Lady Guinevere and the Rogue with a Brogue - Julie Johnstone Page 0,97
her power over him, but he was ready to accept that.
Guinevere followed the butler to the parlor where Lady Constantine was, and when he opened the door and announced her, she almost turned and fled. She didn’t want to know the truth, but she had to know. Not knowing would be worse, wouldn’t it? She could hardly think straight, and driving around the Ladies’ Mile for hours had not ordered her thoughts or calmed her racing heart as she had hoped.
The moment the door behind her shut, leaving her alone with Lady Constantine, Guinevere’s reservoir of patience burst before the woman could even properly greet her. She abandoned every rule of etiquette that had been hammered into her since birth and blurted, “Did Carrington ask you to wed him?”
Lady Constantine fell back on the settee with an oof, as if she had been shoved back by the truth. Her lips parted, and she looked toward her lap.
Guinevere sucked in a sharp breath as her heart ripped in half. The woman’s face was truly all the confirmation she needed, but she would hear the words. She couldn’t say why she needed to hear it. Perhaps it was simply because she could not believe, did not want to believe, that Asher had wed her for his inheritance, and yet, she would be an utter fool if she continued to deny it. The hysterical thought made her want to fall to the ground and cry, or maybe rage, but she pressed her lips firmly together until she was certain she would do neither.
Her face grew hot with her humiliation, and she was helpless to stop it, but she would not flee, not yet. She cleared her throat, and Lady Constantine slowly looked up.
“Will you sit?” the lady asked.
Guinevere shook her head. “I’d rather stand, if you don’t mind.”
“No. No, of course not. I… I’m unsure I should be speaking with you about this. I—Where is Carrington?”
“I currently cannot say,” Guinevere replied, her anger simmering. “I saved you, Lady Constantine, so I do believe you are indebted to me, but more than that, we are—you and I both—women trapped in a world that is wholly unfair to women. I feel certain you would wish to know if your husband had failed to mention that he had asked another woman to wed him before asking you.”
“Yes,” the woman agreed. “Yes, I would.” She studied Guinevere for a long silent moment. “You love him,” Lady Constantine said with a small smile.
It was true, but in the current situation, Guinevere wholeheartedly was wishing it were not. “That is of no import at the moment.” She felt the edges of her control fraying at an alarming pace. She could imagine giving Lady Constantine a tooth-rattling shake if the woman did not answer her quite soon. “Did he ask you to wed him?”
“You really should sit for this conversation,” the woman said, arching her eyebrows in a show of surprising steel.
“Does your answering hinge upon my sitting?”
“I’m afraid it does.”
Guinevere strode to the nearest seat, which happened to be a settee facing Lady Constantine, and sat. “Well?” she demanded. “You may explain now.”
Lady Constantine cleared her throat. “He did ask me to wed him, but it was hardly a proposal of love.”
Guinevere had a sudden wish for the settee to swallow her into its plush blue cushions. “I could say the same about his proposal to me,” she muttered.
“I think not, Your Grace,” Lady Constantine said. “He offered me a marriage of convenience.”
That did not make her feel better. Lady Constantine’s revelation only served to reinforce what Talbot had told her.
“He offered for you, and you turned him down, Lady Constantine, so he came after me.” Guinevere didn’t care that she was relaying personal information. She didn’t care that it flew in the face of all the rules. She didn’t care about anything. Her heart hurt too much.
Her anguish peaked to shatter the last bits of her control. She rose on shaky legs as grief overwhelmed her. “He had to wed,” she bit out. When Lady Constantine did not deny it, Guinevere stilled, her grief mingling with burning anger. “You knew. You knew, and that’s why you jumped at the opportunity to aid him in being alone with me that night after supper.”
Lady Constantine reached toward her, but Guinevere jerked backward. She didn’t blame the lady, but she did not want a comforting hand.
“I, well… Yes, he did admit he was compelled to wed, but—”