A Brooding Beauty by Jillian Eaton Read Free Book Online

it was before, when they first fell in love and he had the entire world at his fingertips. He imagined her heavy with his child, and –
    “Yes, of course I wish to remain married.” Catherine looked at him oddly, and too late Marcus realized his expression must have revealed some of the longing he was desperately trying to contain.
    Her winged eyebrows drew together over the bridge of her nose, and a frown captured her mouth. “But it will be as it has been, Marcus. I shall maintain my residence in the city during the Season, while you conduct your business from Kensington. Surely you did not think we would live together?” The musical sound of her laughter sliced through him like a knife.
    “Do not be foolish,” he scoffed, even as he wondered if this is how it felt to die from the inside out. “I simply wanted to make certain my wife would not be underfoot should I choose to entertain someone of the… female persuasion.”
    For the first time her veneer of aloofness cracked. He waited for her to do something, to say something that would give him reason to hope she still felt for him as he did for her, but she drew in a deep breath and the anger that had temporarily brightened her eyes dimmed into acceptance.
    “No, we wouldn’t want that,” she said softly, dropping her gaze to the wildflowers that bloomed at her feet. Bending down she picked a large daisy and started to systematically pluck the white petals off one by one. They began to spiral towards the ground in slow, lazy circles. “As I said, I will only be at Kensington for as long as it takes Hannah to pack my things. When I am gone you may entertain your… guests as often as you like.”
    “Just make certain you hurry,” he said. He wanted to hurt her, hurt her as badly as she had him, and a dark sense of satisfaction settled over his shoulders when he saw her flinch from his cruel barb.
    Still keeping her eyes averted, she shrugged. “Yes, well, I will do my best. Now if you will excuse me I must return to the cottage to change into a dress more suitable for traveling. The carriage should be here soon.” She dropped the flower and brushed her palms against the sides of her skirt.
    When she swept past him he did not try to stop her, nor did he turn to watch her go. Instead he knelt to pick up the mangled daisy she had carelessly discarded and shoved it in his pocket. It still had one petal left.
     
    Catherine made it halfway to Kensington before sobs overwhelmed her petite frame and she cried out her heartache inside of the small bouncy carriage with its musty velvet interior and one squeaky wheel.
    It had taken all of the strength she possessed to keep from falling to pieces in front of Marcus. She had kept waiting for him to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless. To erase from her mind the hateful things he had said and done with words of love and adoration. She even thought she had seen something in those gray, stormy eyes… a flicker of compassion, a seed of yearning, but she had been mistaken. Marcus did not yearn and he had no compassion. Not for her. Not for anyone or anything. He was a cold man, a man incapable of basic human feeling, and she was well rid of him.
    A fresh torrent of salty tears poured down her pale cheeks as she remembered how he had flung his paramours in her face. She had drawn so far into herself by that point she hadn’t even known what she was saying, only that she had to find a way to leave before she crumpled at his feet and begged him to love her. The knowledge of how close she had been to doing just that terrified her. Catherine would never humble herself to anyone, let alone her own husband, a man who held her in such low regard he could not look upon her face without contempt gleaming in his eyes.
     
    The carriage reached Kensington just as the sun was setting. When Catherine emerged her tears were gone, but her face was unnaturally pale and her eyes lined with red. The sight of her lady’s maid