The Scoundrel and I - Katharine Ashe Page 0,45
draining from her face and hands.
But she had not really experienced this before. She had not been in love with Josiah Junior, only infatuated with a lying scoundrel. Which, she supposed, was the case this time too.
He had taken the woman—his betrothed—out of the shop and was speaking with her now on the street. Through the window Elle could see his face, grave and sober, even the taut muscles in his jaw.
“I told you, Gabrielle,” Charlie said as she turned from the window and went into the press room. “You mustn’t trust—”
“Then whom can I trust, Charlie?” She looked him directly in the eye. “Shall I go through life imagining every member of the male sex a vain, rapacious egoist like your brother? Shall I dampen all my wishes for companionship and affection, and fear all attachments because some wretched man might someday hurt my feelings? Is that how you would prefer that I go along? Is it?”
“No,” he said in an oddly strangled voice. “I don’t want that for you at all.”
The captain came into the doorway. “May I speak with you?” he said to her carefully, firmly, and despite all she felt her heart squeeze.
She nodded, passed him by, and left the shop. His betrothed was nowhere in sight. The carriage that he had purchased to celebrate bachelorhood was parked on the street. He gestured toward it.
She climbed up onto the seat without accepting his hand for assistance. A flat nausea was filling her. She could not look at him.
“You are betrothed,” she said as he guided the team away from Brittle & Sons.
“Technically. Not actually.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you did ask for her hand?”
“Yes.”
“You should not—you should not have . . . kissed me.” And touched her and made her feel like she was flying.
“I shouldn’t have. But not for the reason you believe.” There was certainty in his tone. She wanted him to be confused and miserable, like she was.
“She is lovely,” she said.
He did not reply; his lips were a line.
“Do you admire her?”
“Don’t particularly know her.”
“You do not know her?”
“Not really.”
“But, the children—”
His gaze snapped to her, surprisingly hard. “Not mine.” He looked forward again and his hands readjusted the reins. “Fond of them, though.”
“Is it an arranged marriage?”
“No.”
Elle folded and refolded her fingers in her lap. “She is obviously the daughter of a gentleman.” Despite the wear in her clothing. “Does she have a fortune you want?” she said skeptically.
“No.”
“She is very lovely.”
“She’s a fine looking woman.”
The sick ache in her stomach finally sealed her lips.
“I owe you an explanation,” he said. “But I can’t give it, Elle. Not—That is, not now.” His face was severe. “Matter of honor.”
“Honor?”
“Not my honor. Mine’s sailed away on an easterly, obviously.”
“I think I hate you for not telling me before,” she said.
“You should. But, by God, I wish you didn’t. Of all the people in the world—”
“Of all the people in the world you would not wish to offend, I am at the top of the list,” she said with intentional blandness. “I certainly believe that.”
“Don’t,” he said shortly. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I haven’t given you cause to believe I’m a heartless villain. I should have— Didn’t expect—” He exhaled hard. “I didn’t know.”
“You did not know that I would throw myself at you yesterday? Well, you need not flagellate yourself, Captain. I am not a society belle whose maidenly modesty must be preserved at all costs until marriage. Nor am I a foolish girl, but a woman grown who has made mistakes in the past and learned from them. This time I knew what I was doing. And I enjoyed it. Not only yesterday, but this entire fantastical interlude. It is true that I wish we had succeeded in replacing the type. But it was never your responsibility to do so, and I am actually glad for having had this diversion from my troubles for a short while. So, really, you have nothing about which to feel guilty.”
“Are you speaking sincerely?” he said tightly.
“Of course I am.” But the dull pain in her chest gave lie to that. “Where are you taking me?”
“Home.”
His home? He wouldn’t.
“Suspect you’d like the company of your grandmother about now,” he said.
She shut her eyes against a fresh surge of misery. How could a man so compassionate be a profligate flirt? It was not right. It was not fair. But life was never fair. She had known that long before she met Captain Anthony Masinter.
“Why