Page 127 of Better Love Next Time
“It must be Julian,” Georgiana said, heaving to her feet. She veered her watery gaze to Kitty. "And by the by, I will know more about your marriage.”
Kitty wrestled with her skirts, clambering to stand on trembling limbs.An old man. It wasn’t the earl. It could not be! “The old man… could it be Julian’s father, the earl?”
“If it is, pray he doesn’t stay long. He turns angels murderous.”
Kitty clutched her stomach as footsteps echoed on marble. Masculine murmurs conferred. Dread leadened her legs and feet just when she most needed to escape.
Father Dunlevy stepped through the threshold, deep lines etched at his eyes and brow. There was grey at his temples where there had been none two years before. Julian strode into the sitting room, his suit creased from traveling. He shut the door behind him and braced his hands at his back. His eyes suffused with light but it was not a pleasurable glow. It was bleak, like the sun’s glare pressing through winter clouds. When he inhaled a breath, it was determined.
He flicked a glance at Georgiana. “Have your guests assembled in the Gold Drawing Room while their rooms are readied. We’ll need liquor. Some champagne and claret.”
“Who aremyguests?” Georgiana asked.
“The St. Clair brood. Four generations. I’ve gathered the family to celebrate my marriage, which I will unveil in”—Julian consulted his watch—“twenty minutes time. I promise it will be worth the inconvenience.”
Georgiana turned to Kitty with a pointed study of her clenched hands buried in her black skirts. She brushed a soft hand to Kitty’s back. "Do you wish for me to remain?”
“Out, Georgie,” Julian said. "I must needs speak to my wife.”
After glaring at Julian, her friend marched from the room.
Children’s squeals and laughter pealed from the reception hall. Women’s voices. Men’s voices. One of them was the earl’s.
Was she in the midst of a nightmare? Kitty looked over the room, marking every shadow and corner. She was at Farendon. There was a crackling fire. Julian’s balled letter lay on the carpet where Georgiana had thrown it. Stephen’s toy soldiers were scattered over the carpet.
She looked to the bronze door knob. Her heart pounded in her ears to the earl’s words.Kill her. Kill her. The craven thing inside her began to howl.
“Father, you must leave immediately. Julian why did you bring him here?”
Julian cocked his head, his brow furrowed. “Father Dunlevy is here because you specifically said you must find him. And when he arrived in Southampton, I brought him here.”
“You don’t know.”
"What do I not know?” her husband asked quietly.
The trembling rose from her limbs to encompass her core, then her shoulders and jaw. Heat ran up the back of her neck.
“You did not tell your husband what happened to you,” Father Dunlevy said. "You allowed him to believe the worst of you.”
"I kept the secret for you!”
Father shook his head.
"What is your meaning, shaking your head? You dare to condemn me for my silence?”
“I do not condemn you, my sweet child.”
“Then do you doubt my reasons? Should I have allowed you to hang? Far better my husband should hate me than you become that monster’s victim. And lest your memory serves you poorly,I was his victim. Oh God, I should have crawled across hell to get back to Julian, no matter the risk to my safety. I did it for you!I saved you!”
She had never felt such rage for her decision. It had always been wrapped up in terror. Self-hatred for being weak, different, an impostor tainted by her faith. Who lived outside of the world of those who mattered. Always striving to be what they wanted. Smiling when they cut her.
“You could have taken me to Southampton,” she said to Father. “But you took me to Scotland. And you never once bid me to stand up to the earl. You could have. But you did not. And this—thisthinginside me. So cowardly. So craven. Soweak.”
Julian looked between the two of them. “Kitty, what are you saying?”
His mouth in a grim slant, Father Dunlevy’s eyes dulled. “I thought it was for the best.”
She saw it then. “You thought he wasn’t good enough for me.”
