“You could always divorce me on the grounds of adultery,” she suggested hopefully.
She tossed out the rude comment as a gambit and then regretted it when Colin looked keen and possessive.
“Yours or mine?” he asked.
“Mine, of course.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Of course you do. You never slept with Dillingham.”
His audacity took her breath away.
“Really,” she answered with scorn. “And how would you know that? Confident that you ruined me for any other man?”
His smile was deceptively slow and mild. “No, but a marriage contracted to save the family farm is rarely full of passion.”
Belinda sucked in a breath.
“And then there’s the fact that you had sex with me here in Vegas three years ago only after we were married. What did you say you’d come to understand? You were looking for a man who played for keeps? I guessed that you were likewise making Tod wait.”
Belinda realized she was chewing on her bottom lip and abruptly stopped—to anyone who knew her well, her habit was a giveaway that she was nervous. Three years ago, she’d still been smarting from being tossed aside by a boyfriend.
“Except I ruined matters for you with Dillingham, didn’t I?” Colin continued. “And now, in desperation, Uncle Hugh has taken matters into his own hands. I bet you had no idea the Wentworth financial affairs were quite so desperate.”
Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
She should have figured that Colin had an ace up his sleeve. After all, she’d seen his successful streak at the poker tables three years ago. And she knew from his real-estate holdings that he had an uncanny ability with numbers and investing.
“Have you spoken with your uncle lately?” he countered.
“No.” Belinda searched her brain. “What’s wrong with Uncle Hugh?”
“Nothing, but he has given up his Mayfair town house.”
Belinda knew her uncle moved around on a regular basis. “There’s nothing unusual—”
“Permanently.”
Belinda stilled. “Why would he do that?”
“Because the Mayfair town house now belongs to me.”
Belinda shook her head. “That’s impossible.”
Just a few months ago, she’d been at the Mayfair address that had belonged to the Wentworth family for generations. True, her uncle had seemed preoccupied and worried, but she’d never imagined—
“On the contrary, you’ll find the deed has been properly recorded…unlike our annulment. Your uncle may still reside there on his estates, but it’s at my discretion.”
Belinda looked at him with stupefaction. “Why in the world would Uncle Hugh sell the town house to you? You’re the last person in the world to whom he’d sell.”
“Simple,” Colin responded in a dry tone. “He wasn’t aware I was the ultimate buyer. The town house was sold to one of my companies. Presumably he didn’t know I was the principal shareholder. I imagine he thought he
was selling to one of those newly minted Russian oligarchs who prize privacy as well as London real estate.”
She stared at Colin in astonishment. It couldn’t be…