Page 30 of The Notorious Lord Knightly
“I don’t understand. Whyever not?”
Tell her the truth. The truth. The truth.But the shock of it was still rumbling through him, tearing apart the very fabric of his being, like an earthquake that was rapidly destroying all in its wake, leaving behind gaping holes into which souls fell, never to be seen again. He was not who he’d always thought himself to be. He was notwhathe’d always thought himself to be. The revelations had left him floundering, tossed about ina raging tempest at sea with no hope of reaching the safety of land.
The one solid aspect of his life... he was having to shove beyond reach, because if he grabbed her, she would drown as well. The marriage she dreamed of would not be. Not filled with happiness and joy. He could already sense the bitterness moving in to inhabit his soul. And the children she wanted could never be. Not if she remained with him.
He wanted to be gentle with her. He wanted to be kind. But he needed to destroy all hope. Needed her to hate him more than she mourned the loss of him so the fires of her animosity would burn to cinders any remnants of sorrow. He needed her angry if he wished to leave her with a portion of her heart that she could someday give to someone else.
He released a low, dark scoff, the effort nearly strangling him. “I awoke this morning and wondered what the bloody hell I was doing, to shackle myself to one woman for the remainder of my life when there are so many to be had.”
The pleat between her brows deepened into a furrow. Another blink. “I don’t understand what you’re saying. You love me. I love you. Why would either of us ever want to be with another?”
Then he knew what he had to say, the words that would tear her from him forever. “I don’t love you. I merely got caught up in the fantasy. You’re so beautiful. Certainly deserving of the words. And I liked the way you looked at me after I uttered them. And the things we would do after I said them.”
In her expressive eyes, the devastating hurt andanger burned into an explosive fury. “You couldn’t have decided this yesterday? Or last week? Or before you even asked for my hand?”
No tears were welling in her eyes, and he might have taken comfort in that if it weren’t for the fact he heard them in her voice. But the answer to her question was a resounding no because the duke he’d spent his early years striving to please had waited until he knew he’d inflict the most damage to his son’s reputation—with no care at all for the agony and humiliation he’d cause this lovely woman who was deserving of none of this—to reveal the truth of the matter and offer his damnable bargain. A bargain Knight had originally tossed in his face and now would have to humble himself to accept. But what choice did he have really?
“You can’t be surprised. You once claimed to know my reputation for loving and leaving.”
The sting of his cheek as her palm met it shouldn’t have taken him by surprise, and yet it did. But more, the blow had been effectively delivered to his heart as well. He wished she’d smack him again, wouldn’t stand there so stoic and proud and determined not to let him see the agony, but it was there, mirrored in the brown depths of her eyes. The disbelief, the fury, and yes, even the hatred. He’d never felt more despicable or disgusted with himself. No doubt another reason the duke had waited until the last minute to pay his heir a visit—to give him reason to loathe himself as the duke loathed him.
Tears were suddenly pooling in her eyes, and while he’d hoped to be spared the sight of them, he knew hedeserved to see them, to have them haunting him for the remainder of his days.
“I hate you,” she rasped as she turned away from him. “I never want to set eyes on your face again.”
Of course she wasn’t going to beg him to marry her. It wasn’t her way. Proud girl.
“I’ll give your father time to escort you away from here. Then I’ll go out and announce to those who’ve gathered in the church that you changed your mind,” he said.
“So they’ll despise me for spurning one of their own?” She was studying her fingers, knotted together, and he suspected she’d intertwined them to stop from striking him again.
“I’ll make it clear the fault rests with me. That you came to the conclusion, rightly so, I would not make a good husband.”
She glanced over her shoulder. “How could I have judged you so erroneously? The man standing before me now is not the same one who was in my bedchamber only a few hours ago. Was it a performance from the beginning? For what purpose? To humiliate me... and my father?”
“No... I... you wouldn’t be happy with me, Reggie, not in the long run. Believe it or not, someday you’ll look back on this moment and be grateful you didn’t take that walk up the aisle with me.”
“I shall never look back upon this day... or think of you. You are dead to me.”
Chapter 10
I had never wanted as I wanted now, his hand resting against more than my cheek, but gliding over other areas, causing little eruptions of pleasure wherever he touched.
—Anonymous,My Secret Desires, A Memoir
June 15, 1875
He’d come because he hadn’t wanted to disappoint the child. Not as he’d once disappointed her mother. Regina’s father had been furious, justifiably so, when Knight had instructed him to take her away from the church before he announced to the gathering that no marriage was to take place. The earl’s fist had landed against Knight’s jaw with a force he’d not expected of the older gent. He’d wanted an explanation that Knight had refused to give. Her father had threatened to ruin him, to ensure no father gave him permission to wed their daughter. Knight had been more than willing to give him that victory.
He imagined, if her father were still alive, he’d object to Knight’s presence here today as much as Reginadid. But ever since the little sprite had handed him the invitation, he must have glanced at it a dozen times and traced his fingers over the intricate loops. Now standing beside her mother, he could barely take his gaze from the girl as she played with his gift.
“How did things go with Chidding after I left?” he asked, striving to retain a neutrality in his tone he absolutely did not feel. If it hadn’t gone well, he’d bear the brunt of disappointment. If it had gone well, the answer would slice into his heart as effectively as a cat-o’-nine tails.
“Well. We waltzed. He brought me a lemonade. To be honest, he barely left my side until the final dance.”
“Laying claim to you, then. He didn’t do that before we danced.”
“Are you taking credit?”
