Fear had already sunk its talons into her heart. So, too, had doubt. Yesterday, he had been the one with doubts. Today, it was her turn.
She wanted to believe him. But part of her said she would be a fool if she did.
“Yesterday, I took tea with my friend, and when I returned, you all but accused me of plotting an affair with Dunlop,” she reminded him.
“Forgive me, Callie.” He raked his long, elegant fingers—those fingers that knew every inch of her skin so well—through his hair. “There is no excuse for my behavior, save that I am hopelessly flawed. I am trying to be better, for you.”
Another swift rush of outrage surged over her.
She gestured toward him, encompassing his disheveled state. “This does not look like trying, Sin. This looks like surrendering.”
“I should have come home to you last night,” he said on a sigh. “Forgive me, please.”
She was not ready to forgive him with such ease. “Why did you go? Why get yourself so thoroughly inebriated that you could not return home until the next afternoon? Imagine how you would feel, had I been gone all night without word.”
“I am an arse.” He reached for her again, capturing her hand and tangling their fingers together. “And I am sorry.”
How easy it would be to fall into his arms, into his bed. But that was what she had been doing for the last month, and look where it had landed her: she had fallen in love with a man she scarcely knew. She was carrying his child in her womb. And on the day she made the discovery, he had run off to drown himself in drink.
Benny’s words of warning returned to her, then, and the doubts she had been entertaining yesterday, all last night, and every minute of his absence, blossomed.
You scarcely even know him.
He is the last sort of man I would ever wish to see married to my beloved sister.
I wonder what else your new husband is keeping from you.
She withdrew her hand from Sin’s grasp. “I am going to pay a call to my brother and sister-in-law at Westmorland House. I do not like the manner in which we left things yesterday.”
“Of course.” He clenched his jaw, studying her. “Allow me to dress, and I will accompany you.”
“No.” She could not give in to him. Not now. She needed time to sort out her feelings. To make sense of this wretched muddle. “I will go alone.”
“Alone?” he asked, his voice grim.
“Yes. Alone.”
He inclined his head. “As you wish, Callie.”
It was not what she wished, but Callie did not bother to say it. Instead, she walked away.
“Her Grace, the Duchess of Longleigh,” Dunlop announced.
Sin scowled at the butler-in-training. From bad to worse, it would seem. His head was still aching, his mouth felt as if it had been stuffed with cotton, and no amount of tea he had consumed since his ignominious return a few hours ago could cure what ailed him.
Mostly, he was filled with self-loathing.
And now, Tilly was here.
Tempting though it was, he knew he could not send her away. If she had sought him out, there was every possibility she was in need of aid. Moreover, she had been gracious to him, agreeing to meet with Callie, when the risk to her had not been worth the reward.
“See her in,” he relented even as he knew Tilly paying him a call was the last complication he needed to add to this carriage wreck of a day.
He stood when Tilly entered, offering her a bow.
She was beautiful as ever, the drapery of her gown cleverly constructed to hide her pregnancy. Her mien was grave. She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
“Thank you for seeing me, Sin,” she said softly.
“Of course,” he told her easily. “For you, I always have time. What is the matter, my dear? Is it Longleigh?”
Her smile fled. “Is it not always Longleigh?”
Sin cursed. “You never should have married that bastard.”
But he did not follow the statement he had oft made to her over the years with the additional accompanying sentence. You should have married me.
Because he no longer felt that way. When he had been consumed by misery with Celeste, marriage to Tilly had certainly seemed the better option. Her husband was a detestable, heartless bastard and Sin’s wife had been a faithless, vindictive wretch. Now, however, Sin had found something deeper and far more meaningful with Callie.