your mind? Christopher was there. He had motivation. Someone shot that gun & frightened your father’s horse, causing the head injury.”
What was her game? “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Her lips tightened in displeasure. “Of course. I didn’t mean anything by it, I merely hate to see you blame yourself.”
But I didn’t blame myself. If she knew that I was actually disappointed my father hadn’t died, would she still marry me? Probably. She was that greedy for a husband with a title. I strolled toward the area in front of the fireplace where I’d taken Ginny’s innocence that night nine months ago. How could that moment be so fresh in my mind even still?
I wasn’t supposed to care about her. Wasn’t supposed to want her so badly that it kept me hard and throbbing at night. Damnation, I’d rejected her, thrown her to the side. And I’d done it for her own good, and for mine.
Miranda pulled a book from the shelf, smoothed her hand over the leather cover. To her, books were decoration. To Ginny, they had been knowledge, an undiscovered world.
“You know I’ll support you no matter what. I told your mother even last Tuesday when she visited.”
I narrowed my eyes. “The day she sent out the announcement for our wedding?”
Her eyes went wide. She even rested her hand on her heart in mock surprise. “Was it?”
My irritation flared. I crossed my arms over my chest. “You knew what she had planned.”
She shrugged, looking sheepish. “She said you wanted this.” She stepped closer, her lower lip quivering. “You do, don’t you?”
She was good. I wasn’t falling for it. Like most debutantes, she’d been taught the act of flirting from an early age. She knew what to say, what not to say, how to lower her lashes just so, tilt her head just right, give that small quirk of her lips. She was coy.
Ginny, on the other hand, had been bold. Daring. Demanding.
Did I want to marry Miranda? No. I didn’t want to marry some viper out for my title. No, I didn’t want to marry someone who would consistently lie, and try to manipulate me. “And how do I know if the child you birth is mine?”
She gasped. I caught her wrist before her palm connected with my cheek.
“Spare me your theatrics. We both know you’re no innocent.”
“And you are?” she hissed.
“You mistook my question for anger. I don’t bloody care who you’ve slept with.”
She seemed slightly mollified.
“I do, however, want a faithful wife.”
“I swear to you that it will be yours.”
I frowned. Did I trust her?
She smiled and slid her arm through mine, pressing her petite body against me. “Well then…no harm done.”
No harm done.
They’d chosen my life for me. I’d had no say. It had been this way since the day I’d been born. I thought I’d gained some sort of meager control since becoming the heir apparent, but perhaps not.
No harm done.
Why did I not break things off with Miranda?
Because who, then, would I marry? Someone sweet, innocent? Someone I could manipulate, destroy? I couldn’t do that. I, at least, had some conscience. And so I should marry someone like Miranda. Someone who could take the coldness, who would thrive under lies and manipulation. Someone who didn’t need love and affection. Someone who wouldn’t judge me for what I’d done to get here. Hell, I was punishing myself by marrying her.
“Let’s move,” I said. “Leave London and head to Italy. Open a vineyard.”
“You’re insane.”
“I’m serious.”
“Why would I ever leave?” she said, growing annoyed. “You’re being ridiculous.”
Because…because I didn’t belong here. “Never mind.”
Numb, I led her out the door and back toward the ballroom. She talked the entire way, her mundane chatter a high-pitched irritating buzz. I caught bits and pieces about weddings and dresses and guests, but I didn’t need to respond. She cared what I had to say as much as I cared about her limited thinking.
And that, I supposed, was why our marriage might actually work. Neither of us gave a shite.
What an odd way to look at a union.
Ginny would laugh over the absurdity. She would mock the ton. She’d tell me I was utterly mad. And she would be right.
I had spent so little time with the woman. I didn’t truly know Ginny. She didn’t truly know me. So why was I still obsessed? Because somehow, in some way, she’d clawed her way into my life, my body, what little soul I had left.
“Chambers, there you are!” Landcaster called out, with a wink that