Page 79 of Ruined by the Wrong Earl

She stiffened her spine. ‘Devon, I fear you are thinking of Margaret. I would never betray you in such a fashion.’

‘No?’ He took a step forward and faced her. ‘This, my lady, is worse. You never said a word when you had the opportunity to do so. I’d call that worse betrayal.’

‘You’re wrong! And the fact that you don’t trust me after all this time tells me the problem is not with me, but with you. I would have hoped such an exciting offer to travel would have been met with support, not anger. I never made it a secret how much my research means to me and that I’d wanted to travel with a group of scientists. I’d hoped you’d be happy for me.’

‘Perhaps I would have, if you’d told me instead of my finding out from my political nemesis.’

She rubbed her temple. ‘I’m sorry for that. But I told you I just needed time to organize my thoughts and think.’ She’d felt safe with Lady Weber and a genuine friendship had come of their time together. It made sense that Lord Weber had overheard their conversation. The lady would not have spilled her secret to travel.

‘You will have all the time you need to think on the blasted ship.’ His voice was hard, unemotional. ‘Go.’ He waved towards the door. ‘Our marriage is not real, is it? Rather, it is a businesslike proposition, nothing more.’

After all they’d shared, he couldn’t believe that, could he? She’d stopped believing that a long time ago. It wasn’t just their shared passionate nights. He meant more to her, more than she dared confess aloud. Not now. Not when his past had come between them, and, in his anger, he’d thought her worse than Margaret.

He gave a curt bow. ‘As for now, I believe time apart is best, my lady.’

She didn’t want time apart. She came alive in that moment. ‘That’s not true! I care for you!’

‘Care?’ he ground out. ‘A woman who cares would have told her husband about such an offer. You are selfish and care only for yourself.’

She stood stunned, her thoughts jagged and painful.

‘Do not wait up for me tonight, my dear.’ He turned and left the room, his booted feet echoing across the corridor. A minute later, she heard the front door slam closed.

Nora had never in her life felt so devastated. Her heart ached. She ate little and her sleep was disturbed. She woke in a sweat, her sheets tangled around her legs.

She missed Ralston badly. Their argument haunted her. She’d waited up for him that first night and had given up on sleep. She ended up in his favorite chair in the library, curled up in front of the low-burning coal grate.

She imagined what she would say to him when he came home. She loved him. Looking back, she didn’t know when her love had first blossomed. Was it when he’d gifted her with a room for her scientific endeavors? Or was it further back, when he’d funded her purchase of the microscope? Or was it the night she took him to a tavern, and he loved her family’s food? Her heart had slipped with each passing gesture, each shared moment. Marriage had been freeing and wonderful and passionate.

To make matters worse, Ralston didn’t return that night or the next or the next. A full week went by and his abandonment confused her. His lack of trust in her was more devastating. He’d thought her worse than Margret. It was far from the truth. He needed to learn to trust but that was not something she could do for him. He must recognize it himself.

As for her husband, the only news she’d heard was what she’d read in The Morning Post. The Cotton Mills Act passed in the House of Lords. Her fingers had trembled as she’d held the newspaper.

Ralston had to be thrilled. She longed to share his sweet success with him, but he failed to return. Nora’s anxiety was at an all-time high. Miss Lyons visited later that week. Nora asked for more time to decide, and the lady granted her two additional days.

Nora arose early and immediately sought out Mrs Hanning. ‘Where is his lordship?’

The normally proper housekeeper shifted her feet and lowered her eyes. ‘He never told us where he was going, my lady.’

Nora’s despair was turning into desperation. She had no reason to doubt the housekeeper. Ralston was not planning to return any time soon.

The clock was ticking, and she needed to make a decision. Ralston’s words returned in a rush:

Go. Our marriage is not real, is it? Rather, it is a businesslike proposition, nothing more.

He’d then proceeded to call her worse than Margaret. The hurtful words were like a knife to her heart. Would he abandon her after their argument? How could he be so mistrustful after all they’d shared? His inability to trust was too deep-seated for him to overcome. He should have trusted her or at least understood why she hadn’t told him right away.

Or was he glad for a reason to be rid of her?

She’d never considered this thought. Perhaps he was waiting for her to leave before he returned. He hadn’t planned on marrying. Certainly not as swiftly as he had. She was the one who’d slipped into his room, into his bed, giving him little choice. He’d been concerned that scandal would ruin his political career. But now that his bill had passed—in spite of the gossip everyone must have seen—there was no reason to keep her around. Maybe this was the opportunity he’d been waiting for. Perhaps his leaving home was so that he would not have to say goodbye or put up with any feminine tears.

She would never believe this of him. But then again, she would never have believed he would walk out and not return.

Nora fought tears as she clung to the balustrade and she dragged herself up the stairs to her room. She threw open her trunk and began tossing clothes inside. Tonight, she would begin the painstaking task of wrapping seashells in paper and trying not to cry.

Packing was a time-consuming process. Her seashells were fragile and her books heavy. The microscope had to be packed with care. Then there were her dresses, shoes and accessories. Nora was grateful when Candace and Sara arrived to help.

Candace had taken over the task of wrapping her shells in paper. ‘It didn’t take this long to move you into this Berkeley Square home.’