Page 71 of Wickedly Yours
“Love?” he snarled at her. “Thisisn’t love, Arabella. I just like fucking you.”
She fell back against the chair. The vulgarity of his words shading every intimacy they’d shared, tearing the happiness from her. Had it meant nothing to him? Shutting her eyes against the blatant disgust in his face, she forced herself to stand.
“Fine,” she hissed, summoning all of the bitterness that rapidly filled the hollowness left by his impending loss. “Then divorce me as your mother wishes. Get your act of parliament and marry your precious Lady Gwendolyn. I’ll not fight you. Better yet, why not sue for an annulment? I’ll be glad to testify that you areunableto satisfy me.”
His knuckles turned white as his grasp tightened on the glass in his hand. For a moment she feared he would throw the crystal at her head. His face grew hard and unrelenting, lips curling into a grimace as if speaking to her caused him physical pain.
“If that’s what it takes to beridof you, so be it. And now,” he grabbed the entire decanter off the sideboard and waved her toward the door, “get the fuck out of my study.”
Arabella raised her chin, refusing to allow him to see the devastation of his words. She stood and moved towards the study door. She had become unmoored, set adrift like a rat-infested ship, cast out to sea by the one person she wasn’t sure she could live without.
“Don’t forget to shut the door.”
Spots swam before her eyes as she focused on keeping her breathing even, afraid she might faint as she made her way upstairs. Reaching the safety of her chamber she marched directly to the door separating her rooms from Rowan’s and locked it. With a small cry, Arabella fell to her knees, pushing her forehead to the rug, welcoming the chafing of the fibers against her skin. Nothing would ever wash away the stain of the person she used to be. She would never escape that Arabella.
Rowan’s disgust was deserved. Shehadlied. But his affection had so quickly turned to hatred, she wondered if he’d ever cared for her at all.
Annulment or divorce, what did it matter? Whichever he chose, her reputation would be in shreds, her future assured. London would offer her no refuge. The proceedings may well take years, but once free, she could travel to the Continent and never return. Alone. Adrift for the remainder of her life. Curling into a ball on the floor, Arabella wondered if it were truly possible to die from a broken heart.
I will not die from a broken heart. My punishment is far worse. I must live with one.
40
“Lord Malden?”
Rowan looked up from his dinner, a bowl of something rather mushy and unappetizing he assumed to be stew. He wasn’t sure. The Fox Hole, a tiny tavern on the outskirts of Dorking in Surrey was not known for fine cuisine. He did not choose the tavern for the quality of the food but rather the proximity to the patch of land formerly belonging to Squire Tidwell.
“Hello Hind. I’d wondered where you’d gotten off to.” Reginald Hind was truly the architect of the rail line project and Rowan’s business partner. Son of an Oxford professor, Hind possessed a rather unique education. He was an architect by trade but had vast knowledge of engineering. Not wealthy in the least, he’d found Rowan quite by accident, drawn together by their mutual love of the advances in industry and transportation.
“I’ve found our surveyor, Johnson. He got lost coming through the woods,” Mr. Hind said as he lowered himself into the seat across the table. Raising his hand, he summoned the barmaid over and ordered an ale.
“Our surveyor lost his way? Doesn’t bode well for our project, does it?” Mr. Johnson, the surveyor, was two days late in joining Hind in Dorking. Rowan had wondered if the man would indeed arrive. Hind never had any doubts.
“Well, my lord,” Hind stroked the ends of the bushy mustache hanging from the top of his lip, “the woods are especially thick this time of year. Easy to get turned around when you don’t know your way. I’ve put him up in a boarding house run by a widow.” Hind wiggled his eyebrows. “A very merry widow.”
Rowan sat back and took a draught of his ale. He couldn’t care less about the sexual escapades of Hind, of which there were many. Rowan found he didn’t care for many things as of late. Food held no taste. Drinking himself to oblivion had only worked for a short time. He even visited his former mistress hoping to stir some sort of feeling within him but experienced not a hint of arousal.
I miss Arabella.
Longing for her pierced him as Hind drawled on about the widow who ran the boarding house. Rowan worked from early in the morning until late in the evenings, sometimes falling asleep in the small parlor of the house in Dorking he rented. He’d fled here after his confrontation with Arabella. Ironically the sale of Longstreet’s land to him came only minutes before Barker approached Rowan at his solicitor’s office. Barker, smug and full of dislike for Arabella, made a mistake. Hopefully he was contemplating the error of his ways while sitting in prison.
“Malden? Are you listening to me?” Hind clapped his hands as a bowl of the stew was placed before him.
“You are bound for disappointment.” Rowan nodded to the bowl. “I’ve yet to determine whether it’s lamb or beef.”
Hind shrugged and put a spoonful in his mouth. “I have things well in hand here, should you wish to return to London. There’s no need for you to stay. We’ve had everything in place for months only waiting on the land. I’m still not sure how you managed such a thing.” He frowned as he chewed. “Good God, you’re right.”
Rowan had been avoiding London. At first, he’d been so angry with Arabella his only thought had been to get as far away from her as possible. He’d left her a terse note only saying he’d gone away on business. He hadn’t trusted himself to speak to her. As the weeks slid by and he attempted to bury himself in the rail project and renovating the mills, Rowan was able to view things with more objectivity. He thought back to her reasons for involving herself with Corbett in the first place, the anger towards her brother and Jemma. It was easy to see how in a fit of pique she would agree to such a thing as marriage. Arabella wished to lash out, hurting those around her as she’d been hurt.
Knowing her as he did, Rowan could see all of it so clearly. Arabella nearly paid for her bitterness with a marriage to Corbett. Even knowing her motivation, the sense of betrayal he felt would not dissipate. She’d lied to him and he had yet to forgive her.
“Perhaps after the survey is completed,” Rowan said.
Petra had implored Rowan to return more than once. His mother, in particular, wished him home, her joy blatant at the estrangement between he and Arabella, though she didn’t know the cause. Mother was hosting a ball in Petra’s honor to celebrate his sister’s birthday and what she hoped would be an offer from Lord Dunning.
After finishing their stew, he and Hind walked back to the small cottage Rowan rented to share a drink and further discuss the clearing of Tidwell’s land. He lit a cheroot, blowing smoke into the late afternoon air and debated his return to London.
“Looks like London has found you, Malden.” Hind nodded towards the large, expensive coach and matched horses sitting outside the cottage. Four large footmen in livery and the driver stood around the vehicle.
