Page 92 of A Night of Desire with a Duke
He had stood before all of London and sworn to her innocence; when she knew, with aching certainty, that she was anything but innocent. That she had indeed shared his bed at the Black Swan. And someone knew.
The knowledge pressed against her chest like a physical weight. Her relief at being spared ruin warred with an almost painful sense of deceit. James’s protection was absolute, hisloyalty terrifying in its scope. But he had committed perjury of the soul for her sake, and she...she had let him.
Around her, conversation swelled again—amused remarks, sighs of admiration, a few lingering gasps of disbelief. To them, she was the picture of virtue vindicated, the poor wronged bride saved by her gallant duke. None of them could see the truth pulsing behind her calm expression: that she was trembling inside, not from fear of exposure now, but from the knowledge that her salvation had come at the price of his honesty.
James turned to her then, his voice low and steady. “The terrace,” he murmured. “You need air."
He guided her through the crowd, both of them ignoring the calls and comments. The cool night air was a relief after the stifling ballroom.
"How?" Catherine asked as soon as they were alone. "How did she know?"
"Someone talked. A servant at the inn, probably. Bribed or threatened into revealing what they saw."
"And they did see, James. I did sleep in your room that morning. We did..."
"I know." He pulled her into his arms. "I know exactly what we did. And I don't regret a moment of it."
"We could have been ruined."
"No. I would never let that happen."
"But if she'd pushed harder, if she'd produced her witness?"
"Then I would have admitted everything and married you anyway. Let society clutch their pearls. I don't care."
"I care. Your reputation..."
"Means nothing compared to you." He cupped her face in his hands. "Catherine, I would have married you that morning at the inn if I could have. Everything since has just been waiting."
"Three more days," she whispered.
"Two days, twenty-one hours, and sixteen minutes."
"You really are counting."
"Every second."
They stood there, holding each other, as the sounds of the ball drifted through the windows.
"We should return," Catherine said finally.
"Must we?"
"Unless you want more gossip."
"There's already going to be gossip. Miss Worthing's dramatic exit will be the talk of London for weeks."
"Good. Maybe it will distract from speculation about our wedding night."
James laughed, dark and promising. "Nothing could distract me from thinking about our wedding night."
Chapter 17
They returned to find the ballroom in full swing, the drama having apparently elevated the evening from mere ball to Event of the Season. Everyone wanted to congratulate them, to assure them they'd never believed Miss Worthing's accusations, to express shock at her behavior.
"Jealousy," Lady Jersey pronounced. "Pure, poisonous jealousy."
"The girl couldn't accept defeat," Lady Cowper agreed. "Though attempting blackmail? That's beyond the pale."
