Mark leaned back in his seat, letting the teacup warm his knees. Dread curdled in his stomach. And to think it had once been a love match.
Chapter Three
Mark heard the hushed voices outside the closed drawing room door.
Finally. He’d waited two whole hours. Mark took a deep breath, bracing himself for a flutter of silliness, nerves, and giggles. As the door opened, Mark stood.
A woman paused in the doorway, dressed in a simple wool gown with hardly any bustle at all. Her light brown hair wisped around her shoulders and made a frizzy halo about her face. She was taller than Mark remembered, but the brown eyes and rosy cheeks were the same. The bright gold wedding ring on her hand, the same. The sharp chin, the swan-like neck, the same. She was older, yes, he could tell that immediately. And she stood more confidently than he had imagined.
“Ellen.” Mark bowed and smiled, stomach full of fluttering moths. “You look lovely.” True. “It’s so wonderful to see you.” Not so true.
Ellen stood in the doorway for several heartbeats, like a statue. Even her face went white as marble. “You.” Her tone was low, hard, and sharp.
Mark fumbled, and the moths turned to bees. “Uh, yes. I wasrecently discharged from the Navy and I’ve come to see you. I know it’s been overlong, my love, but?—”
She marched toward him, face clenched with, was it fury? And before he could even finish his sentence she raised her hand and cracked it across his face.
Pain, blinding and hot, scalded across him. Mark’s eyes watered at the impact, and he whipped his head back to face her. Shock rippled through him. He hadn’t been hit since he was a midshipman years ago. And—Ellen? Ellen had hit him?
“You bastard!” Ellen breathed. “You good for nothing bastard.”
This, also, apparently, would not go according to Mark’s plan. Eyes wide, he beheld the fury in front of him in shock. He hadn’t known what to expect, but anger hadn’t been on his list of possibilities. “I realize I’ve stayed away far too long.”I didn’t know Ellen Hanson could get this angry!
“You spawn of Satan.” She slapped him again, on the other cheek.
Mark gasped in pain and stepped back, hitting his heels on the chaise behind him. “Let’s talk about this like civilized people, Ellen. We’remarried.”
“Don’t remind me.” Ellen glared.
“This isn’t how I saw my day going, either.” Mark raised his hands to fend her off. “How about a cup of tea? That should calm you.”
Had his wife gotten a case of female hysteria while he’d been at sea? Why had no one told him she’d lost her wits? A tiny sliver of regret—or guilt?—wedged beside his surprise.She never wrote to complain. We decided this was a mutually beneficial arrangement.
In the distance, the front door opened and slammed.
Ellen took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, clenching her fists. “You will remove yourself from my presence this instant. You will walk out that door and never reenter my life. You will?—”
Heavy footsteps sounded in the foyer beyond them.
“What’s all this?” Mr. Hanson stuck his head in the door. “Mark? Is that you?”
Mark smiled weakly. “Ah, my dear father-in-law. So good to see you.”Please go away so I can finish arguing with my wife.
Mr. Hanson also looked older, his pale skin paler. His gray mutton chops bristled when he talked, and he patted his potbelly in contemplation. “I heard you might be in town. We’re having a small dinner party tonight. You will attend, of course?”
So he hadn’t beaten all the gossip that he’d returned to London. Stifling a groan of frustration, Mark dipped his head in acknowledgement. “I’d be delighted.”
“No.” Ellen, still in front of Mark, practically vibrated with rage. She whirled to face her father, and another curl escaped her bun and drifted down her back at the violent movement. “He will throw the numbers off. Mother planned the dinner carefully, and we’ll be uneven.”
Mark frowned, confused. Ellen Hanson, who'd spent her nineteenth birthday with pink frills and footmen carrying pink petit fours in Hyde Park with tiny lapdogs yapping about, was showing more personality in this moment than he’d ever seen. She looked...well, not beautiful. Nineteen-year-old Ellen from Hyde Park was beautiful. This older, more negative Ellen wasvibrant.
“Come now, poppet. He is your husband. I think we can let the numbers go askew for that.” Mr. Hanson entered the drawing room.
Mark stepped forward, and Ellen sidestepped so she wouldn’t be too close. He reached over, which made her lean back farther, and shook his father-in-law’s hand. “Reginald. It’s been too long.”
The man furrowed his brow as he gave a hard shake of his hand. “It has been overlong.”
I probably deserve that.Guilt twisted through him, something else he hadn’t planned to deal with today.