Page 67 of Wickedly Yours
“Neither, actually.” Lord Marsh shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You have always been good with numbers and financial dealings. Clever. You do not tell me, and I do not ask, but I hear things. I know you are involved in trade. I suspect your ambitions stretch much farther than being a mere earl.” A faint smile crossed his lips and his eyes opened. “Unlike me in every way possible. I should have known there was another issue at hand for I couldn’t understand White’s determination. He’s all but convinced your mother the benefit of your marrying Gwendolyn far outweighs any scandal from the dissolution of your marriage.”
Rowan opened his mouth to reply when the door to the study burst open to reveal his mother, the violet silk swirling about her body in her distress.
“Dear Lord, she is atrial. Rude. Snobbish. Lacking in any manners,” Lady Marsh uttered, her hand placed dramatically against her forehead. “Please tell me, my lord,” she addressed his father, “that you have talked some sense into our son. Thankfully Lady Gwendolyn is the most patient of creatures.”
“I hope so Mother, for she will be waiting a lifetime.” Rowan set his glass down thinking how ridiculous a creature his mother was, though he loved her dearly. “I hate to disappoint you but I’ve no intention of annulling my marriage. It has been consummated.” He looked his mother dead in the eye. “Repeatedly.”
His mother’s hand flew to her throat as if to stifle a scream, whether from his vulgarity or the idea that even now, Arabella could be carrying her grandchild. Then she gave him a brilliant smile. “Lord White assures me that while a divorce would be difficult, neither is it impossible, especially if His Grace does not impede the process. We will wait a few more months and I will speak to Jemma—”
Rowan slammed his palm down on the table with such force both his parents jerked in alarm. “Let me be clear, Mother, lest you misunderstand. Never did Iever, consider marrying Lady Gwendolyn. I would not have agreed to a match under any circumstances. I find her unappealing in every sense and dislike her parents.”
“You don’t mean that.” Her lower lip quivered.
“I do.” If he didn’t leave this instant, he would say something regrettable. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll collect Arabella and take my leave.”
“She’s already left.” His mother looked towards his father. “After threatening me.”
“Threatening you?” He gave a snort of disbelief. “What did you say to her?” Rowan demanded. He had underestimated his mother and would not do so again. She’d deliberately provoked Arabella, he was certain.
“Nothing. She is simply ill-mannered and hostile.” His mother swallowed. “Not right for you in any way.”
Rowan moved until he loomed over his mother’s diminutive form. “Mother, Iloveyou. Truly. And because I do, I have tolerated for years your persistence to meddle in my life. I have tried to be a dutiful son.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I now see that has been a mistake for it has allowed you to believe I am someone I am not.” He took his mother’s hand. “I amnotJames. I willneverbe James. You adored him. He was the heir and I the spare. I blame myself nearly every day for his death though there is little I could have done to stop such from happening. I have tried to please you.”
His mother’s eyes welled with tears. “Do not—” She took a breath.
“I tire of this game, Mother.Iwas the son who came home dirty. Whom you caught cursing at a village boy after I blackened his eye. I was disobedient. Stole the pies from Cook. I used to dice in the kitchens with the grooms. I have been ruthless in business sometimes ruining a gentleman to gain what I wish. I’ve kept mistresses. I am good at cards though I pretend I am poor at it because it’s an advantage. I spend my days intrade.”
She was shaking her head. “No. You are an honorable man. A gentleman. Perfect. Dutiful.”
“No, Mother,” he said as gently as he could. “That was James.”
A great sob came from his mother and she pushed him away. “Why are you saying such things to me? Her influence over you has led you to lie to me in such a way.” His father rose from his seat and wrapped his arms around her to mutter soothing words in her ear. “James would never speak to me of such unsavory things.”
Rowan looked to his father and said more forcefully, “But I amnotJames. And I was not forced to marry Arabella, Iwantedto marry her no matter the original circumstances. I will not discard her because you aren’t pleased. Truthfully, I worry for your sanity that you continue to undermine my marriage. I do not wish us to be estranged, Mother. But if you continue down this path, I will not visit you again nor welcome you inourhome.”
“You don’t mean that.” His mother was sobbing now, clutching at his father.
“I do.” Rowan bowed to both his parents. “The duck was excellent. I bid you good night.”
37
Arabella paced across the floor of her room, her hand twitching against the dressing robe. She had come upstairs immediately upon her arrival and ordered a bath wishing to wash the sting of rejection from her skin. The scorching water did nothing to wash away Lady Marsh’s dislike. It was almost as if the woman could see the stain of the Great Lie, as she had taken to calling her acceptance of Corbett’s proposal. It was as if Rowan’s mother could sniff the air around Arabella discerning she was a bad seed, capable of ruining his life just by association.
I need to tell Rowan. Admit to all of it.
A fierce pounding echoed in her chest, the first tremors of fear at the thought of admitting how truly awful she was. Or had been. Rowan would discard her. Force her to live elsewhere. Possibly even send her back to Wales. In every instance, the end result was the same. He would hate her for proving his mother had been right all along about Arabella.
The wet strands of her hair whipped around her body at the sound of footsteps moving in the bed chamber next door. She heard Rowan dismiss his valet before the door between their rooms swung open. Would he be angry she had left?
“Contrary, mulish woman.” He padded on bare feet to her, ripping off his neckcloth as he did so. He had already shed his coat and waistcoat.
“The duck did not agree with me. I was ill.”
The fine lawn of his shirt joined the neckcloth on the floor. He kicked both away.
Arabella found she couldn’t speak when faced with the utter masculine beauty of Rowan. She couldn’t look away from his torso, watching in fascination the way his muscles rippled as he moved towards her. A low hum of desire vibrated across her body. Her fingers fluttered against her robe wanting to touch the golden kissed skin.
I love you, her heart whispered.
