Dancing the Maypole by Cari Hislop Page B

tell
the world she’d been the victim of Louis’s lust if he didn’t make
her his wife. Who’d be believed; a sour Frenchman or a vixen made
of almond paste? I don’t know what my mother said to her, but Miss
Carteret and her brothers haven’t dared carry through their
threat.”
    “You expect me
to believe that?”
    “Believe what
you will. Take your all-knowing attitude and chain yourself to the
blonde slut if it pleases you.”
    “I don’t think
I’ve ever d-d-disliked a woman as much as I d-dislike you.”
    The cold words
were like fingers around her throat making it hard to speak. “From
a man who admires Miss Carteret, I take that as a compliment.”
    “I withdraw my
offer of marriage. Marry the Prince Regent or one of his fat
cousins; I don’t want you or your gold.”
    Internal rain
threatened to drown Isabel as the haunting scent of happiness made
her more miserable. Removing her hands from his coat she kept her
eyes lowered as she lovingly straightened his cravat before
covering her face and turning away. Angry footsteps marched away,
and the door was opened and closed with a slam. She’d never see his
boyish adoring smile again. He wouldn’t marry her, not even for her
eighty thousand pounds. The last thread of hope snapped sending her
heart plunging into her stomach. Her dearest dream was dead; killed
by her own hand.

Chapter 7
    Having slammed
the door, Peter stood there, his body still humming from her touch.
The welcome rejection of his offer had the effect of hemlock.
Staring blindly down the empty hall, he walked away on numb legs.
Halfway to the stairs the hair stood up on the back of his neck,
chilling his spine. “Peter Augustus you’re as heroic as a dead cat.
You make love to Isabel in your dreams and then declare in a wooden
voice that she should marry you because you’re both half French?
Why not wed because you’re both alive? Why not wed because you’re
both nincompoops?” Peter stopped abruptly as the transparent agent
stepped into his path. “Frankly, if your Katie had been a tall
debutante with eighty-thousand pounds you wouldn’t have given her
the time of day because she wouldn’t have been in awe of your title
or income. You tell yourself you want a wife, but really you want a
living doll; a mindless creature who smiles and agrees with
everything you say.”
    “I loved my
wife.” The words were flat.
    “Love? Katie
worshiped you because you were her lord and master. You married her
because you could play the hero without having to open your mouth.”
The agent leaned closer to Peter’s ear as if anyone could overhear.
“Your wife was a bore…wasn’t she?”
    Peter looked
away, “She was a good woman.”
    “Good? I
suppose, but she only learned to read and write to please you and
the only times she used the skills was to make lists of things to
do. I could never have married such a dullard.”
    Peter put his
hands over his ears, “My wife wasn’t a d-dullard.” Peter’s heart
contracted as he remembered endless lonely hours spent in his
library wishing he could discuss his thoughts and worries with his
wife, but when he tried she’d look at him with a blank expression
and change the subject to the nursery or promptly fall asleep.
“It’s wrong to speak ill of the dead. The past is past. It’s
gone!”
    “The present is
the past. If your wife hadn’t thought you an excruciating bore
she’d still be alive.”
    “Katie didn’t
find me a bore!”
    “No? After the
initial pleasures of being Lady Adderbury wore off Katie began to
admit to anyone who’d listen that she should have married the
innkeeper. Ask anyone in Adderbury.”
    “You’re a lying
fiend!” hissed Peter. “Katie loved me!”
    “Love? Katie
was in love with a fairytale. You were the handsome young Lord
who’d say the magic words and save her from a life of
servitude.”
    “How would you
know?”
    “I read her
file. Cinderella married the handsome Viscount only to end up
wishing