Page 91 of Indecent
That was good since this was all quite enough. “Just that your family has an affliction that our child may or may not have. You should have told me. You had ample opportunity to.”
She’d wanted to discuss his family at Riverview, and he’d pushed her off. They’d traveled for several days before reaching Aberforth Place, and he’d avoided saying anything, even after they’d arrived and she met his great-aunts!
“I couldn’t think of how to tell you.”
“But I am yourwife. And I’m carrying yourchild.” She recalled what Minerva had said about him not planning to have children, that he’d meant to be the last Viscount Glastonbury. “Were you ever going to tell me about not wanting children? Be honest. Please.”
Distress lined his face. “I’d hoped not to. What would be the point?”
“The point is that you’re afraid, and you didn’t want to share your fear with me.” Proof yet again that feelings were useless. Here she was, feeling far too much and she didn’t want any of it.
“I was scared. And ashamed.”
A tear slid from her eye. She swiped it away furiously, her brows pitching low over her eyes. “You didn’t want this. I entrapped you, regardless of what you insist. Furthermore, I didn’t want this either.” Not originally, but she’d come to want it very much.
Emotion, impossible to hide away or ignore, roiled inside her. She tried to take a deep breath and failed, her chest constricting. She felt like she was drowning, her throat blocked as panic overtook her.
Too much had happened. She’d found out she was carrying a child. She’d discovered her real mother—and that her friends were her cousins. Then she’d gotten married to a man who’d been engaged to someone else and who hadn’t even wanted to marry her. She’d entrapped him, and it was no surprise he hadn’t told her his deepest secrets. Why would he?
She’d also realized she’d fallen in love with this man, who couldn’t possibly return the emotion.
Tuck it away, Prudence.
Her mother’s voice sounded in her head, a welcome balm to the chaos tossing inside her. The moment of calmness was fleeting. She needed quiet and serenity. She needed to get away from Bennet.
“Pru, you don’t have to go.”
“I do, actually. You didn’t want me here, and I think that may have been your best decision. I’ll leave for London immediately.” She pinned him with a cool stare as she shuttered her emotions as best she could. They were still there, boiling beneath the surface, making her feel as though she could burst into tears at any moment. She refused to do that. “You’re going to let me go.”
Then she turned and left his study, eager to put time and space between them.
Two days after Prudence left, Bennet began to rouse from his drunken stupor. That meant it was time for more wine. Or whatever he could find.
He stumbled down to the kitchens and made his way to the wine cupboard only to find it locked. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, rattling the door.
“There you are,” Great-Aunt Minerva said crossly, surprising him so that he banged his forehead against the wood.
“Ow.” He rubbed his hand over his wounded flesh as he turned.
Great-Aunt Minerva was not alone. Hell, she was never alone. Those bloody squirrels were always in her apron. Great-Aunt Flora also stood at her side.
“You look terrible,” Great-Aunt Minerva said. “I realize you’re upset about Prudence, but this isn’t like you.”
“I’m more than upset.” He felt as though his insides had been torn out and stomped into the ground. There was nothing but an aching despair. He’d been so stupid not to tell her the truth. No, he’d been stupid to think they could have a real marriage after she’d been clear about not wanting one.
He’d been stupid about a great many things.
“We’re all stupid sometimes,” Great-Aunt Flora said.
Bennet blinked as a headache crept across his skull. “Did I say that out loud?”
Great-Aunt Minerva stroked the head of one of the squirrels. “You need to go after her.”
“And we’re coming with you.” Great-Aunt Flora lifted her chin with an expression that dared him to refuse her. “You never should have let her leave.”
“I’m not her jailer,” Bennet slurred. “Besides, she saw all of us and doesn’t want us. Why would she? We’re all tainted. Broken.”
“Definitely stupid.” Great-Aunt Minerva shook her head. “We’re a bit off, but we’re not broken. You definitely aren’t. As much as we like to claim you as a St. James, you are not like us.”
