Page 8 of A Scandalous Bargain
Bloody hell. “It would be a waste of their time, but I’m sure you’ll do what you must.” He pushed away from the doorway and unfolded his arms. “The funeral furnisher just left. They are sending women to prepare Thea. The service and burial will be Wednesday.”
Thea’s mother gaped at him. “You planned all that without me?”
“Thea was my wife, madam. It is my duty to care for her—in death as well as life. I’ve always taken my marriage vows seriously.” He added the last and immediately regretted it. Needling her in this manner was akin to what he’d done to Thea the night before.
Was it really? Thea had pushed him first, revealing truths he’d long suspected but had never wanted to face. He shook the thought away. He was doing the best he could to keep the rage and hurt inside him under tight rein.
Mrs. Chamberlain snorted. “You’ve done no such thing. Thea has told me about every one of your indiscretions.”
Thomas wanted to ask what those could be, but what would be the point? He’d never been unfaithful to his marriage despite ample opportunity and desire. “I’ll leave you alone.” He started to go, but her voice halted him.
“I will prepare her. Where is her maid?”
“Sleeping. She was hysterical.”
Mrs. Chamberlain removed her hat and gloves. “I’ll be staying—until Wednesday. Where is Regan? I wish to see my granddaughter.”
Thomas turned to face his mother-in-law. “Not today. I won’t have her upset. She’s lost her mother, and she barely understands.”
“You can’t keep me from seeing her.” She gave him a defiant look.
He stepped toward her, his lip curling. He didn’t care if he appeared menacing. “I can and I will. Don’t push me. This is my house, and I allow you to remain out of deference to my late wife. I will not, however, permit you to upset my daughter. You may stay. For now. Don’t make me regret my decision.”
After glowering at her a moment, Thomas turned on his heel and stalked from the room. He nearly ran into Baines, who was lurking in the hall.
“Mrs. Chamberlain will be staying until the funeral on Wednesday. Please have the guest room prepared.”
Baines inclined his head. “Of course.”
“Alert everyone that she isnotto see Regan today. And when she does see her tomorrow, I will be present.”
“I’ll take care of that at once.”
“She wants to see Spicer when she awakens. Will you take care of that also?”
Baines nodded. “Is there anything else?”
“Not at the moment. I’m going upstairs.”
Thomas went up to the sitting room between his bedchamber and Thea’s. He looked toward the door leading to her room and longed to burn everything inside it. Perhaps not everything. He should probably save some things for Regan. She would want to remember her mother. If she could—it was likely she would grow up not recalling the woman who’d given her life.
While that made him sad, he was also grateful. There was nothing good for hertoremember. He’d save a few mementoes and fabricate stories to go along with them so that Regan would believe her mother had loved her. It was the best he could do.
Thinking of mementoes, he realized he’d never found the penknife Thea had been clutching last night when she’d come at him on the balcony. She’d aimed the blade at the hollow of his throat. It was why he’d stepped to the side and she’d launched forward over the balcony.
If he hadn’t moved, she would have sunk the blade into him. He probably wouldn’t have died. But perhaps she wouldn’t have either.
Was he really telling himself he should have let her stab him? After all the other abuse he’d allowed her to heap upon him the past several years? He picked up a figurine from the writing desk and threw it across the room.
The second the sheepdog shattered, he regretted the rash action. Self-loathing and fear rose in his throat. He worked so bloody hard to contain his anger.
He took deep breaths to calm his racing pulse. Turning, he went out to the balcony. The early afternoon was warm, with a few high clouds, one of which was currently blocking the sun. Though he’d looked last night and again this morning, he searched the balcony once more for the penknife. It still wasn’t there.
He went to the low railing and gazed down at the garden. He’d also searched the cobblestones and the surrounding area, to no avail. It was as if the penknife had disappeared. Perhaps he’d imagined the damn thing.
Going back inside, he searched the writing desk, which was where she typically kept it and where she’d grabbed it from last night. The knife wasn’t there either.
He should look in her chamber too, he supposed, but he couldn’t bring himself to go in there. Not today.
Sadness and weariness settled into his bones. This wasn’t what he’d wanted. He’d married Thea hoping they would have a happy life together, a family full of love. At least he had Regan.
Clinging to the only beacon of happiness he had—the one that had kept him going the past several years—he went in search of his daughter. She was his joy and love, and he would do anything to keep her safe.
