When a Rogue Meets His Match - Elizabeth Hoyt Page 0,108
and his. “At first. But not anymore.”
She turned to the door. “I’ll have to wake Lucretia.”
“Please,” Gideon said, and was astonished. He’d never begged in his life. Not to the duke. Not to the men he’d lost knife fights to.
Not to anyone.
He’d beg Messalina, though, if it would but make her look at him for a second.
A fraction of a second. “Please listen.”
She paused at the door, her back to him. “What can you possibly say to me?”
Panic rose in Gideon’s breast. This couldn’t be happening. “Goddamn it, Messalina, I didn’t even know what the task was before I married you. I’m telling the truth. Please. You have to believe me.”
“But I can’t,” she said, finally, finally turning to him. He saw to his horror that there were tears in her eyes. “You deceived me before for your own gain. I won’t let you do it again. I wish that I could believe that you care enough for me to refuse to kill my brother. But I can’t.” She drew a shuddering breath. “I simply can’t.”
He felt as if his chest were cracking open. As if everything inside and all that he was—his hopes, his dreams, his very purpose in life—was leaking out.
As if he were dying.
And the truth burst from his bleeding chest. “I love you.”
Even as he said it, he knew it was too late.
She laughed—a terrible cawing sound. “No. No. No. That won’t work. No more manipulation.” She swiped across her eyes with a shaking hand. “I think I love you, Gideon. But that’s not enough. Not anymore.” She raised her head and looked him in the eye. “Goodbye.”
He watched dumbly as she walked out.
Leaving him alone.
Chapter Nineteen
Autumn came, and one day the fox returned home with a torn ear and a fine blue dress and gave it to Bet.
She pulled on the dress and it fit perfectly. “Why have you given me this?”
“To remember me by,” the fox said mockingly.…
—From Bet and the Fox
Messalina couldn’t leave that night, of course.
If nothing else, she needed a carriage.
It was morning, well past sunrise, when she stepped out of Whispers House for the last time with Lucretia by her side.
“Oof.” Lucretia was carrying the enormous wicker basket Hicks had made for them. The cook had told them that it contained Lucretia’s favorite cakes.
Which was probably why her sister refused to let anyone else carry the thing.
Reggie stood by her carriage—borrowed from Freya and Kester—his large frame shuffling awkwardly from foot to foot. He called as they neared, “At least let Pea go with you, ma’am. ’E’s small but ’e’s a terror when ’e wants.” He glanced up at Whispers. “The guv is that worried.”
Lucretia widened her eyes in mute appeal to Messalina.
Messalina shook her head. She wanted nothing to do with her husband. “I’m sorry, Reggie, but I’ve the Duke of Harlowe’s men to protect us. I think that’s quite enough. Besides”—she tried to smile and didn’t quite make it—“We aren’t going far.”
The last was a flat-out lie. She intended to flee to Kester’s country home to lick her wounds. After that she’d make her plans with Lucretia.
As dismal a prospect as that was.
Perhaps she could ask Kester for monetary help, for she hadn’t even gotten her portion of her dowry from Gideon, fool that she was. He seemed to be avoiding her this morning, and that hurt more than anything else.
“I think I’ll miss this place,” Lucretia murmured, glancing back at Whispers. She sighed and let a footman help her into the carriage.
Messalina nodded to Reggie and turned to step into the carriage.
“Ma’am!”
She looked back.
Sam was running to her, Daisy clutched in his arms. “You forgot Daisy, ma’am!”
She’d had such lofty plans to help Sam and boys like him. Now that was gone. Everything was gone.
Sam stood before her now, his eyes wide and pleading, and held out a limp Daisy. “Take ’im or ’e’ll be that ’urt. ’E’ll think you don’t like ’im.”
Her eyes blurred. “I like both Daisy and you, Sam, but I don’t know if he’d want a carriage ride. Can you”—she wiped at her eyes—“can you take care of him, please?”
Both puppy and boy stared at her bewildered. “Yes, ma’am. If you like.” Sam’s bottom lip trembled. “You’re really going away?”
“I’m afraid so.”
She entered the carriage before she started bawling in the street. How had she come to care for Gideon’s men and boys? How had she let herself love him?
The carriage jolted, and she looked out the window as the carriage rolled forward.