The Clarendon Rose (32 page)

“I believe I asked you first,” he said with a tired grin.

“Oh, don’t let’s do that.
 
I can’t discuss what’s happened with me right now, so you tell me what’s got you blue-deviled and maybe that will help loosen my own tongue.”

He watched her for a few moments, his expression speculative.
 
Then, he nodded.
 
“All right, I suppose.”
 
He looked down and kicked at the grass idly.

Tina waited.
 
When he glanced up at her again, she was taken aback by the look of dull resignation in his expression.

“I’m in love with her,” he said.
 
“I realized it last night.
 
I was thinking about leaving for India—about leaving her…” he pursed his lips and shrugged.
 
“And I knew.”

“Oh God, Edmund.”
 
Tears she had fought to suppress on her own behalf finally spilled over as she saw the pain in his face.

He touched her arm.
 
“Don’t cry, Tina,” he said.
 
“I’m in love with her, but that’s all.
 
I won’t die from it.
 
We’ll go our separate ways and life will go on.”

“Will you tell her?”

He swallowed.
 
“Your turn, Tina.
 
What’s happened?”

A long, quavery sigh.
 
“I just found out Clarendon’s set up a London establishment for his mistress, that’s all.”

“That’s all, is it?”
 
He let out a bark of laughter and she looked up at him sharply.
 
He was shaking his head.
 
“I’m in love with a woman who thinks I’m a safe target for her flirtations—because after all, I’ll be leaving the country in a few weeks, won’t I—and you’ve just learned the man you love has a mistress.
 
That’s all.
 
We make a fine pair indeed.”

She gave a watery chuckle, somehow consoled by their shared misery.
 
“Yes, I suppose we do,” she agreed.

They walked towards one of the benches, where they sat down side by side.

“So
will
you propose?”

“Ah, Tina it’s no use.
 
She thinks of me as a dear old fellow—not as a possible suitor,” he said.

“Well then, it’s her loss,” she began, but his self-mocking laugh cut her off.

“Yes, that’s always an excellent consolation,” he said dryly and she had to laugh, too.
 
“Remind me never to use that one again, Tina love.”

“It is rather cold comfort, isn’t it?”

“I hadn’t realized how cold until now.
 
I could have done without the discovery, quite frankly.”

“Indeed, I think we all could,” Tina sighed.
 
“But really, if she doesn’t recognize all you have to give her…”

“Tina, I have nothing to give her.
 
I suppose if I accepted some of that extra money Clarendon keeps wanting to shove at me, then I’d be a little more viable, but I’d rather get by on my own means, meager though they might be.
 
I’m going to
India
.
 
Away from everything she knows and loves.
 
For a beautiful, vibrant young woman looking forward to a London Season…”

Tina sighed, seeing his point all too clearly, but not wanting to agree with him that the prospects were hopeless.
 
It just didn’t seem right, somehow.
 
But then again, few things in this world are.
 

They sat in silence for a few moments.
 
“So what’s this about Clarendon having a mistress?
 
How did you find out?
 
Surely he didn’t tell you?”

She shook her head.
 
“Of course not.
 
But I just know, that’s all.”

He frowned down at her.
 
“Perhaps you should ask him about it, Tina, before jumping to conclusions.”

At thought of confronting him, the rage rushed in to fill the gap left by her fading shock.
 
Though she had worried about his infidelity, until she saw the bank statement, she hadn’t really wanted to believe it was true.
 

But why else would a man like Clarendon—who had, by his own confession, spent the last eleven years of his life in worthless debauchery—need such a large sum of money, if not to continue his previous pursuits?

Don’t put yourself in the power of a man, Tina.
 
Never allow yourself to be seduced by reckless eyes and dark passion.

Her mother’s words taunted her, as something heavy and bitter pressed against her chest, restricting her breathing.
 
Tina swallowed back a hard lump of anger and self-loathing.
 
She had done it—made the same mistakes her mother had made, despite everything.
 
And now, she would have to live with the consequences.

“There’s really no question about it, Edmund,” she said, her voice hard.
 
“We both know he’s a rake and a degenerate.
 
Of course he’s set up an establishment.
 
Of course he’s using his rightful fortune, earned thanks to the hard work of the tenants, to pursue his wild debauches and orgies.
 
He’s gotten bored, you see.
 
Life in the country isn’t quite up to scratch for someone of his jaded tastes, now is it?”
 
Her face had begun to dissolve as she spoke, her mouth twisting, despite her best efforts to stay in control.
 
“I should never have married him.
 
Mother always warned me about giving up my independence to some black-hearted bastard and by God, she was right.”

“Tina, you’re upset.
 
He’s changed, and you know it.”
 

“No, no, no.
 
Don’t you defend him to me, Edmund.
 
Don’t you dare defend him to me.”
 
She hated the way her voice had started to sound heavy, the way her vision had started to blur, when all she wanted to feel was complete indifference.
 
Who gave a double damn what Clarendon did with his money anyway?

“Someone bloody well has to, because you’re not thinking straight.”

“What else could it be?” she asked, the last word breaking on a sob.

He handed her a handkerchief, and she wept into the clean linen.
 
“I don’t know, my sweet, but you should ask him,” he murmured as he squeezed her shoulder.

She sniffled, then used his handkerchief to wipe her eyes and blow her nose.

“Better now?”

“Somewhat, I suppose.”
 
She gave a shaky sigh.
 
“The pain’s still there, but it doesn’t feel like the world is about to shatter into little pieces anymore.
 
