Page 78 of The Duke of Ruin
Three sharp inhalations filled the room as all three women gaped at the baronet. Meanwhile, Simon’s hand curled into a fist. He wasn’t fond of violence, particularly after what he’d done—the revelation from his mother stole through his brain, momentarily distracting him. It was enough for Diana to flee the room before he could stop her.
Torn between wanting to thrash her father and chasing his wife, he chose the only path he could. He ran out after her.
Diana nearly stumbledas she reached the landing of the stairs. She grasped the railing hard and forced herself to take a breath. But she didn’t stop. She tore up the last few steps and raced to their bedchamber, throwing the door closed as she ran inside.
Her chest heaved, and her eyes were wet. She shook horribly as rage and sadness ripped through her.
“Diana.”
She couldn’t bear to turn and look at Simon. That he’d seen that horrid side of her father filled her with shame.
“G-go away.”
He came up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. “Not a chance.”
She lurched forward and moved quickly to the other side of their bed, putting it between them. “D-don’t t-touch m-me.” She couldn’t bear it just then. Not with the memories pouring in on her, threatening to drown her in their weight.
“Please, Diana. Don’t let him do this to you. You’re safe now. I’m going to toss him out when I go back downstairs, and he’ll never be able to hurt you again.”
An anguished sob escaped her mouth. “You think it’s over?” The question was a ragged whisper she had to force from her lips. “I c-can’t f-for-forget wh-what he d-did. It’s al-always with me. And ev-every t-time I f-fal-falter, ev-every t-time this w-weak-weakness c-comes o-over m-me, I’m r-re-reminded of my in-inad-inadequa—” She swore violently before shouting, “inadequacy.”
It took every bit of self-control she’d learned to get that word out. Self-loathing filled her.
“What did he do to you?” The question was low, and his gaze intense. “I’ll listen—and there’s no shame. How can I possibly think less of you after what I’ve done?”
She hated the self-derision in his tone—it was too close to how she felt. They were a disaster, she realized. But no, he wasn’t. Not really. “Y-you’re a g-good m-man, S-Simon. Y-you j-just m-made a m-mis-mistake. Y-you w-were a-ang-angry.”
“You really think I pushed her.” He sounded surprised, devastated. “After all this time telling me I wasn’t a murderer, now you believe it.” He shook his head. “I just realized thatIdidn’t really believe it.” He wrapped his hand around the bedpost. “I’d thought it was an accident and that you thought so too.”
“I d-did. B-but kn-knowing what w-we know n-now… I-I’ve s-seen you wh-when you’re up-upset. Like n-now. L-look at your h-hand, Simon.”
His head turned, and she watched the color drain from his face as he saw how white his knuckles were, how hard his hand gripped the wood, as if he could choke it.
“Y-you gr-grabbed me l-like that in Br-Brereton, wh-when y-you m-met the Tafts. It hurt, and y-you h-had n-no idea.”
He gasped, then dropped his hand and shook it out.
His gaze was unfocused, his face pale. “I don’t remember arguing with her. I don’t remember that…rumor.” He turned from her, and then he went down, sliding to the floor against the other side of the bed.
Diana rushed around and knelt beside him. His eyes were open, glazed, as they stared off into nothing. His breathing was shallow, his lips parted. Her heart was racing as she tried to reason what to do. He hadn’t fainted, but neither was he entirely there.
She gently touched his arm, then his shoulder. Then she caressed his neck and murmured his name. It took another moment, but he finally blinked. He turned his head and squinted briefly.
“The lines are back between your eyes.” He reached out and smoothed his thumb over her flesh. The touch was light and abrupt. His arm dropped back down to his side, and he looked away from her. “I loved her very much. I felt so lucky to have found that, to have foundher. And then she was gone, and I thought I’d never be whole again.”
The words poured from him like a confession. And they seared her soul. She’d known he loved her, but to hear it from his lips, and to witness the depth of the emotion he’d felt tore at her insides. How could she possibly fill the void Miriam had left?
“I don’t remember that…what my mother said.” He shuddered. “I certainly don’t remember grabbing her, but then I don’t remember grabbing you either. I donow, but at the time, I had no idea.” He turned his head toward her again and blinked. “Am I a monster?”
She shook her head fiercely, unable to speak. She was working so hard to control her speech, but emotion was playing merry hell with her efforts.
He blinked again, and she realized there were tears in his eyes. “When I think of her carrying someone else’s child, and I loved her so much… Maybe I am capable of murder.”
She didn’t know what to say. Love was such a foreign emotion. She knew hate could drive someone to do terrible things. Just look at her father. He hated her and her affliction.
Simon went on. “It always bothered me that people said we’d argued. Our marriage was perfectly harmonious. There were no disagreements, no quarrels.” He looked up at the ceiling and squinted briefly, his head tipping to the side. “In truth, sometimes we fought over the last cake.”
Miraculously, Diana felt the urge to laugh, but she didn’t. Leave it to Simon to find a bead of humor, even in this agonizing moment.
