Page 18 of Wicked with Him

She regarded him warily. “Why would you care so much about where I’d gone?”

Crawford swung the basket by his side a few times, silent for a long painful moment, and then he pointedly lowered his gaze to the region of her belly. Her flat belly. He didn’t look at her as he spoke. “Since I did not see you again after that night, I was left to fear there might have been a complication to your plan. A consequence that you shouldn’t have to face alone.”

She blinked rapidly, the sharp pinch of emotion catching her by surprise. She had wondered if she might conceive after their one brief tryst, too. But her courses had come exactly on time after that night with him, and carrying a child of his wasn’t a remote possibility now. “You worried about me having your babe?”

“Very much.” He pulled a face. “Of course, I wanted to know that you were well after your first time, too.”

“Very well, and very grateful.” She raised her hand to her throat, relieved he hadn’t followed her for her dowry alone. “The mark you left upon my neck was proof enough of my wickedness that I was spared the need to submit to a more…intimate inspection.”

He gaped. “Your brother demanded you examined?”

“Not him, but my aunt suggested it might not be a true ruin. I feared George would want proof before he believed my tale entirely. A doctor would have been sent for eventually. Probably my cousin Nash Sweet, to keep any scandal quiet and in the family. That was why no half measures were possible. I had to be bedded thoroughly, beyond a shadow of a doubt.”

She looked up at his face, and saw Crawford’s expression was now set in murderous lines.

She put a restraining hand on his arm, fearing an outburst. “Everything that happened after you, I expected to happen.”

“Well, I did not expect this at all for you.” He threw his free arm out wildly, encompassing their surroundings. “The indignity of you being sent away and the threat of having your cousin look up your skirts cannot be borne. I ought to wring his bloody neck!”

Although she flinched inwardly at his wild gesture, she made herself remain still. “Calm yourself, Crawford,” she whispered, even as she nodded to a passing local who regarded Crawford with barely concealed interest.

“I’m sorry, but I cannot do that.”

She looked at him sharply, hoping he’d not cause a scene here in public view. “You must, for my sake if nothing else. There’s nothing you could have done. I was happy to leave London and reconciled to proving my ruin. But the unpleasantness is behind me now, and I can be at peace at last.”

“It is wrong that you are not living the life you were meant for. You’re not even being yourself.”

“I am more myself now than I have ever been,” she promised, telling him what she had always believed about her life in London, as she’d told herself those first nights when she unexpectedly experienced doubts. She had not been her real self in London, except for the one glorious night when Crawford had made love to her.

The pretend part of her life was over. This was better, even if pretending to live as a married woman with an absent husband meant she might never marry anyone at all or have the children she’d always imagined doting on. “Mrs. Standish lives a respectable life alone.”

Crawford made a grumbling sound, and then thankfully fell silent on the subject.

She studied his face carefully, wishing peace for him, too. While it was to his credit as a gentleman that he cared enough about her to seek her out, it changed nothing for Amity. Crawford was even more handsome than she remembered, but in love with someone else. She tried to take her basket from him. “It was good to see you again.”

“Not so fast. I still have your basket to carry for you.”

Although Amity reached for it again, he would not give it up. So, she had no choice but to continue with her shopping, and have Crawford keep her company. Even when she stopped to purchase ribbons, he never once complained she was taking too long. He stayed close. Watchful but seeming in no hurry to leave her, now that he’d found her safe and well.

As she browsed and bartered for her purchases, she cast an occasional glance toward her companion. It was hard to believe so confirmed a scoundrel had actually been worried enough about her welfare to follow her here, of all places.

Done with the market, she returned to his side and added her last purchases to the basket he carried. “That’s everything I need.”

“So, tell me about your Mr. Standish,” Crawford asked in a low tone. “Is he somewhere about?”

“No.” She wet her lips and hid a smile. Standish was a figment of her imagination. “My husband and I quarreled over his affairs, and I left him wallowing in some harlot’s petticoats. I am quite done with him.”

“I don’t blame you at all.” Crawford grinned, catching on quickly and lowering his voice. “You keep the advantage of having a living husband somewhere to protect your reputation without having to deal with one underfoot. Very wise of you.”

“I thought so.” She’d modeled her husband’s behavior on Crawford, right down to his continued infatuation for her sister-in-law. Of course, she’d changed everyone’s names and places of residence.

Crawford nodded. “So, can I assume he’s a stranger in these parts, like you are, too?”

“Yes, but I describe him very well, and most of my new friends agree I’m better off without such a man in my life.”

“What do the rest of them say?”

“That he’ll come to his senses one day, mend his ways and come crawling back. All philanderers feel a need to be reformed by their wives, or so I’m assured.”