Page 59 of Lady Tempts a Rogue

God rot the…the…rotter.

A stilted, strained silence descended upon the coach, growing ever more palatable and tense as the horses clip-clopped, clip-clopped their way toward Berkeley Square. Finally—thank God, for Trinity wanted to scream and tear at her hair—the vehicle slowed, then stopped before a stately stone mansion.

Not ostentatious, but decidedly upper crust.

One of the twins, Trinity had no idea which, opened the door and helped her descend.

She half-turned, waiting for Devin to join her.

Not the happy homecoming she had hoped and prayed for them.

Mr. Shillingford climbed out next, and after offering Trinity a heartening smile, he also faced the carriage. “Sir?”

Devin spoke from the darkened interior, his tone cold, flat, and emotionless.

“Help Trinity inside, Shillingford. See that she has everything she needs. I am going to Essex. I do not know when I shall be back.”

Humiliated to her core, Trinity could not say a word. Only stood mute, shaking from cold, mortification, and powerful rage that almost choked her as she watched the coach carrying her new husband away until it disappeared.

Devin had abandoned her.

Dumped her on the stoop and left without a backward glance.

She refused to let the tears flow. Hands fisted, she swallowed and blinked the moisture away.

Shillingford’s pitying glance nearly undid her, but she notched her chin higher.

You’re everything my mother would’ve despised in a wife for me. Precisely why I picked you.

Each clipped word, the monologue playing over and over in her head, stabbed Trinity, creating oozing wounds. Wounds that would take a long time to heal.

“He did not mean it, Mrs. Everingham,” Mr. Shillingford said kindly as he guided her up the steps.

She shot him a cynical glance. “I think we both know he did.”

“He would not have married you for that reason alone,” he said. “Of that, I am positive.”

Bless the man for trying to make her feel better.

Devin still had no excuse to treat her like a soiled news sheet. The sting of anger heating her blood, she glanced down the street. Well then, she would give her husband of fewer than two weeks a reason to treat her like rubbish.

“Mr. Shillingford, may I presume when my husband said that I am to have everything I need, that includes funds? A carriage? A horse? A lady’s maid? New furniture? A puppy? Pineapples? Turkish Delight? Sugar plums?”

What other ridiculous luxuries?

“Indeed, madam. I believe those are all necessities.” He rapped upon the indigo door.

“A talking parrot?” She gave him a wicked grin. “No, a swearing parrot.”

Devin said he wanted a parrot. Trinity would find the most foul-mouthed fowl ever to hatch.

The man of business burst into laughter. “An absolute essential.”

“Ah, then I should like to go shopping on the morrow, Mr. Shillingford.”

“An excellent notion.” The door opened, and Mr. Shillingford escorted her inside. “My wife always finds a shopping excursion most revitalizing and a boon to her constitution.”

Trinity permitted another naughty grin. “Oh, trust me, Mr. Shillingford. My constitution shall be completely invigorated by the time I am done.”

Then she would seek an annulment. For, by all that was holy, she refused to spend the rest of her life with a man who could so easily discard her.

Revenge might be a little bit sweet, after all.