and you have seen me…” Cherie said, looking pointedly at the door as if to suggest he leave now.
“But I am worried about you,” Rochford said, leaning towards her again, a frown creasing his brow. “You are clearly unhappy in your marriage.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, so startled by this statement that she didn’t even remember to be angry.
“Your husband… he is not attentive enough to you.”
“What are you talking about?”
Rochford smiled. “Your lack of a child,” he murmured, so quietly that Cherie wasn’t sure she had heard him correctly. “The fact that you will be waiting for a long time to announce that you are expecting. A man can read between the lines, Your Grace. Yourhusband is not attentive to you in a way that a wife requires. Especially a wife as beautiful and enchanting as you are.”
Cherie’s mouth fell open slightly as she realized what it was exactly that Rochford was saying.
“Howdareyou,” she whispered, still so shocked that she couldn’t summon the volume she knew she should have. “To come into my home, ask such impertinent questions, and then imply?—”
“I still find you as beautiful now as I did when I hoped we would marry,” Rochford interrupted. He didn’t even seem to have heard her. His eyes were gleaming, and there was an intensity in his tone that he hadn’t had before. “Everything I said at your wedding breakfast was true. I find you captivating.”
“I think it is time that you leave,” Cherie said, trying to sound as firm as possible. She stood, but Rochford remained seated.
“You deserve better, Cherie,” Rochford murmured. His eyes bored into hers, and she felt her breath catch in her throat. “You deserve a man who desires you. A man who will treat you right. A man who will teach you about passion and that you are his.
Cherie’s throat was so dry. She wanted to speak, but she couldn’t. Rochford didn’t seem to need her to respond. He stood, then reached out and took her hand.
“I could show you passion, Your Grace. I could show you what it means to be adored. To be worshiped.” He reached out and touched her cheek, and she shuddered. His fingers were so cold, and she could feel disgust throughout her whole body. Every part of her wanted to push him away, but somehow, she couldn’t.
Because part of me does want to know what it means to be worshiped. Part of me does want to be desired, to be treated right.
But not by him. Not by this disgusting man.
Iwant to be treated right by Thomas.
Rochford brushed a lock of hair away from her cheek. “Just because we didn’t marry doesn’t mean we can’t still be together,” he whispered. He was moving closer to her, his mouth looming closer. “Isn’t this what you have always told people you wanted? A passionate affair? Well, I can give you that, Cherie. There is nothing more exciting, more thrilling. It would fulfill every single one of your desires. And then you would finally have revenge against the man who forced you into marriage against your will.”
How does he know that?
So many emotions were coursing through her. She hated this man, his vile words, his presumption, the way he tried to manipulate her to avenge himself against her husband.
But she also knew that this might be the only chance she would ever get to be treated as a woman and a wife. The thought was so depressing that it made her want to wail.
Rochford was even closer now. Far too close. And in his cold eyes, there was a look of triumph. “Perhaps,” he murmured, “I could even give you the child you so desire.”
And suddenly all of her instincts kicked in at once.
She snatched her hand away and took a step back. “Do not touch me,” she hissed. “And kindly refrain from saying such intimate things to me. I am married to the Duke of Wheaton, not to you, and it is an affront to both me and my husband for you to speak to me in such a manner.”
Rochford’s expression immediately soured, and he stood up straighter, his cold eyes glaring into hers.
“So, you are loyal to your husband?”
“Of course I am! He might not be perfect, but he is ten times the man you will ever be.”
