She leapt forward, one of those small fists raised, and hit him squarely in the chest. "We are married! I. Am. Your. Duchess!"
He had walked into the room to find his duchess in the arms of another man. The similarity to his parents' marriage brought on another tidal wave of anger that threatened to pull him under. "By vows that you begged me to annul," he pointed out.
"Yes, but after that-"
"For God's sake, Duchess, you're getting what you wanted," he bit out. "I'm getting what I wanted. This was a mistake from the beginning, and you know it."
She fell back a step. "It will be a scandal."
If he had hoped there was any chance that she meant more by her declaration that she was his duchess, that sentence disabused him of that notion. No woman wanted a scandal, any more than his mother had, but his mother's fears had come second to being with the man she loved. Still, his mother managed to remain a duchess and keep her lover.
He tightened his hand into a fist, forcing himself to speak calmly. "It may take a few years, but the scandal will settle down. You'll have Reeve, and I'll find another duchess. I'm in no hurry."
She flinched. "I see," she said, her eyes searching his face.
"You've been together for only a few days," Reeve put in, "so it's hardly a marriage. It isn't as if you've shared much."
Mia gasped. Reeve's brow knitted at the sound, and Vander said nothing, just looked at him steadily. That's right, you bastard, he thought in some deep, primitive part of his brain. I had her first. She sobbed my name. I took her up against the stable wall and she begged for more.
But Vander's pulse of triumph evaporated like mist in the sun.
Reeve was taking everything that mattered. He had Mia's love. He had all her laughter and tenderness. All the courage that meant Mia had never feared him, as a duke or as a man. All the intelligence and creativity and passion that she poured into her novels. All the kindness that had made Chuffy and Jafeer fall promptly in love with her.
Vander bowed and turned to summon Gaunt. He felt like a dead man as he walked across the room.
"One more thing," Mia said, from behind him.
Vander stilled, halfway to the door.
"You already knew that Edward did not jilt me, but you said nothing." Her words broke the silence like the sharp crack of a pistol. "Why didn't you tell me as soon as you learned the truth?"
His mouth tightened before he forced himself to relax. He turned to face her. "I found out yesterday, but I wanted my fourth night, Duchess. I had paid for it."
"You paid for it?" she repeated slowly. "I paid for those nights, or don't you remember your accusation?"
"Four nights was the charm."
"Four nights," she whispered. "That's all I was to you: four nights?"
"Don't make me into a hero, Duchess. You can have only one of those in a story, remember?"
This time, when he walked to the door, no one called his name.
Chapter Thirty
Perhaps all the tears Mia had shed in her short marriage had dried up the supply. Or perhaps there is a kind of grief too bitter for tears. She had been shredded by the world, torn into scraps, and tossed onto the toll road.
Mere scraps of humanity can't cry.
She departed Rutherford Park with her manuscript and a valise packed with Madame duBois's creations. She even left Charlie behind, reassuring him that she would send for him as soon as she possibly could. It would be different if she was traveling to Carrington House directly, but Edward didn't think it was advisable until Sir Richard was in custody. She couldn't confuse and upset Charlie by dragging him off to an inn with Edward, especially when Sir Richard was still a threat. Instead, she left Susan behind to take care of him.
For the first several minutes as their carriage bowled down the road, Mia stared silently out the window, trying in vain to harden herself. Her treacherous heart was screaming, demanding that she stop the carriage and return to Vander. Plead with him to keep her, seduce him if she had to . . .
Had she no pride? The man had taken his four nights and turned his back. Grief and rage were battling, but misery was threatening to win and pull her under when Edward leaned forward and put a hand on her knee.
"I've been in prison, Mia, but there hasn't been one hour as painful as that conversation with the duke. I'm sorry it happened."
"Vander just handed me off." Her voice caught and she took a deep breath. "He didn't even argue. I was no more to him than a wrongly addressed parcel."
"Some men do not give wedding vows the same weight as do women," Edward said carefully.
Mia felt as if a hole had opened up inside her, a well of pain that went back to her father's dismissive attitude and her brother's refusal to even consider her as an appropriate guardian to Charlie.
At the same time, her whole body ached at the idea of never seeing or touching Vander again. It was inconceivable. Impossible. He couldn't have really given her away.
But he had.
"He never asked what I thought," she said, her voice strained with pain. She hated the pity in Edward's eyes, so she added, "We only married a week or so ago, and he was beastly to me most of the time. I'll recover." It wasn't true. She'd never recover.
"Yet he was the man for whom you wrote that poem. The poem you told me about."
"Yes."
"Were you glad when I didn't appear at the altar?" His voice was as steady and calm as always.
Guilt ripped through her again. "No! Of course I wasn't! I loved-I mean, I love you. It's just that-"
"The result was that you married him."
"I had no choice," she cried, wrapping her arms around herself and choking back her tears. But wasn't he right? Hadn't she run straight to Vander, the first chance she got? Somehow, she could have found a gentleman to marry her. If worse came to worst, she could have married a total stranger, and bribed Sir Richard not to sue her. "I'm so sorry that I was the reason you almost died," she added, shame tightening her throat. "I feel terrible about what Sir Richard did to you. And I feel even worse that I didn't have more faith in you."
Edward rose and moved across to sit next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "I find it surprising that the duke is willing to give you up."
His words made another tide of despair wash through her, but an errant part of her wanted to defend Vander. "Before I blackmailed him, he had never been forced to do anything against his will. He told me over and over that I didn't have the qualities he would choose in a wife."
Edward's arm tightened. "He's a fool. But you should know that the moment I make you mine, I will never give you up. I would never be so foolish as he."
She closed her eyes and drew a breath, letting his words wash over her. They should have made her relieved. But all they gave her was greater despair.
Finally, she forced back more tears and looked up. "The truth is that I love him," she said, choking out the words.
She felt Edward go rigid, but she hurried on. "So it's more accurate to say that I'm the fool, because I knew what he thought about me. How he felt about me."
The truth was that a woman like her should never have looked at a rich and handsome duke.
The truth of it reeled through her mind. She wasn't violet-eyed and slender. She wasn't even very sweet, and no one had left her a secret inheritance.
None of this was Vander's fault. She had forced herself on him, and then she had made love to him-but he had merely had intercourse with her. Four nights' worth.
And yet he had been so generous in bed. What other man would have pushed away his rage at being blackmailed, forgiven his wife for her criminal behavior, and consummated their marriage with such tenderness?
He was a good man, and he deserved far better than she. His next duchess might have violet eyes or not, but she should be as forgiving and generous as he was.
Mia drew in a shuddering breath. She would get through this pain. It felt as keen as when her brother died, but that was ridiculous.
There was one thing that she had to make clear, though. She would not continue to make mistakes, and Charlie was safe from Sir Richard now.
"I cannot marry you," she said, turning to face Edward. "I'm so sorry. I'm just . . . I'm sorry for everything. I didn't know that I still loved Vander when we were betrothed, but after living with him, and being his wife, it wouldn't be right to marry you. Someday you'll find a woman who is much better than I am."
"What do you mean by that?" he asked, frowning at her.
"A real lady," she explained, a shudder passing through her at the memory of her behavior in the stables with Vander. She forced some enthusiasm into her voice. "Someone beautiful and far more suited to you!" Now she sounded like a barker trying to sell an undersized pig.