how badly she had wanted to remain. Because she had every intention of ruining this man before she left him thirteen days from now. He deserved every bit of punishment she chose to mete out, and then some.
She told herself she would not enjoy it. But as the door closed at her back and she returned to the mocking emptiness of her chamber, she knew it for a bitter, heartbreaking lie.
Chapter Fifteen
Jack was hovering outside the drawing room like a bloody visitor in his own home. Ear pressed to the door. Attempting to glean any hints of conversation he could.
Because whilst he had risen in most exquisite fashion, the fates had chosen the unassuming hours following breakfast to deliver him the ultimate blow. After Nell’s unexpected visit to him that morning, he had fallen asleep. Quite unlike himself, as he preferred to be an early riser. He had risen after having missed the breakfast hour, in no better circumstances than he had been hours before.
Though Nell had drained him dry, he was still desperate for her. His body ached for hers. His heart ached for her, too. Which was why, after having dressed and shaved with the aid of his valet, he was so damned dismayed to learn Lady Needham was in the drawing room with a visitor most unwanted.
Viscount Bloody Sidmouth.
Fucking Tom.
Would it have been too much to ask for the blighter’s carriage to overturn? Or for him to find someone else’s wife to pant after?
He pressed his ear to the cool wood of the door, straining to hear.
“…come with me now.” Sidmouth’s low voice was vehement.
He sounded angry. Outraged, even.
Jack wondered how the viscount would feel if he knew his darling’s mouth had been upon Jack’s cock that very morning. For a brief moment, he fantasized about informing the bastard himself and then breaking his nose all over again.
But that would be uncivil.
Instead, he waited at the door.
Listening. Holding his breath. Biding his time. Hoping he would not overhear that which he had no wish to hear.
“Tom, please…” Nell’s voice was soft. Too quiet. Jack could not distinguish the rest of what she was saying.
Sidmouth’s voice rose. “You promised me, Nell. You promised you would come with me, whenever I was ready. You agreed it was the only way. Now you are telling me you need another fortnight with him?”
Thirteen days, Jack thought grimly. He was already one down.
“It is only thirteen days,” Nell said in a soothing tone, echoing Jack’s mind. “Needham has promised me the divorce at the end of those days. It will be better for us all—”
“Better for whom?” Sidmouth interrupted, the sound of his strides on the carpet telling Jack he was either striding away from Nell or toward her.
He hoped to hell it was away from her. His hand clenched into a fist at his side.
“Better for you and I, Tom.” Again, Nell’s voice was placating. “If I go with you now, and if we live openly together, the scandal will be far worse than a divorce will be. Needham has finally agreed to be civil about this matter.”
You and I.
The thought of Nell and Sidmouth as a matched pair made Jack ill.
“There is not a civil bone in that villain’s body,” Sidmouth said coldly. “Why the delay? Why a fortnight?”
“Thirteen days,” Nell corrected again, pausing. “He thinks he will be able to persuade me to change my mind.”
Correction, darling. I will change your mind.
Jack ground his molars.
“How does he presume to change your mind?” Sidmouth demanded. “Has he been forcing more of his attentions on you?”
Forcing? Forcing? By God, he had never forced Nell. She had always been a more than willing participant in their lovemaking. Had she told Sidmouth Jack had forced himself upon her?
Anger blindsided him, mingling with the possessive furor he could not seem to tamp down. Nell was his wife. His, damn it. And Sidmouth was doing his utmost to steal her from him.
Without thought, Jack burst through the door.
One moment, Nell had been guilt-stricken, about to confess all to Tom, and the next, the door to the drawing room was being thrown open. Jack strode over the threshold, fury etched on every harsh angle of his face.
Tom’s hand was upon her elbow, and Jack’s gaze settled upon that connection.
More guilt skewered her. But this guilt was different. It was guilt because her husband was seeing another man touch her. Her cheeks went hot, and she resisted the urge to tear herself from Tom’s grasp. How foolish