Page 129 of Harpy of the Ton
“I only meant to keep her for a month,” Lawrence said.
“Her accident was overfourmonths ago!” Trelawney cried.
“I-I liked having her,” Lawrence said. “And she grew to like being with me.”
“She’s done a damned sight more than that,” Trelawney said. “My Alice tells me she’s never seen a woman so much in love.”
“Sweet Lord—does Mrs. Trelawney know?”
“Of course she doesn’t!”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because you’ve still got your balls. If Alice knew what you’d done, much as she dislikes Lady Arabella—therealLady Arabella—she’d have sliced them off and served them to her pug.”
“What are you going to do?” Lawrence asked.
“Me? Nothing. I’ll leave that to your conscience.”
If Trelawney spoke the truth, then Dunton—the man who’d forsaken Bella, leaving her to the mercy of strangers—wanted her back. But Lawrence had no intention of giving her to a man who didn’t love her—not when he loved her more than life itself.
“She’s happy,” he said. “We’rehappy. Do you think Dunton would make her happy?”
Trelawney wrinkled his nose. “True—Dunton only wants her fortune. But that’s not your decision to make. You took her under deception, gave her no choice. In what way does that make you the better man?”
“I’mnotlike Dunton!”
“Aren’t you? Many would say yours is the greater sin. In the eyes of the law, itisthe greater sin.”
Lawrence tightened his hold on the glass. Then, with a crack, it shattered in his grip. Shards bit into his flesh, and he winced as the liquor spilled over his hand, causing the cuts to sting.
But he relished the pain. It was the least he deserved.
Oh, Bella, what have I done?
“Take this.” Trelawney held out a handkerchief. “A waste of a good port—and a good glass. Allow me.” He grasped Lawrence’s wrist and turned his hand over. Lean, strong fingers plucked shards of glass from his palm, then placed the handkerchief against the wounds.
“A waste of a good handkerchief, also,” Trelawney muttered. “My wife embroidered the edge with my initials. Still—it’s not the done thing to let a guest bleed over my Aubusson rug.” The corner of his mouth curved into a smile. “That would be a waste of a good rug.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s Bella you should apologize to.”
“You meanLady Arabella.”
“I like Bella considerably more,” Trelawney said. “And it’s Bella who deserves the truth, for her sake, and yours. I’ll not betray you—not when I can see how deeply you love her. But if youdolove her, then you must tell her the truth. A sin kept hidden is never buried—it lies dormant, like a seed, until, when it’s ready to grow, it breaks through the surface, at which point there’s no absolution. And then…”
“Then what?” Lawrence asked.
“Then all hope for redemption is gone.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Bella clung toher husband’s arm as he steered her around the garden.
Today was a day of triumph. The other guests milled about, their chatter punctuated by expressions of admiration as they wandered among the marble columns and arched hedges.
And to think, they were guests at the big house, as if the Trelawneys considered them equals—friends, even!
