Page 55 of The Rake's Bride
“I have known your husband for quite some time,” she finally said, and, just like that, Victoria’s stomach plummeted so quickly she experienced instantaneous nausea.
“Oh?” Victoria forced out. Was this woman about to admit that she was one of her husband’s paramours? It was one thing to move beyond his past; it was another to have it confront her with animosity oozing from its pores.
“Yes, through my good friend Lady Dallow. You see, I am here because of her. To lend support.”
“Support?”
She nodded as if it were obvious, and then she stepped closer. It was all Victoria could do not to recoil. “Blackwood was the wicked rake of thetonlong before you arrived, you know. He entranced many a lady.” She arched a brow. “Has he never mentioned Lady Dallow?”
Victoria shook her head once, experiencing a worsening sense of foreboding.
“No? Well, he was quite attached to the young widow; they had quite the torrid affair.”
“I do not judge my husband for his past,” Victoria snapped, injecting steel into her spine and standing up straight and strong.
“His past?” She tilted her head sympathetically, and Victoria did not care one bit for the false pity in her dark eyes. “Where do you think he is right now? You did not truly believe marriage could calm a man like that, did you?” Her every word dripped with condescension. “A man like that will never be content with monogamy. Go on; see for yourself.” She tilted her chin in the direction of the side of the veranda and the far wing of the house. “The sooner you accept the truth of your situation, the sooner you can move on with reality. Once a rake, always a rake. Once a man has been touched by a passion so great as that of Lady Dallow, he will be forever drawn to it, and what is meant to be, will be.”
Victoria’s every nerve went ice-cold. Despite her best efforts, her eyes strayed to where the woman had gestured. She was torn between not wanting to give Mrs. Pfinster the satisfaction of watching her attempt to spy on Rafe and, morbidly, wanting desperately to know the truth. Could her husband have been merely tolerating their newfound dynamic these past few weeks, all the while pining for his former lover? Hadn’t he always emphasized the power of physical attraction? What if he’d been drawn back to a woman more worldly than she, simply because they were better suited in bed? And here, she’d coerced him into attending this party and effectively tossed him back into Lady Dallow’s arms.
Victoria was saved from having to decide before an audience because the woman was pulled into another conversation. This was her chance.
She slipped away, her feet carrying her to the side steps of the veranda of their own volition. Victoria felt strangely as if she were watching another woman creep toward danger as shepicked up her skirts in her numb fingers and descended the several steps to the pathway. Her slippers were nearly silent on the crushed gravel as she followed the bend in the path on shaking legs. Manicured hedges were at least seven feet tall on either side of her as she listened for sounds of life.
She stepped around one more corner…and found her husband forcefully wrenching himself free from the grasp of an ethereally beautiful woman. Rafe shoved the blond woman away so hard that she stumbled backward, only barely catching herself on a hedge before she tumbled to the ground.
“What in God’s name do you think you are doing?” Rafe demanded through clenched teeth. “You know I am married.”
Victoria’s spirits soared. The situation was damning, but Rafe’s furious reaction to the woman’s advance buoyed her. She could not blame her husband for being a victim of Lady Dallow. That was, until the conversation between them continued.
“Since when have marriage vows bothered you?” the woman asked with a pout.
“They were never my own vows.”
“Why does that matter?”
“It does.”
“I fail to see the significance,” the woman scoffed. “You do not love her.”
Though she suspected as much, the words were like a blade plunging into Victoria’s chest…and Rafe’s reply was the weapon piercing her heart.
“Simply because I do not love my wife does not mean I will love you. Nothing about you inspires devotion. You may have been a pleasant diversion, but she offers me vastly more than you ever could.”
“Her money?”
“Precisely.” His shoulders heaved with his anger. “And I need you to listen and hear me. I will never desire you again. I will never give up what I have gained.”
The glass Victoria had forgotten she was carrying slipped from her numb fingers, shattering at her feet and scattering unnoticed crystal shards. The spray of champagne stained the hem of her gown.
Rafe whirled on Victoria, his eyes wide, mouth agape in horror. Surely, his expression was a mirror of her own. Then, his mouth twisted in anger, he turned back toward the other woman who was busy setting herself to rights.
Victoria took that as her opportunity to bolt.
She whirled on her heel, hurriedly gathered her skirts, and ran.
“Victoria!” Rafe shouted behind her, but she wouldn’t allow herself to hesitate.
She felt like the most pathetic sort of fool. She’d known how averse her husband was to declarations of love—what little stock he placed in the notion—and she’d gone and done just that. She’d thought she was being so brave, so raw and open with him at the time. And now…? Now she felt as if she were a laughingstock. Oh, how uncomfortable he must have been hearing her admit her feelings. She’d been so blinded by her own growing emotions to step back and realize that a man never changed.
