Beauty Tempts the Beast (Sins for All Seasons #6) - Lorraine Heath Page 0,70
my fitting on Friday.” She tossed two chips into the pile. She’d gotten good at flicking her wrist just so in order to make them land on top of the others, so they made that lovely little clacking.
He was staring at her as though he didn’t know her any longer. And she realized with both a bit of satisfaction and sadness that he didn’t. “I’m certain her father will sort it.”
His two disks clattered.
“I do hope you’re correct. We wouldn’t want to see her cheated out of what she has rightfully earned.” She looked to Danny. One corner of his mouth quirked up slyly as he flicked his bet into the pile. As long as he stayed in the game, it would continue as would the new game she was playing. She picked up two wooden tokens and tapped them on the table. “When is the wedding to take place?”
“January. St. George’s, naturally.”
Naturally. The same church they’d chosen. The same month. It was surprising that the hurt had the same impact as the sting of a bee, which was hardly anything at all. Perhaps because while Benedict kept his hands locked around his upper arms so he couldn’t be accused of slipping her cards, he had slid his booted foot across the floor until it was nestled against hers, announcing secretly to her his solidarity and support as though they had been heralded with banners waving and trumpets blaring. Her knee knocked accidentally against his, and then returned to rest there, to absorb more fully the comfort he was offering. He fortified her with the simplest of gestures. “To be honest, I was surprised you went with her.”
Toss.
“I’ve always liked her.”
Clatter.
Danny’s tokens hit the pile.
“You certainly didn’t waste any time in asking her.”
Flick.
“After having chosen poorly the first time, I decided it would behoove me to quickly move on so my misjudgment could be soon forgotten.”
As the growl sounded, his hand froze in midair and his gaze shifted ever so slightly and ever so slowly to the man sitting beside her, whose hands had balled into fists. They still remained against his arms, but it was evident he was straining to keep them there. “You’d be wise to choose very carefully what you say next,” Benedict advised in a silky voice that she suspected resembled the one used by Satan when he welcomed someone into hell.
She gave him a gentle smile. “He can say nothing that will hurt me. To be hurt, I would have to care what he thought, and I no longer do.”
It was with a bit of wonder that she realized she’d spoken true. A weight she’d been carrying for months suddenly fell away. What did his opinion matter?
“You’re different,” Chadbourne said.
She turned her attention back to him, but for him she had no smile. “Yes, I quite imagine I am.”
He leaned forward, elbows on the table, hands outstretched. “Althea, where you are concerned, I had no choice but to do what I did. You can see that, surely. My family, our children, they would have been ostracized had we gone forward with our marriage.”
Our children. The ones they would have created together—only now never would.
“We always have a choice, even when it seems we don’t.” She had chosen to follow a path that would make her scandalous but would lessen her brothers’ worry over her and reduce their sense of responsibility toward her.
“Fine.” He finally added his chips to the pile. “I chose to uphold my family honor.”
“More like family dishonor.” Most people would have muttered the words under their breath, but then Benedict Trewlove was not like most people. In truth, he was unlike anyone else she’d ever met. He made no excuses for any of his decisions, his choices. Even though she suspected a good many people questioned his wisdom in being associated with a brothel.
“I think I know who you are,” Chadbourne said, his eyes narrowed on Benedict in an attempt to appear threatening that only served to make his squinting look as though he was in want of spectacles in order to see properly.
“Think? I told you who I am.”
“You told me part of who you are. I recall now seeing you at a few weddings of late. You’re a Trewlove, which means you’re a bastard.”
“You spit that word out as though it’s something of which to be ashamed.”
“You’re unlawful. A nonperson. Nothing you do will change the circumstances of your birth.”