Scandal Meets Its Match (The May Flowers #7) - Merry Farmer Page 0,53

wanted to marry Lenore, almost from the moment he met her, if he were being honest with himself. How many times had he lain awake at night contemplating how perfect her cleverness and boldness were? How many times had he tossed himself off while imagining how delightfully wicked she was? As it turned out, all of the things he admired most about her had their dark sides.

He stood and leaned over to kiss his sisters’ foreheads. “Go to sleep and dream of fairies and chocolates,” he told them.

“Can I dream of baseball?” Amaryllis asked as Phin took a step back.

His chest seized up all over again. Lenore could have been such a beautiful part of his family’s life, not just his life. She could have brought them the sort of joy they’d been lacking for too long. It felt as though someone had died.

“Dream of whatever you’d like,” he said before blowing out the lantern on the bedside table and leaving the room.

He took a moment just to breathe when he stepped out into the hall, before heading back down to the kitchen. No good would come of letting his passions have free reign. He was hurt, but he owed it to Lenore to let her explain.

She was seated at the table, staring at her important documents as she put them back into their box. Hazel busied herself at the stove, making tea, by the look of things. As soon as Phin entered the kitchen, Lenore glanced up at him, looking utterly miserable. Her eyes were rimmed with red, as though she’d been crying.

“You lied to me,” Phin said, opening the conversation that needed to happen the way a physician cut open a body to begin an operation, though he kept his tone calm as he spoke.

“Not on purpose,” Lenore said, rising from her chair so fast she nearly tipped it backward. “I knew I would have to confess eventually, but—”

“Eventually?” Anger got the better of Phin, and he marched across the room to stand close enough to tower over Lenore. Hazel glanced warningly over her shoulder at him, but he ignored her. “When was eventually in your mind? When we were standing at the altar? Or did you intend to be a bigamist?”

“No, no, I wouldn’t have let it go that far.” Lenore edged away from him, wringing her hands as she began pacing the room. She took several deep breaths, each one seeming to build courage within her. At last, she said, “I want to assure you right now that marrying Bart was an act of self-preservation. I did not, nor could I ever in a thousand years, love the man. And the marriage was never consummated, for your information.”

Those new facts hit Phin like drops of water hitting a hot pan. They sizzled and burned, but they didn’t cool his anger at all. “I do not take kindly to being played for a fool,” he growled.

“I never played you for a fool,” Lenore insisted, her strength nearly back to full force. “Though, while we’re on the subject, it seems awfully rich for a man who makes his living publishing erotic stories that are thinly-veiled references to real men and women of the aristocracy to complain about being played for a fool.”

In spite of everything, her sudden return to boldness as she whipped to face him, crossing her arms and glaring at him, shot pure desire straight through Phin. Dammit, but he loved her even now, knowing how false she was. She understood him, even his flaws.

“Those men and women of the aristocracy set themselves up for mockery by their ridiculous behavior,” he defended himself, his face heating as his conscience kicked him.

“Like Lady Agnes Hamilton?” Lenore arched one eyebrow at him. “Like our friend, Lady Phoebe? Their behavior is so ridiculous that they deserve to be mocked in your prose?”

“I never mock anyone,” Phin argued. “If you cared to actually read my stories, the heroines come off quite well.”

Lenore laughed sharply, and he flushed hotter.

“What I mean is that the female characters in my stories are always powerful seductresses, not hapless victims, as some writers show them,” he went on, feeling as though the entire conversation were spinning out of his control at an alarming speed. “But we’ve strayed away from the point. You lied about who you are.” He took a step toward her.

Instead of retreating, Lenore held her ground. “When did I ever lie?” she asked, tilting her chin up. “When did I ever claim