Page 77 of The Duke of Ruin
“That’s excellent to hear,” Mother said. “Perhaps it will improve my son’s reputation. He’s in need of good favor.”
“Not from me,” Diana said quietly. She looked at him as he turned to look at her, and their eyes connected for a long, beautiful moment, their hands still clasped. When they finally broke the contact and directed their attention back at the dowager, she was scrutinizing Diana.
“Do you know the truth of what happened here?”
“Mother.” Simon practically growled the word. He’d put up with quite a bit—hell, he’d put up with everything Society had thrown at him, both to his face and behind his back—but he wouldn’t tolerate his mother insulting his wife in her own bloody drawing room.
“Yes.” Diana’s answer was firm.
“You’re aware they argued, that he grabbed her?”
Diana’s grip tightened. “Yes.”
“And do you know why they argued?”
Simondidn’t even know why they’d argued. He’d never been able to reconcile it. He and Miriam hadn’t ever quarreled. His insides churned. “Mother, how can you know that?”
“Because I do, and it’s perhaps time you do too since you can’t remember.” Despite her obnoxious line of questioning, her tone had carried a thread of warmth and care. Until the last, which she’d delivered with a healthy dose of disdain. She’d despised his drinking. It was a remnant of his rakish ways, which she’d loathed.
“W-why do you think it’s your place to do this?” Diana’s voice trembled slightly, and Simon caught the stutter. He refused to allow her to be upset.
“Watch yourself, Mother,” he warned.
“The rumor amongst the staff was that Miriam had been unfaithful, that the babe wasn’t Simon’s.”
Simon felt as though the world had disappeared beneath him. He was floating, untethered and adrift in a void. He felt nothing.
Until he felt the grip of her hand on his. Suddenly, he had something to hold on to. Someone.
And just when he thought nothing could get worse, Lowell stepped over the threshold and announced, “Sir Barnard and Lady Kingman.”
Diana’s hand went slack in his, and all the color left her face. Simon leapt to his feet, intending to physically vanquish her father if necessary. Dammit, he’d wanted to manage this meeting on his own terms. OnDiana’sterms.
The baronet was a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark hair salted liberally with gray. His dark brows pitched low over his eyes, which he’d targeted on Diana. “Found you at last.”
“Found her? Did you misplace her?” Simon’s mother asked.
Sir Barnard ignored her, his furious gaze never leaving Diana. “You’ve caused me a great deal of trouble.” He tipped his head up to look at Simon. “But not as much as you. Kidnapping my daughter and forcing her to marry you… You’re despicable.”
His mother’s high-pitched squeal caused Humphrey to bark. “Kidnapping? You kidnapped her?”
Simon scowled at the room at large. “No.”
Diana rose slowly. “He d-did not k-kidnap m-me.”
There went her stutter again. Simon was going to throttle her father.
“You went of your own accord?” her father snapped. “Why accept one duke only to throw him over for another? Did we teach you nothing?”
“I’m a d-duch-duchess. Wh-what does it m-matter wh-who the gr-groom is?”
The baronet shook his head in disgust. “Listen to you.” He curled his lip toward Simon. “Do you hear her? I can’t imagine you were aware of her defect when you decided to wed her. But the jest is on you, because you’re stuck with her now.” He looked back to Diana. “At least youarea duchess, even if your husband is a pariah.”
Throughout this exchange, Diana’s mother simply stood there and watched, her face a mask of calm. In fact, she reflected no emotion whatsoever, as if she couldn’t hear the vitriol pouring from her husband’s mouth.
Diana lifted her chin and stared her father in the eye. “Yes, I-I am a d-duchess. You owe m-me r-respect.”
“I owe you nothing. You’re a duchess becauseImade you one, not him. All he made you was a whore.”
