She stepped back. He dropped his hand and Thea hugged her middle. “The Knight family—I believed we would always be there for each other, and I wanted so badly to do well for them. Then suddenly, everything I believed in was gone. Yet I did nothing wrong.”
“I know.”
“I did what I thought was right, yet I ended up punished and exiled. And I will not accept this injustice, when I have the slightest chance to put it right. You cannot understand, when you have all…” She waved an arm around her. “This. But this pamphlet, my dreams—they are all I have.”
“Not quite true,” he said.
He was right. She did have more: She had memories. Wonderful memories. Of him, of their kisses, their laughter, his strong arms and gentle heart, their conversations and play. How magical and marvelous that she could always take a piece of him with her, of this gentle, caring man who berated himself for failing his wife, when his only failure was that he could not see how much more he had to give. He had given Thea only a tiny piece of himself, true, but that would be enough. It had to be enough. He wasn’t inviting her to stay here in his beautiful house. He wasn’t inviting her into his life at all. He was telling her to leave. He was telling her…
“I beg your pardon?” she said, realizing he had spoken and she had missed the words. “What did you just say?”
“I said, you’ll be rich soon.”
She snorted. “The pamphlet will not make money. It will cost me dearly. I shall sell those items I bought on your account to pay for it.”
“I mean your dowry. Fifteen thousand pounds. When I called on your father in London, he agreed to give it to me. My solicitor is making arrangements so it comes to you instead.”
Her knees failed her, and Thea plopped down on the nearest chair.
“You villain,” she said, her voice cracking. “How dare you do something like that?”
“It seemed right.”
“It makes it hard for me to hate you.”
“It’s better for us both if you do hate me.” He headed for the door. “There is no place for you here.”
“I never said there was.” She sat up straight and donned her most imperious look. “I shall go, of course, but when I’m good and ready, and not before.”
“Fine. Stay. Go. Don’t stay. Don’t go. I don’t care what you do.”
With another shake of his head, Rafe disappeared out the door.
After Thea had changed into a dry gown and tidied up, she headed downstairs. In the foyer, a pair of maids shot her a look and whispered behind their hands before darting away. But no one came to throw her out, so she went into the library, where she found a thick letter from Arabella and tore it open.
Enclosed in Arabella’s letter was a note from Helen. Thea scanned her sister’s words hungrily, relieved to confirm she had married Mr. Russell at the Scottish border, as planned, and the happy couple were heading to Brighton to flaunt their marriage before fashionable society.
“Perhaps now you’ll believe it’s true love, for we haven’t a single regret between us,” Helen wrote. “Except one: I regret I had to leave that smelly greatcoat behind.”
A reflection in the glass caught her eye. Thea whirled around, to face Sally and Martha.
It seemed an age before anyone spoke.
“So. You are not really the countess,” Sally said. “You are neither his wife, nor his lover.”
“I was pretending.”
Thea’s voice sounded too small and she didn’t like that in herself. Whatever else happened, she had vowed that never again would she give up her voice.
“I am sorry I deceived you,” she said, loud and clear. “It was to help a friend and my sister. I was pretending to be someone I am not.”
To Thea’s surprise, Sally responded with a broad smile. “We’ve all done that. What woman hasn’t?”
Thea waited. Surely there would be more. Surely they would next tell her how awful she was.
But Martha only shrugged. “That explains the other matter.”
“What other matter?”
“The matter of separate beds. I thought he needed some medicine to help him, but he got upset at my suggestion.”
Thea thought of Rafe’s hard body pressed against hers—exceedingly desirable, he had said—and her cheeks heated. “He was being honorable.”
“If a man could impregnate a woman with a look, you would birth triplets,” Martha said.
“Um.” Thea thought about this. “That’s rather disturbing, Martha.”
The older woman only laughed.
“His lordship has agreed to let me stay a little longer,” Thea added, glossing over the details of their argument. “But I should move out of the countess’s chambers. If you have a smaller room?”