“You are going back on your promise, then? I am not to have this house?”
“Do you wish last night to be your payment? Then I shall insist on more payments. If you are accepting that bargain, then as I see it, we are merely negotiating the price for your future services.”
“There will be none.”
He kept her gaze. “But you have accepted my offer.”
“I have not, and I will not.” What choice did she have? He wanted to use their night to mean something commercially. Until he pointed that out, she hadn’t realized that point. She wanted to keep last night sacred in her mind, to have every part of it in her remembrance. It was the one night she had lived, the one time she had been herself.
Glancing around, she picked up her fichu and arranged it neatly, covering her bosom and tucking it in the way she usually did. Her skirts were sadly creased, but she would change when she arrived home, so that mattered little.
He watched her. The silence between them became unbearable and by the time she’d finished her task, her hands were shaking. She put her cap back on and tucked her hair under it, then perched her hat over the mess she’d made. She did not trust herself to do any more. She had pulled her stockings and shoes on when she dressed, although one of her garters was missing.
“I must thank you for your hospitality.” Even as she said it she knew she was being foolish. “I enjoyed seeing the house. For the rest, I will not mention it, except to say—” What could she say, other than the truth? But if she said that, she would be letting out far more than she wanted. “Except to say that I have never known anything like it, nor do I expect to do so again.”
He sat completely still, watching her.
She left.
***
When Annie closed the front door, she slammed closed a part of his life.
Gerald sprang to his feet, grabbing up his shirt and the rest of his clothes with a suppressed fury the garments did not in the least deserve. If he wasn’t careful he’d tear something. Not that he cared much, he’d walk through London naked if he could change her mind.
Worst of all, he knew she was right. She’d done the right thing. They had to break away, to snap the bond before it grew too strong to be broken. Except he feared that might have happened already.
Something inside him was close to tipping over, to breaking all his good resolves, his promises to lead a virtuous life.
While he wouldn’t call himself a hedonist, Gerald had always enjoyed pleasure. Cutting it out of his life would make him a martyr, and most martyrs were impossible to live with.
He would never forget Annie, because whether she knew it or not, she had taken part of him with her. If he never saw her again, she would always be here.
As he bent to pick up his neckcloth, he stumbled. Although he told himself he had overbalanced, he knew it was a lie.
The thought of never seeing her again, that had done it. A chasm opened up inside him and he wanted to weep.
What had he done? He’d created a yearning that would not be fulfilled, except by one person.
Gerald could not bear any more. Making haste, he dressed and left the house, abandoning the place to its own devices.
He arrived in his grand house in Grosvenor Square to discover his sisters at breakfast. After a quick trip to his suite to restore his appearance, he went downstairs and joined them. He did his best to behave as if this was a normal day in their new life.
“Ha, here he is,” Damaris said. “Does giving your mistress her congé include spending the night in her bed?”
Delphi looked up from her book sharply and waved at the footman. Without a shift in his expression, the man left. “The beauty of well-trained servants,” she said.
“They’re probably listening at the door,” Dorcas put in, reaching for the toast.
Gerald went to the sideboard and helped himself to a modest helping of food. When he sat, Delphi leveled her reading glasses at it. “What made you lose your appetite?”
“I haven’t.” Picking up his knife and fork he cut into a chop. “And in case you were wondering, I don’t have a mistress.”
Delphi sniggered. “Not any more. Gerald, we cut our eye-teeth years ago. You dismissed her, did you?” She glanced at her sisters. “Do either of you know who it is? Or was, I should say.”
Damaris and Dorcas shook their heads and turned their attention expectantly to their brother.
Gerald sighed and put down his knife and fork. Ignoring the edict about elbows on the table, he clasped his hands and peered over the top of them at his siblings. While his sisters were triplets, they were not identical, and three pairs of differently-shaded blue eyes gazed at him now. “No mistress,” he repeated.