Page 93 of Project Duke

He didn’t trust her.

What a complete and utter idiot she was. She had fallen in love with a man who thought her a lunatic.

Perhaps he hadn’t called her a whore as William King had. But the very same feeling of shame and embarrassment crept through her body, prickly heat making her want to crawl out of her own skin and disappear, dissolve, hide.

Because he made it worse. He’d made her feel ashamed of her own dream. Of her passion.

Lunacy…

“You could have died,” he kept going, “and our child.”

“We don’t know that there is a child yet,” she said.

“Perhaps not yet. But you’re my wife. We still have an entire life in front of us, Calliope. And I’ve never envisioned my role as a husband to be a jailor.”

“And I have never envisioned myself being locked away in a country estate,” she snapped. “If I wanted that, I’d have accepted William King.”

She spat the name like it was a curse. Nathaniel’s eyes darkened even more at the mere mention, his jaw muscles working.

“How low have I fallen if you compare me to him?” he spat.

Calliope shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger. “This is pointless. You’ll never support me,” she said. “If you think my dream is lunacy… You’re never going to stop trying to control me, are you?”

He closed his eyes, jaw tightening.

“That is what I am with you,” he said as he met her gaze again, his voice broken. “A tyrant. I don’t want to be this man.”

Silence fell between them as they looked at each other, not moving, not breathing. Something had just broken between them; something had reached the point of no return.

“We have been unfit for each other from the start, have we not?” she asked, tears prickling her eyes.

He didn’t reply, didn’t contradict her.

She straightened her shoulders.

This was the end. It was her own fault, really. She should have never fallen for him.

She’d always thought herself a smart woman. How could she have been so stupid to open up to him and fall in love with him?

How could she hope for happiness with this man, for the same wonderful marriage her mama and papa had?

“Now you and I have completed our deal,” she said coldly, her heart dying in her chest. “I know where Spencer is. And most likely, you have your heir. If you feel I’m a lunatic and I can’t give you the compliance you expect from your wife, there is no more reason for us to torture ourselves and be together.”

He blinked; his jaw worked but he didn’t say anything. Then he nodded. His chest barely moved as though he had a hard time getting any air into his lungs.

“Where do we go from here, Calliope?” he asked, his voice quiet, his body rigid.

“We cannot divorce,” she said. “So we must remain husband and wife. I will carry your child. I will not start my agency until the child is born. As we agreed in the beginning, once the baby is here, you will get your fortune. And I will get my freedom.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. Then nodded again.

“I will return to Sumhall and live there,” Calliope said. “I think it’s best we don’t see much of each other.”

It killed her to say it, the pain tearing apart her insides.

“No,” he said, and a small jolt of hope sparked joy in her blood. “The girls love you and would be heartbroken if you left. More so than if I left. Violet needs you especially. They have missed a female presence their whole lives. And they’re used to me being away for days. It is I who will find an alternate accommodation.”

It felt like the floor careened and slipped from under her feet. Needles pricked at her skin. Her heart was just a tiny reticule of broken glass.