Page 70 of The Earl and the Reluctant Lady
“You could make an exception for me.” Again, her hand trailed down the front of his shirt. Her fingers stopped right at the fastening for his trousers. “Don’t you remember how good it was with us? God, Fletcher you used to drive me mad with lust and pleasure.”
“That is your husband’s duty now, not mine.” Fletcher allowed the irritation to flood his tone.
“My husband couldn’t bring me pleasure if the alternative was a beheading.” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “I’ve resorted to having to do things myself.” She eyed him as if waiting for his response, but he said nothing. “I heard recently that you were engaged. I told them it wasn’t true. That Lord Wakefield would never be trapped by the bounds of matrimony.”
His jaw clenched. “It is very much true.”
She sucked in a breath. “We can make this work for us, my love. Once you are married, we shall have an affair. It will be perfect.” She pressed herself against him, her full breasts mashed into his chest. Then she pulled his face down to hers and kissed him.
It took him a moment to realize what was happening before he gathered his wits and pushed her away. “No, Celeste!”
Her eyes widened. “I don’t understand.”
“Evidently not. I said no. I will not sleep with you again. You are married. I do not have affairs with married women.” He forked his fingers through his hair. “Furthermore, I am to be married and I happen to be insanely in love with the woman I’m marrying. I have no desire for any woman but her.”
…
Agnes wanted to claw her own eyes out. It had only been two days since she’d broken their engagement and he’d not wasted a moment of it finding a lover. An old lover, as it were. She’d seen them together before and he’d assured her there was nothing more between them. But seeing their bodies pressed together in a heated embrace told a different story. The true story.
She quickly made her way over to her friends, knowing the tears had already begun to fall. Damn Fletcher and his unfaithful heart. No, he wasn’t being unfaithful. He didn’t belong to her. She’d set him free. Still, that didn’t make it feel any less of a betrayal.
Matilda caught her by the arm as she slid up to them. “Agnes, what is the matter?”
She shook her head. “I just saw Fletcher kissing another woman. It’s nothing. I am being foolish. I broke things off with him, he owes me no loyalty.”
Matilda frowned. “Are you certain it was him?”
“Yes. And I’m certain it was a redhead attached to him by the lips.” She sucked in a breath. “I have to go.”
“Let us come with you,” Justine said.
“No, you stay and enjoy the rest of your evening.” She didn’t let them, she just maneuvered herself into the crowd until they were out of sight. She continued weaving her way through the throng of people until she finally could see the doors leading outside. It was still raining; she could see the drops hitting against the windows and a flash of lightning lit up the sky.
She’d likely get wet on her way to the carriage, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she’d been right all along. Love didn’t exist. If it did then she wouldn’t be feeling as terrible as she was right now, as if the sun would never shine again.
Firm hands gripped her before she ran out into the rainstorm. “Miss Watkins, are you injured?”
Agnes looked up into the kind face of Lord Barrow’s son, Michael. “What?” she asked, confused by his question.
“You’re crying.” He wiped a tear from her cheek with one thumb. “Are you hurt somewhere?”
She shook her head. “I just want to go home.”
He nodded and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Come, I shall see you safely home.”
He’d always been kind to her, though he was rather shy. His face was so handsome, his features bordered on pretty. He assisted her up into the carriage and climbed in behind her. Her reputation hardly mattered anymore since ending her engagement to Fletcher would likely ruin her.
Michael’s pale-blue eyes lit on her face and his full lips lifted in a sweet smile. “Would you care to talk about it?”
“Not particularly.”
He nodded. They rode in silence for a few moments before he spoke again. “You will learn to trust me eventually, Agnes. Speaking to me will be as natural as breathing. For now, we can enjoy the silence.”
His words made no sense. “I beg your pardon?”
“I know that bastard, Wakefield, probably hurt you. He likely stole your virtue, too, but none of that matters to me. All that matters is that we belong together. You’ll see it, too. Eventually.”
Her mouth went dry and her heart slammed into her ribs. Oh God, oh God, oh God. “It’s you.”
His brows rose. “Yes, it is me. I knew once I had your mother that she was nothing but a poor substitute for you. I want the best and I shall have it.”
“The flowers, the letters…”
“Did you like them?”
He was completely delusional. That was when Agnes realized she’d made a grave decision by getting into the carriage with this seemingly harmless, kind man. And no one knew where she was or who she was with.
