“Tristan, I was going to eventually...”
Tristan stepped closer to the friend he had just lost. He did not use any physical force, but he had Brandon staggering backward until his back met a wall.
“There is nothing to explain,” Tristan said, the hurt in his voice palpable. “I would have given you anything you wanted, Brandon. I would have helped you out of your situation. The best way would have been to marry Miss Longrove and settle with her and your child. There would have been no need for the scandal to spread. I would have protected you in every way I know I can. But this... You were together at the wedding party, were you not? While I was drowning in guilt for not wanting to marry her, you were together having your fun. You had the gall to even try to convince me to marry your own paramour.”
His lips curled into a sneer. Cathy shivered at the sight of his hatred.
“You are dead to me,” he continued, his words heavy with finality. “If I see you again, you will never be anything more thana stranger. I will not let you speak about my wife in any capacity again.”
Cathy watched her husband with her heart breaking. It must have hurt to have someone close to you betray you in such a way. She could still remember the shock of finding out that her father had left them penniless.
Betrayal by someone you loved and trusted was the worst. Rage hummed through Tristan. When he turned to her, his face softened.
“I suppose our ledger has now been balanced,” he declared, but with no satisfaction. “Let us go home, Cathy. There isnothing left for us here.”
“No, Tristan. Not before I tell you what I have come here to say.”
Epilogue
“Ihave been a fool, a blind fool, Your Grace,” Cathy said, feeling almost nauseous from her grief. “I feel wretched.”
Cathy’s words were spilling out too quickly for her to stop. Her emotions were a jumble—relief that Tristan was not the father of Anne’s baby and that he had never touched her, mixed with guilt over disbelieving his first protests. The chill of the autumn wind she barely felt. She had enough heat from her pounding heart, especially since Tristan did not respond immediately. Instead, he simply watched her quietly, making the suspense unbearable.
Tristan turned and walked toward the waiting carriage, his stride long and determined. His jaw was clenched, and his brows furrowed, as if he was deep in concentration.
“Tristan, wait!” she called, trying to keep pace with him. “Please, listen to me.”
Cathy had always been one of the tallest ones in most groups, even taller than the average man. But Tristan was a titan among men, who could walk much faster than she could.
He adjusted his pace, slowing down while she followed him.
“I believed Anne,” Cathy continued. “I judged you based on your past and the fears that had been lurking within me all along. They were proof enough for me, even though I should have given you a chance to speak. I should have given you the same benefit of the doubt I would have readily given a stranger.”
Tristan abruptly stopped when she almost collided with his broad back. He finally turned to face her, his shadow looming over her. On his face was not fury, but exhaustion. There were dark circles around his eyes that she had not noticed before. Their marriage had been an emotionally depleting dance so far, and she wanted the myriad misunderstandings and misery to stop. But it was certain that they continued to be drawn together in the most inexplicable way.
“Stop, Cathy,” he said, his voice gravelly. “Let’s stop this.”
What did he mean by that? Panic rose from within her. Did he want to steer away from the marriage that they both considered to be a burden from the beginning? Was he willing to forget the better parts of their marriage so far?
“I cannot,” she protested, her desperation choking her. She had willingly shed her Miss Priggish persona and the walls she had surrounded herself with so he could listen to her. “My father is not the type of man one should use as an example of what a good man should act like. He drinks and lies. He drained our savings. It was why I would rather deal with the reality of numbers. They are tangible. They are real. Logic says that you being a rake, Anne being your betrothed at some point, and her being pregnant with your child all make sense together. I could not fathom how she would shame herself in Baxter Hall with lies. How can someone lie so easily? But I...”
Tristan reached out to cup her face. The movement startled Cathy. She was expecting unforgiving rage, but there was none at all from that touch. His skin was warm and gentle against her, caressing her cheeks.
“Because I know about your father,” he began, his eyes probing hers. Her knees trembled at the way he was looking at her. “It is why I looked for him for you. It is why I know you have these walls surrounding you, just as you take comfort in things you are certain of. So, yes, I understand why you reacted that way, Cathy.”
Tristan exhaled audibly, letting his forehead drop against hers. A whimper escaped Cathy’s lips as she closed her eyes to breathe him in. He was all that she had dreamed a man would be, even if she had never dared to dream. He was a man who did not seem stable or safe, but could provide her with the security she wanted.
“I had been afraid, too, Cathy,” he admitted. “It terrified me to think of ever opening my heart to you. For years, people saw me as a rake. I was a man who cared for nothing but women and drink. Everything was a conquest, and not something to be cherished, slipping away from my life and my hands just as quickly as I caught them. My family did not teach me how to love. They cared more for material things and left a void in me that I kept trying to fill, but kept on failing to do so.”
His hands traveled from her cheeks to the nape of her neck, where his fingers threaded through her curls. The touch was meant to be tender, but it evoked a different feeling in her. He was the only one who could awaken the fire in her, and it was so sharp that it was almost painful in its edging toward desire.
“It terrified me that you would leave me if you truly saw who I am,” he continued. His voice cracked, showing that the man was not an arrogant rake who had everything handed to him easily. “You are an independent woman who can turn your fortune around on your own if you have the mind to. You could probably see that I was not worth the effort and then leave. When you ran from me, I really thought you would never return. At that moment, I knew that I could not bear to live without you, Cathy.”
Cathy opened her eyes, then her vision blurred by unshed tears. They suddenly sprang from where they should have remained hidden. She looked into his eyes and saw that his eyes were misty, too.
“Tristan.”
His name felt like music on her tongue. Why didn’t she ever use it as often?