Anna shook her head. "If you're telling me Lord Danesfield saved your life, then after what I've witnessed I am not surprised." She gave an indifferent shrug. "But I don't understand why you're telling me?"
"I owe Dane and his associate, Dudley Spencer, a debt. They assisted me when it mattered most, and I am duty bound to do the same." He brushed his hands through his hair as he began pacing the floor as a way to stop his racing heart from shooting up to his throat. "I just want you to understand the implications of such a debt."
"Why do I get the sense you're preparing me for something? What is it you wish to tell me?" she asked, and he did not need to look at her to know her eyes were wide or to know fear had replaced the look of wonder he'd seen just a few moments earlier.
"Dudley wrote to me. He wants to know where he can find Miss Beaufort." He almost gasped with relief when he'd finally spoken the words. "You must know, my only thought was to protect you. When you told me you'd spoken to Victor's accomplice, I feared the worst."
When he found the courage to look into her enchanting blue eyes, he could see pain; he could see sorrow.
"What have you done, Marcus?" He heard a trace of disdain in her voice.
He took a deep breath. "I told Dudley I would exchange information. I would reveal what I know of Miss Beaufort's whereabouts. In return, he will discover all he can of Victor's accomplice."
She shook her head and laughed. "But it is of no consequence as you do not know where Miss Beaufort is. And I would never break a trust in a bid to save myself. Surely, after what has passed between us, you must know that of me."
"God damn it, Anna. I know where Miss Beaufort is." Shame and guilt fuelled his anger now. "One does not have to be skilled in the art of manipulation. It is a simple case of piecing together the facts."
Her mouth fell open, and she stepped away from him, her hand coming up to cover her heart. "But I haven't said a thing about Miss Beaufort. You couldn't possibly know—"
"I told Dudley to search the village of Marlow near High Wycombe. I told him to look for a cottage next to the church."
Marcus had experienced pain many times in his life: physical pain in the form of severe beatings. Indeed, he still bore the scars on his back. Emotional pain in the form of losing the only person who had ever mattered to him. But he had never experienced anything like the torturous feeling when witnessing the look of disappointment on Anna's face.
"You … you told him about Marlow, even though you knew my feelings on the matter?" She shuffled back, gulped, gasped for breath. "You betrayed my trust. You let me believe in you. You let me believe in us." She waved her hand back and forth between them, but the corners of her mouth curled down in contempt.
"I did it for you." His argument sounded weak, a pathetic attempt to justify his actions.
"You should have given me the opportunity to decide what was best." A tear trickled down her cheek. "Do you know what Miss Beaufort went through because of me? I came to the aid of a girl, a girl who reminded me of myself in every way. As a consequence, Miss Beaufort almost lost her life, almost became the property of a depraved madman. Do you have any idea what would have happened to her if Victor had gotten his way?"
"But Dane is in love with her. He has no intention of hurting her, just as I have no intention of hurting you."
Anna snorted, waved her hand to the floor, to the place where they had consummated their love. "Lying with a man is not love. Trusting a man, knowing he has your interests at heart, that you can always depend on him, that is love. Miss Beaufort wanted time to think, time to consider what she truly wants. Not what society dictates. Not what serves Victor, Lord Danesfield or her brother!"
"I was thinking of you," he repeated as he closed his eyes briefly.
"No, Marcus. You were thinking of your duty to your comrades. You ignored my wishes. You deceived me into believing I could trust you, into believing there was hope for … for …"
A sob broke suddenly, and she could not finish the sentence. Without another word, she turned and fled.
"Anna!"
Marcus did not go after her. She needed time to accept that her welfare had been the only motivating factor in his decision. She needed time to realise he was not Victor, not an evil monster of a man, but a man in love.
A man who would sell his soul to save her.
A man who would turn his back on everything he'd ever known for a chance to put it right.
Chapter 18
Anna ran through the cloisters, tears streaming down her face. They were the unshed tears of the innocent girl from Marlow. They were tears for all the unbearable days and nights she had spent at the mercy of a cold-hearted devil. They were the painful tears of heartbreak, of knowing the wonderful dream one always hoped for would never come to pass.
She knew of only one place she could go.
A chill breezed over her as she entered the chapel. Despite the darkness, there was an illuminating presence in the small room. She stared at the stained glass window, at the figure looking up to the heavens, at the golden glow surrounding him, and tried to rouse just a flicker of faith.
But she felt nothing.
How could she when the Lord refused to grant her even the smallest mercy? Perhaps she only had herself to blame. Sinners were supposed to repent. An image of Marcus nestled between her thighs flashed into her mind. In the eyes of some, she truly was a whore. But she had given herself to a man she loved.