Beschreibung
“If you had delivered an heir, by law you would have been granted tenure at Delincourt and a stipend.” Lady Ogden felt the sudden, tight constriction under her breastbone. It was a dulled pain now but still capable of hurt. She would not deign to let him see how his words wounded. “I failed in my duty.” “Is there any chance you might be breeding?” A flush sprang into her cheeks. She tightened her clasped fingers until her knuckles turned white. She couldn’t imagine what conceivable business it could be of his – but of course! In a flash, she understood. He’d still be the heir presumptive if she was with child, and not entitled to the chair in which he was now sitting. For a wild moment, she thought of lying, of saying that there was a chance of it, if only to gain some time in hopes of making another way for herself; but she could not sacrifice her honor, after all. It was the only thing left to her besides her tattered pride. Her husband had not lain with her in the several weeks before the accident, and as for the last time... She lifted her chin. “None, my lord.” “Then there is nothing to be done for you.” The viscount’s flat statement fell harshly on her ears. Whatever fragile hope she had nourished withered. In dull despair, she looked at his angered, set face. The slow tick of the clock sounded unbearably loud. Some odd quality gathered in his expression, suddenly frightening her. His hard gaze bored into her own. He spoke slowly, very deliberately. “Unless, my lady, you were brought to bed of a child within the year of your mourning.” Lady Ogden stared into his unreadable eyes. But I have just informed him - At first, she did not understand. Then - when the incredible import dawned on her - she went hot and weak. The echo of his words taunted her through the chambers of her astonished mind. The air shuttled in and out of her lungs in rapid, shallow breaths. She wondered why she did not faint. But he waited, still watching her. Falcon's cruel eyes. Hating him, hating herself, she was sickeningly aware of the traitorous tempo of her heartbeat. She made herself answer him. "Y-yes, that is true." "Then you know what you must do." Vengeance. Desire. A steamy, seductive passion. Leave a review! Your opinion matters!