Devilish Lord, Mysterious Miss by Annie Burrows

Author:Annie Burrows
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: fiction
Publisher: Harlequin Mills & Boon Publishing

Chapter Seven

Lord Matthison held out his arm for Mary to take. He opened the door for her, held back the curtain so they could pass through it into the showroom, and handed her into the waiting carriage with punctilious correctness.

But his face was white, and his eyes had taken on a murderous look.

Mary’s heart was racing. Her stomach had been churning even before Madame had blurted out the truth she had hoped Lord Matthison would never hear. She could see he was barely containing his fury. She was not afraid he might do her any physical harm. But she dreaded what he would say once he got her alone. Now that he knew what she had done, he was bound to throw her out.

The bitter taste of betrayal rose in her throat. She choked back a sob.

His promises had meant nothing! Men never stuck to their word. They said whatever they thought would achieve the desired result, but there was no loyalty in them.

By the time they reached his chambers, her hurt had curdled into anger. It was his own fault if he was disappointed in her. She had repeatedly told him she was not what he thought she was.

‘Don’t you at least want to hear my side of it?’ she said, as Ephraims took his master’s hat, coat and gloves.

A spasm of something like disgust flitted across his set white features. He took her by the arm, and roughly dragged her into the sitting room, kicking the door shut behind them.

‘Only,’ he breathed, ‘if you want to tell me about it. But you don’t, do you? My God, I’m so sorry,’ he groaned, taking her completely by surprise by hauling her into his arms and enveloping her in a hold so strong she could scarcely breathe. ‘I should have left it all in the dark, not forced it into the light. That bastard Sandiford!’ He let her go, but only to cup her face in his hands so that he could look into her eyes.

She blinked back at him in confusion.

‘Y-you are not angry with me?’

‘With you?’ He looked stunned. ‘For fighting off a brute like that? Of course not!’

She shook her head. ‘Did you not hear what Madame said? How that I attacked him? Were you not listening?’

‘I was listening to a spiteful woman trying to drive a wedge between us,’ he bit back. ‘But I know you, Cora. And I know Sandiford. So it is quite obvious what happened.’

‘You do not know me!’ she protested. If he had not called her Cora, she might have taken comfort in his blind faith. But it was not faith in her. He was just so besotted with the memory of his fiancée that he could not see her getting involved in a scene so sordid, it had the power to make her feel ill to this very day.

She tore herself away from him, and faced him down, her fists clenched at her sides. How could he go on clinging to his delusion even when faced with the truth? She could stand it no longer.

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