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He’d been a fool to fall apart like he had.

To fall in love with his wife.

Goodness gracious, he was in love. For the first time in his life, at the age of thirty-two, he loved a woman.

The last one in the world he should love.

His murder victim’s sister.

Her smile fell as she looked into his face.

Good.

“Nothing she hasn’t seen before, I’m sure,” he said gruffly.

Her eyes widened. “With— Oh.”

The look of hurt on her face made his own heart break a million times. He ached to calm her, to assure her he didn’t mean him. It would be so much worse, though, if she ever found out the truth.

He didn’t correct her. He never had women here, and he certainly never slept with any of the maids.

“I must go,” he said, his stomach twisting.

He had to force his legs to move away from her, while what he wanted most in the world was to scoop her into his arms and stay with her here, in this sunlit room.

He ached to ask her if she was still in pain. If he hadn’t hurt her too much. To reassure her that any discomfort would fade away in a few days and that he’d keep bringing her pleasure for the rest of their lives.

But he did none of those things.

Instead, fear chasing him, he walked out of the sunshine back into the dark hallway, and then he broke into a run.

He was terrified.

He loved a woman, and she responded to him. She could love him, too. He had true happiness at his fingertips for the first time in his life…and he’d crush it all sooner or later. Hurt her like no one had hurt her before. He was sure of it.

He needed to hit something. Smash something.

Before he could break the love of his life’s heart.

25

Patience sat at the rosewood desk in her sitting room, quill in hand as she pored over her botanical journal.

Her mind was divided. Part of it was focused on transcribing her data on the control group of roses, noting the progression of diseases like black spot and powdery mildew. After Chastity had pointed out to her that such data was missing from her research, Patience had gone through her journals and realized she actually might have enough data to represent the control group.

The other half of her mind wandered to Dorian.

A mere two days had passed since the best day of her life. When he had shared the deepest part of himself with her and they had become one. Truely husband and wife. When she had told him about her roses, and he had encouraged her to finish her botanical paper, and she had glowed from his belief in her.

He was the first person in her life who had supported her that way. Not even Anne had suggested she write the paper and submit it. Lady Chastity had found a flaw in it, even though that had turned out to be useful.

But he had said she should do it.

He had made her his, truly and irrevocably, and when they were connected in the deepest ways two people could, she had trusted him. And she’d been so, so happy.

In that blissful moment, entwined in his strong arms, she knew she loved him.

Which made it hurt even more when the next moment he had drawn back and become as cold as ice.