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Christina looked up in a daze to find her grandfather holding a smoking gun. She stared in open-mouthed shock.
Lord Allyn ripped his wife’s weapon from her fingers. “I may dislike George’s boys, but I won’t have them murdered, Agnes. Think of the scandal!”
At the magistrate’s urging, the Under Sheriff claimed Lady Allyn and hauled her away.
“There is your anonymous letter writer,” Manchester said to the magistrate.
“A bitter, greedy woman if ever I saw one.”
With a resigned sigh, the magistrate turned away.
Christina case last glance across the scaffolding at Drex. He stared back.
She loved him and she hated him. But she refused to be his wife, to live under the tyranny of his oppressive thumb until whatever affection she’d once held for him made her bitter.
Biting her lip to hold in her tears of resignation, she watched him. He accepted hugs from his father and Greg. Even Lord Allyn shook his hand and apologized for his wife.
Finally, he looked back at her, his glance spearing her façade of self-control. Before she gave in, before she gave him one more chance…
She gave him a chilly nod and turned away.
* * *
The following evening, Christina sat listlessly on the sofa. Her grandparents had gone out for the evening, leaving her alone with disillusionment and fury.
Both gnawed at her like acid.
They had responded with both sympathy and surprise when she’d announced her separation from Drexell. In answer to their questions why, she had replied something vague about differences and his desire to live in Louisiana.
True, a part of her still yearned for him. Yet had she not walked away from him on the scaffolding, she might have fallen for whatever rubbish he spewed next, if only to be near him again.
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He would be back, she knew. Legally, he could force her to resume her role as his wife. And she fully expected him to do just that. He would tell her and himself that it was for her own good, but it would be yet another sham to gain his way.
Christina reclined on the sofa to stare at the carved ceiling. A click of the drawing room’s door made her pause.
Drexell stood inside the room, her dim reading light polishing him with shadows. “Hello, Christina.”
“So you’ve come,” she snapped. “I will not return. I have no plans to be your wife in the—”
“I know. I hardly blame you. I wish…” he said softly, then shook his head.
“It doesn’t matter anymore. I came only to say goodbye.”
“Goodbye?” Wasn’t he going to force her back to his side? Attempt to manipulate his way back into her bed?
He shuffled his feet, scanning the carpet, before raising his gaze to her face again. “I know I can never apologize enough. Neither do I expect you to forgive me.” He shrugged. “I had endless hours to think in Newgate after you visited. I truly tried to think as you might and realized you were right. I did act as if I knew best. I didn’t trust you with the truth and tell you my identity before we married, or why I had to marry you, as I should have. I didn’t tell you I loved you on Grand Bahama or that it killed me to let you go after our journey back to England. So many regrets… I was a fool.”
“Thank you,” she said stiffly. “Now kindly go. I intend to stay here, with my grandfather, until I can establish a residence of my own. I would also appreciate it very much if you would not attend the ton’s gatherings for a time so that I may—”
“I’m leaving England with the morning tide. I have a plantation outside of New Orleans. I won’t ask you to come with me. I’m freeing you to live your life as you see fit.”
Christina gasped. Shock set in, vibrating within her aching chest. He was leaving the country? She drew in a deep breath. She wanted this, she reminded herself.
Then why did her heart feel as if he’d ripped it out?
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His sigh filled the air, low and sad. “I ask that you promise me two things, however. First, should a child result from our intimacy, tell me. I grew up without a father, and would not wish that kind of emptiness on my son or daughter.”
Put that way, denying him the chance to see his child, did she conceive, seemed petty indeed.
“I will,” she said.
He drew in a deep breath, crossed the room and reached for her hands. His warm fingers enveloped hers in a familiar caress. Despair tangled with painful yearning in her chest.
Drex cast a searing glance at her, packed with supplication and passion. “If you ever decide that you love me, even half as much as I love you, please come to me.” He dropped his gaze. “If that day never comes, then this will be our final goodbye.”
He took her face between his hands and lowered his mouth to hers. A barrage of sensations hit her as their lips met. Warmth, familiarity, musk, desperation and longing all combined to become an ache.
Before she could protest, he ended the kiss and left.
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Chapter Twenty-One
Drex rose from the blue damask meridienne when he heard the doorbell ring. He prayed this visitor was his father, due to arrive any day. He did not need another nosy neighbor eager to add to his misery with their curiosity about his or Ryan’s long absences. He groaned. Or worse, another mama, determined to parade her marriageable daughter before a real viscount, despite the fact he’d informed them repeatedly he had a wife in London.
Christina. Her name rang through his mind, her memory as sharp as the scent of fresh cut orchids on the table beside him.
God, how he had ached for her since kissing her goodbye three miserable months ago.
The morning he’d left London, he had foolishly hoped she would meet him at the Lair and accompany him back to Louisiana. She had not. His next wish had been that she would follow close behind, perhaps make him wait a few weeks to teach him a lesson. That dream had not come to fruition, either. He’d even hoped for a brief time that she would be with child and come to him for the babe’s sake. A note he received mere weeks ago crushed that hope.
He had well and truly lost her.
In his attempts to guide her to safety and free his brother, he had used and controlled her, rather than accepted her as a partner. Drex sighed, raking a stiff-fingered hand through his hair. What a dolt. Somewhere during his life in England, she had taught him about true love, which meant giving another the room to make their own choices, even if painful.
Unfortunately, he had realized that too late. The ever-present ache inside him swelled again. Could he possibly wake up one day and find that memories
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of her smile, her laughter, the shade of her crying eyes no longer haunted him?
He doubted it. Christina had imprinted herself onto his heart forever.
A servant opened the door, snapping Drex out of his reverie. His father stood in the open portal, valise in hand. The two embraced.
“Drex.” His father held him close. “I’ve missed you.”
“I missed you, too.” The two broke apart, and Drex asked, “How is Ryan adjusting to London life?”
“Well, indeed. He’s liked by the ton. Even Milton is coming to accept him.”
“And Lady Allyn?”
The earl shook his head. “After her wound healed, Milton placed her in Bedlam. The magistrate agreed it would serve her better than a term in Newgate, given her mental state.” He forced a smile. “Now what about you? You look entirely too gaunt, son. Are you not eating nor sleeping properly?”
Drex shrugged. “When I need to. I have much to do here.” And Christina keeps me from concentrating. God, I miss her. He pushed the thought aside.
“Tell me of Chantal and Rory’s arrival in London. Do they enjoy their new home?”