I’ll talk to him.”

“Good.”

“Ah Edmund,” she sighed.
 
“I really am going to miss you, you know.”
 
She glanced at him.
 
“There’s only one way that I will be even remotely consoled by your departure, in fact.”

“How’s that?”
 

“Ask Georgiana Fielding to marry you.”

Clarendon slammed the library door closed behind him, still lost in fury and pain as he began pacing the room.
 
By God, but he wanted to put his fist through something.

He had gotten Tina’s message upon rising and realized that the thought of a solitary ride—when he had now grown accustomed to the stimulation of her company on their morning excursions—didn’t appeal.
 
But, he figured a walk would be just the thing.
 

He had ended up at the old oak and lingered for a visit, before deciding to cut through the topiary garden on his way to the study.

The voices had caught his attention but the distance rendered the words indistinct.
 
He had walked in their direction with the intention of calling out, when Tina’s precise assassination of his character had reached him, momentarily freezing him with shock.
 
He supposed he should be glad of his brother’s defense, but instead, all he had felt was piercing agony, as he turned on his heel and stalked off.

Despite everything—all his efforts to make amends for his past, and to prove that he had changed, she still believed the worst of him.
 
She had seen the bank balances and, without giving him any opportunity to defend himself, had jumped to the most damning conclusion possible.
 

Her avowal of trust had obviously been nothing more than an empty claim—paper-thin, easily undermined by the first bit of flimsy evidence to come along.
 
And where did that leave him?
 
Grappling with the fact that the woman he loved neither trusted nor, it would seem, particularly liked him.
 
That she thought him sunk beyond reproach, despite the fact that he had been doing all he could to make amends for his past idiocy.

“Bloody everlasting hell.”
 
As the realization of where his thoughts had led him sank in, he found he needed to lean against the fireplace for support.
 
He stared hollowly at the French windows as the bitter taste of bile crawled up the back of his throat.

He loved her.
 
He must—or this simply wouldn’t hurt as much as it did.
 
Once again, Clarendon, your timing is impeccable.
 
You fool.

His gaze was caught by a movement outside.
 
Tina, walking towards the study doors—she would enter at any moment.
 
His eyes narrowed.
 
So she was determined to think badly of him, was she?
 
He gave a humorless smile.
 

So be it.
 
Obviously his best efforts simply weren’t good enough for her—she still longed for her freedom, while clinging to the notion that he was an irresponsible, philandering cad who was only playing at responsibility until he got bored.

With an aching heart and a throbbing anger, he watched her open the doors, enter, close them behind her.
 
She turned and froze, a dark silhouette against the window.

“Clarendon.”
 
Her voice was flat.

“Tina.”

“We have some things to talk about.”

“Is that so, madam?”

She seemed to hesitate.
 
He took the opportunity to resume his pacing.
 

“It’s about those statements you brought back with you,” she began.

He gave a short laugh.
 
“I really should have known it would be something like this.
 
If there’s one thing that’s sure to arouse your ire, it’s any threat to your precious estate’s security.
 
That’s really why you married me, isn’t it?”

Tina swallowed against the combination of hurt and anger that spread through her chest.
 
He didn’t really expect an answer to that, did he?
 
She shook her head impatiently, but couldn’t prevent herself from glaring at him as she continued, “I noticed that there was a large withdrawal, dated from the time of your visit in London, and I wondered…” she trailed off, unnerved by his predatory intensity and unsure how to continue.
 

“Wondered?”
 
He frowned, pausing to impale her with a cold stare.
 
“Are you asking me to give you an accounting of how I choose to administer my money?”
 
He resumed his slow pacing.

She flushed at the question, knowing that by law and custom, she didn’t actually have any right to ask, but stung to anger by his tone.
 
The audacity of the man!
 

“All right, Clarendon.
 
I understand that you might have required a large sum this time in order to set up a mistress in proper style.
 
Fine.
 
But I’ll put it this way: the estates, profitable as they are, will not be able to sustain frequent debauches if they continue to be on such a scale.
 
You must surely be able to see that yourself—“

“Silence!” he roared, and she looked up, eyes wide.
 
He had come to a stop in front of her, his expression livid, his eyes burning with fury.
 
She gritted her teeth.
 
I suppose I’ll have to try to placate him if I am to have any hope of a reasonable outcome.
 
Then at least I might be able to salvage
something
out of this debacle—if only for the estates—before I crawl off and lick my wounds.
 

“I understand that it’s your money, of course.
 
I thought perhaps if we agreed on a fixed sum that the estate could handle without being unduly taxed, then—“

“Enough.”
 
He watched her with narrowed eyes.
 
“It really
is
why you married me, isn’t it?
 
So you could ensure the prodigal son didn’t run the holdings into penury.”
 

It was all Tina could do to prevent herself from shuddering at the contempt in his expression.

She stood, chin raised, anger pulsing through her veins as she glared at him.
 
“I was under the impression that was a foregone conclusion, Clarendon,” she said, enunciating very clearly.
 
“Mutually understood and agreed upon.”

He stepped back, nostrils flaring.
 
“Don’t push me, Tina.”

“Push you?
 
You come here and present me with evidence of the outrageous sums you’re spending on your women and who knows what other debauches, and then warn
me
against pushing
you
?”

He drew himself up, his mouth a supercilious line.
 
“Seeing as I could only get in the way of your highly efficient administration of my holdings, I shall be returning to London this afternoon.”